Sunday, October 30, 2011

A Pumpkin Walk

    Do you remember the Scribe's  theory about pumpkins?  After working hard on carving a pumpkin, she said her heart and soul went into it.
    "I'm just worried," she said.  "My soul went into that thing.  When the pumpkin starts getting old and rotting, if it still looks happy, that means I'll have a good soul when I grow up.  If it rots and ends up looking scary or sad . . . well, that means I've always had a bad soul." 

    Here's that link:

    I think we all knew how this would end.  Many of you told me to put toothpicks in the pumpkins' mouths so they would look happy as they rotted.  Well, I tried and it did seem to work at first.  But yesterday, we went on an early morning walk.  Our husky, wanted to see everything and as we moved along, the Scribe kept looking at the pumpkins on everyone's porches.
    "Who would've thought!" she whispered as we passed several houses with terrible jack-o-lanterns.  "And I always thought old-lady, Hansen was so nice.  But look how her pumpkin is rotting!  I guess we should have known she was hiding something behind that nice smile."
    "Ummm . . . Scribe, maybe you shouldn't judge.  Life has a way of coming back to bite you."
    She just stuck her nose up in the air.  "My theory is right; I just know it."
    So, we continued on, until we came back to our house.  Instead of going through the garage (the same way we'd come out) we went up the front stairs, and the Scribe gasped at our collection of pumpkins.
    "Look at the Zombie Elf's pumpkin," the Scribe said, pointing to her three-year-old brother's handiwork.  "Who knew he'd have such a weird soul!  It looks like a sneaky cat . . . or something.  I don't think some cats' souls are good.  They're just into themselves.  Do you think the Zombie Elf really has a soul like a cat?" she asked her little sister, the Hippie.
    This is what the Zombie's pumpkin looks like:
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    "No," the Hippie said softly.  "You cannot tell what someone's soul looks like by how their pumpkin rots."
    "Well, how do you think you can tell?" the Scribe asked.
    "It's by how they paint their sun catchers."  She referred to something like this because she'd worked so hard on her sun catcher last week.
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    "That is not true," the Scribe said.  "If everyone's soul looks like their sun catchers, then everyone would have beautiful souls."
    "Exactly," the Hippie said and smiled as the Scribe rolled her eyes.
    The Scribe looked at the Hippie's pumpkin after that.  "Plus, you should like my theory.  You have a beautiful soul--that figures!"
    Here's the Hippie's pumpkin:

    So, the day went on, and all the Scribe talked about was how certain people had bad souls.  "And the Zombie Elf of all kids!" she said at one point.  "A soul like a cat?  That's a bad sign."
    Well, after a day of gossip and judgement, the Zombie Elf and I went outside and somehow, the Scribe's pumpkin fell down the front steps.  I'm still not sure if it was because the Zombie Elf "accidentally" knocked it or what, but the point is that it tumbled like Humpty Dumpty.  And when I picked it up gingerly and placed it back where it had been, the pumpkin went from smiling, to having a cracked frown.
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    The Scribe cried when she saw it, then she ran into the house and started working on a sun catcher.
    "What are you doing?" I asked.
    "Seeing . . .," she said through her sobs, "what my real soul looks like.  I decided the Hippie is right.  Life is much better when everyone is wonderful on the inside.  It isn't very fun being on the wrong side of things."
    "No it isn't," I said.
    She ended up apologizing to the Zombie Elf.  We had a tasty dinner and after I tucked everyone into bed, I heard the Scribe asking the Hippie.  "Do you think God will forgive me for judging everyone?"
    "I'm sure He will," the Hippie said.  "Plus, you weren't really judging them, you were just judging their rotten pumpkins."
    The Scribe sniffed.  "It was a silly theory . . . wasn't it?" the Scribe asked.
   "Yeah, maybe it was."
    For some reason they both started giggling really hard.  I gently shut the door and thought how great it would be if the sun catcher theory is true.  
    
     Isn't it a neat thought, imagining that our souls are as beautiful as sun catchers?  Now that's something to aspire to.