The Parable of The Pie
Remember the time the pie hit the wall?
As we enter the full swing of the holiday season, it's time once again to share The Parable of the Pie.
The story begins after my kiddo and I made our cross-country move in 2015. The novelty of change had worn off and we were in the midst of a challenging phase of adjusting to everything being new and different. In an effort to soothe our tender hearts, I decided to spend Thanksgiving in Sedona, AZ to recharge and play.
My plan was to enjoy a peaceful holiday, still maintaining some of our traditions, the most important being my son's beloved Pumpkin Chocolate Pie. I've been making some variation of it for years and although he was still a wee thing, it was already his favorite. Even now, it doesn't matter where or how we celebrate, so long as the pie is part of it.
Somehow, while transporting the completed pie the short distance from the tiny kitchen to the table, it left my grasp and flew, in slow motion—into the wall. This was no ordinary culinary mishap. You might wonder, as I do, how it's even possible to drop a pie on the WALL. Years later, I still have no clue.
My sweet boy witnessed the whole incident and instantly became distraught. My mama heart, that was just barely keeping it together, hit the wall too. I don't recall ever simultaneously laughing and crying so hard in my life.
Yes, we still ate the smashed pie—with a heaping dollop of cinnamon whipped cream.
Look at that little 5 year old buddy! How many times in your life (or recently) have you felt that way inside as you watch what you hold dear hit the wall?
You've likely had moments witnessing plans, hopes, traditions hit the wall. It's heart-breaking. You don't know if you want to cry. Laugh. Pretend it's not happening. Numb out in response.
I'm so grateful for the wisdom of my kiddo who remembers this moment years later, not as a failure on my part, but as a moment when life hit the wall and we made the most of it anyway.
He reminds me that when something hits the wall during the holiday season, after the shock and disappointment, there's always something to be saved.
What was intended to be a successful rendition of our pie tradition that year, has instead become a tradition of telling this story, laughing, and preparing to once again, give it our best and hope the pie reaches the Thanksgiving table intact.
Many of us have spent time scraping pie off the wall or floor in one way or another. My prayer is that we'll each continue to discover creative ways to salvage and transform what remains.
May we always remember to allow space for our holiday traditions to take on a life of their own to guide us more deeply into our resilience, strength, and joy.
I'll be taking deep breaths right along with you this holiday season, and eating plenty of pie, regardless of where it lands.
