Pumpkins, Cookies, & Patience.

God's unhurried nature displayed in the posture of my children

In the hubbub of Halloween—children wandering around in mismatched outfits crammed over burly winter coats, fluffy hats, and winter boots—I found myself and my two kids at the local grocery store, of all places. Knowing that it was far too chilly for us modern folk (around 43 degrees Fahrenheit for reference) whose skin had become thin and sensitive to the cold since the advent of furnaces and localized heat, the promises of piping hot apple cider and some candy for the kids piqued my interest.

We wandered within, the familiar aromas of freshly made bread, coffee, printed newspaper, and sliced deli meat overwhelming our nostrils. The grocery store always smelled the same and remained timeless; the aisles stacked neatly like dominos, the items on each shelf in the same space they had resided when I was a child. I could practically close my eyes and navigate to any section I needed to get to, my mind’s sight tethered to years and years of returning weekly (or sometimes every other day) to gather more food or pick up an item left forgotten.

My children were dressed identically; both as skeletons in thin, black fabric that resembled pajamas instead of actual Halloween costumes. The printed “bones” of the outfits were glow-in-the-dark, complete with lighthearted accessories weaving between the anatomical “ribs” section such as a smiling bat, a smirking cat, and a googly set of eyeballs. There was nothing menacing or scary about it and definitely no masks included. Each shopper who happened to walk on by during their grocery peruse would leave a trail of awws and aren’t they sooo cute in our wake, my kids reciprocating the gesture with a cheesy smile and a wave. As a self-proclaimed introvert, I admired their courage and willingness to standout from the rest as I led them on in my usual throw-sweater and faded blue jeans. No dressing up for me, I was in it for the candy.

In the store’s cozy western corner, kiddy-cornered near the marketplace restaurant (yes, this grocery store had its own charming eatery), a long wooden table lay adorned with small orange pumpkins, sugar cookies (also shaped like pumpkins) next to a pad of bright xanthous frosting.

Coloring sheets sprawled across the table, their edges crinkled with excitement, while crayons and washable markers lay scattered at the far end, remnants of creative chaos. Half-finished masterpieces peeked out, abandoned by parents who, perhaps overwhelmed by sugar-high giggles, opted to leave them behind instead of carting them home with their exuberant little artists.

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I pulled up two small chairs and sat my one-year-old son on my lap while my daughter—in a haze of creative jubilee—tore into a box of markers and began coloring a large cartoon image of a bat. My son opted straight for the cookie, far too interested in the allure of sugar and food than any creative pursuit. And so we sat. And sat. And sat. People came and went while children in their festive costumes meandered to the table. As we sat, we witnessed a parade of characters—Iron Man, Scooby-Doo, to Mario, Princess Elsa, and even inflatable dinosaurs taking their places across from us. Meanwhile, my daughter, far too blissfully preoccupied to notice most of the other kids, poured into her work like she were a young Michaelangelo, meticulously crafting her magnum opus while the tip of her tongue peeked from the corner of her mouth.

After the cartoon bat, she moved on to coloring a pumpkin, tracing each indent on the pumpkin’s surface in deep purple marker before adding a smiley face, for the full effect. Every time she was almost finished with whatever she was working on, she would excitedly look up, hold out her creation, and exclaim, “See daddy, see?! Look what I made!” Then, before I could acknowledge or offer an encouraging word, back she’d go to add the final touches.

Lastly, after what seemed like an eternity, she was ready to begin the final station: cookie decorating. I set one before her just as my son lunged forward, eager to take a bite. I guided her on how to use the plastic knife to spread the frosting evenly over the surface, urging her to hurry. Please hurry. There are things to see. Places to go. A day to be had, away from this table that has distracted us far too long.

Every time her little arms reached for more frosting, I grew more and more impatient.

It festered within me, a creature taking control from the inside out.

Finally, it got out.

“Parker, come ON! You have been working on the same cookie for over fifteen minutes! You need to wrap it up quick so you can eat it and we can go. Daddy has work to do.” My sudden exclaim made her small body jump, the cookie crashing to the ground, shattering to pieces.

I’ll never forget the look she gave me; a solemn stare of deep hurt swept over her once-focused face, her brow furrowing as she began to cry. She reached for the cookie that lay facedown upon the floor, frosting splattered alongside it resembling something of a crime scene.

In that moment, I knew I had failed her.

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I hesitantly grabbed a new cookie, placed it in front of her and while doing so, looked her in the eyes to apologize. “Sweety, that was not nice of me. I should not have done that and treated you that way. There is no need to rush, so take all of the time you need, your brother and I are happy to wait until you are finished. I’m sorry, will you forgive me?” She reluctantly nodded her head, wiping the tears off on her sleeve as she tried to regain focus and start again.

The guilt lasted far beyond that moment, however. And even as I write this, a sharp pang of regret flips in my gut, making me nauseous.

There are times as a parent when you mess up and beg the Lord above that your child won’t hold a grudge or be reminded of your failure every time they peer into your eyes. That they’d instead look to the one above who is perfect and merciful and gentle, seeing that we parents need grace and wisdom far more than we’d like to admit.

Parker took her time on the second cookie all while my son and I sat with her enjoying a little warm cider. Besides her splotchy cheeks, no one would have ever noticed that anything had happened at all; she rebounded quickly, grace abounding. After reveling for a moment at her crafted treat, she devoured it, making sure to save a section for her brother, still seated upon my lap.

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Did you know that God is not hurried?

He delights in each moment, finds harmony in the steady passage of time.

He does not rush.

He does not feel pressured.

Nothing escapes His gaze.

My children are a lot like that. Constantly busy, yes, but willing to fully embrace whatever is before them, undeterred by schedules, commitments, or others. They fill the air with laughter and seek the subtleties in their surroundings for joy.

God revealed to me that day the selfish pride I place in control, in hurry.

How quickly I jump from one activity to the next, unwilling to slow down and see the leaves changing colors on the trees, or notice the gift of my daughter frosting a cookie. I overlook, I delegate, I escape all too fast.

And yet God beckons to me through my children to set aside it all to simply dwell with the Father.

And trust God’s timing instead of my own.

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day. Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; he lifts his voice, the earth melts. The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.
Come and see what the Lord has done, the desolations he has brought on the earth. He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth. He breaks the bow and shatters the spear; he burns the shields[d] with fire.
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”
The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.¹

-Psalm 46 (NIV)

1. “Psalm 46 NIV - Bible Gateway.” Www.biblegateway.com, www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm%2046&version=NIV.