Manhood Through A Pickle Jar

Today in the midst of all my frustration with my kiddos (I know they probably can’t wait for me to go to the hospital so they can get a break from their grouchy, hormonal, nesting mama!), I got a good laugh. 

Scott and I had a meeting with one of the guys from church in order to help plan some events for the small groups in our church.  Scott was on his way home and I was trying to get the kids fed before we left so they could get ready for bed while we were gone. 

So I grabbed something quick, BBQ Pulled Pork from Costco, and heated it up (we have not been doing good with the healthy eating the last week or two!).  I slapped that meat on some buns, and tossed the plates on the table.  I opened the fridge and thought, Dill Pickles would go great with these!  And of course, I find two large jars of pickles in the fridge.  (Because obviously Dwight hadn’t discovered the last one sitting in one of the jars!)

So I stood at the counter and twisted the lid, only to have my hands slip around, accomplishing nothing.  I tried loosening up the lid with a knife.  No such luck.  Exasperated, I put the jar on the counter as I let out a big frustrating sigh.

“Do you want me to open that?”  Patrick asked.

I looked at him in disbelief.  My 11 year old son, with his hands, smaller than mine, thinks HE can open the pickle jar?  “You really think YOU can open this when I can’t?”  I asked in disbelief.  Seriously!  I’m way stronger than him!

“Yes,” He answered.

Well, isn’t he a being cocky tonight?  “No, I’ll do it!”  I insisted.  I tried again without any success. 

“Fine.”  I said as I slid the jar across the table.  “Go ahead and try, but you aren’t going to be able to do it.” 

And I turned my back to grab the other jar of pickles.  Naturally, by the time I turned my back on him, he says, “I got it.”  As if it were really no big deal at all.  Sure enough, he sat there triumphantly holding the lid. 

I admit it, that was a nice hit to my pride.  And it was only encouragement for him to be the smarty pants I do not want him to be!  So I tried the other pickle jar.  Dang it!  The lid was not going to budge.  Again, my hands just slid around the lid.

“Alright, Smarty Pants, Why don’t you just go ahead and open this one too?”  I challenged.  But truly, I wanted to see him fail, just so I could claim the first pickle jar was all a fluke - I’d loosened the lid or he just got lucky.  Two in a row meant he could open pickle jars, but if he failed this time, then I would have an explanation for his success the first time around…

I stood there with hand on hip, waiting for him to struggle to get the pickle jar open…waiting for him to fail.  Only he twisted it off like it was nothing. 

The worst part of it all was Scott was on the phone with me, listening to the entire conversation.  And he got to laugh.  At me.  And it really was funny, so I had to laugh too.

My 11 year old boy with hands smaller than mine got the pickle jars open.  I struggled and struggled and couldn’t get it to budge.  And truly, I could hold on to my pride and say that I loosened up both jars (2 fluke deals in a row!), but I’m thinking it’s just not the case. 

No, God was being funny, and at the same time, teaching us both some life lessons.  (And I have to give Scott credit for making me think about it this way!)

1.  For Patrick:  Don’t ever not try to do something you think you can do just because someone says you can’t! 

2.  Don’t be too proud to ask for help, and don’t underestimate a person’s ability to help just by their size!

That, and maybe God wants me to work on another weakness of mine.  I was just waiting for him to fail at opening the jar just for the sheer pleasure of saying, “See?  I told you so!”  It was more important for me to be right than to see him succeed, yet he succeeded anyway.  That’s when my eyes were opened to how selfish I was being.  I’d rather be right than see my son succeed at this.  How wrong of me! 

Had I been too proud to let Patrick help, the kids would have gone without the pickles.  They never would have really known what they were missing (except for Patrick), but would you believe they ate all the other pickles in the other jar too?  (There were probably about 7 or 8 in there).   They really enjoyed those pickles, and I’m still laughing about the pickle I put myself in criticizing my son for offering to help.

“I’m sorry, Patrick.”  I said.  “I shouldn’t have gotten onto you like that.”

“That’s okay, Mom.  I forgive you!” 

Even that stung a little.  Because as my son was forgiving me for being crazy about the pickle jar, he was also beaming with pride.  Not just because he “showed me, ” (although I’m sure he loved that!), but he was also able to do something I wasn’t able to do.  It’s the classic story of the woman in the kitchen needing help from her man’s big hands to open the pickle jar.  Only my man was still on his way home from work, and I had to rely on my little boy’s hands to open the jars.  

And as I brushed off my pride tonight, I have to admit, I couldn’t be more proud of him.  Next time, I won’t be so fast to judge or criticize!  Yup, my little boy is stepping into manhood, one pickle jar at a time!