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The Great Pumpkin

  • Kimberly Blakes
  • Apr 19
  • 4 min read

When I was a kid, I had a bully. Most of us had the same bully, unfortunately. It was a girl called ‘Metris—short for Demetrius. She was in a grade higher than me and was bigger than all of us because she developed early. She was also unwashed most of the time.

On a school field trip in the 3rd grade, we went to a pumpkin patch. I had a grand plan for the pumpkin that I would pick. In my mind, I saw how I would carve it and proudly display it on our dresser. I had half of a broken red taper candle slated for the trash that I was saving for this pumpkin, too.

I had so few things that were actually mine that this pumpkin dominated my thoughts. It was something to look forward to.

After arriving at the patch, I took my time to find the perfect pumpkin. I can still remember walking through the patch under an overcast sky. My hair was in two ponytails, and I was wearing a turquoise coat with red buttons and red trim.

It wasn’t long before I found my pumpkin. My perfect pumpkin needed to have a thick stem and a flat bottom to sit level. Unlike the other kids, I wasn’t looking for a large one—I wanted a small one… just for me. After finding it, I cleaned it off with the hose at the patch, then carried it around like it was my baby.

I went to the bus early and placed my pumpkin in my seat for safekeeping. We always had to sit in the same seat going and coming, so I knew it would be safe.

But when I got back to my seat after the trip had ended, my pumpkin was gone.

In its place was a large, lopsided, muddy pumpkin with no stem. I looked around frantically, but I couldn’t find mine. Then I saw ‘Metris staring at me from two rows back with a crooked smile.

So I asked her, “Did you take my pumpkin?”

She laughed, turned her head, and kept eating her sunflower seeds. I didn’t have time to examine each pumpkin on the bus—we had to leave, and I had to be seated and buckled in. The whole ride back, my head was spinning. I was on the verge of screaming or tears. But I knew I couldn’t do either—I’d been taught early on that my tears meant nothing to anyone.

I knew ‘Metris had my pumpkin, but I couldn’t prove it.

We got back to school and started walking home. I noticed ‘Metris holding my pumpkin under her jacket. I knew in a fight I wouldn’t win—but I couldn’t just let it go. She was bigger, meaner, and known for fighting boys. Still, I tried.

I caught up with her and asked if I could see the pumpkin—hold it—because I believed it was mine. She didn’t stop, didn’t respond. Soon, she was in her building, going up the stairs, and that was that.

I was left with the ugly, lopsided, muddy pumpkin.

I hated her all the more from that moment forward. That moment left a mark on me. I can still remember it like it was yesterday.

The other night, I was doing some self-reflection. At this point in my journey, I needed to forgive—any and everyone.

When you harbor unforgiveness, you’re not hurting them. You hurt you.

It’s like picking up a hot coal to throw at your enemy and expecting to not be burned.

So I asked the Lord, “Who should I forgive?”

I expected Him to bring up something recent—maybe my father, maybe an ex. But no. I was instantly transported back to that bus. Back to the moment I realized my beautiful, blemish-free pumpkin had been stolen.

I felt the hackles rise on the back of my neck. I felt helpless all over again.

No matter how I reasoned with the bully, I couldn’t get my pumpkin back.

And I believe that’s when I accepted the lie that I had no power. That nothing was fair. That I was helpless.

I had to forgive her—for stealing that pumpkin and for every other cruel thing.

All this time, I held that moment in my heart. And ‘Metris? She’s been dead for 25 years now.

This was all still alive in me.

I didn’t even know it was holding me back.

But here’s the truth:

I’m no longer in the third grade.

I can buy any pumpkin I want.

The great pumpkin block has been removed.

I thank the Lord for showing me what was hidden and helping me break free from the prison of unforgiveness.

So now I ask you…

What in your life has been a block?

What memory is still holding weight?

Go back to that place and forgive.

Go back and release every last one of them.

What thought keeps rising and clinging to the edges of your mind?

What is the thing?

God is bringing it up because it caused a shift in your soul.

He wants you to forgive.

You must forgive any and everything.

And if you can’t in your own strength?

Ask God to show you how in His.

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