By Ruth Potter

The Pumpkin Pie Story

“I guess we are too ordinary to experience any miracles,” was the conclusion of our dinner conversation one evening. I had just returned to the Philippines as a career missionary and was sharing an apartment with my sister Ami and another short-termer Rachel. “Yah, why is it that you read about missionaries that pray while sitting at the dinner table and then, boom! There is a knock at the door, and here is their dinner?” I said. “I don’t know about all that,” was Rachel’s response, “But what are our plans for Thanksgiving next week?” Thanksgiving? Oh, we forgot about that. Ami and I are missionary kids, but this would be the first time for Rachel to be in a foreign country during that family-centered holiday. It had the potential to be a homesick day for all of us, although we would be busy teaching school, as usual.

We all agreed that Thursday was simply too busy. But maybe we could celebrate on Wednesday in the half hour we all had free before prayer meeting. Rachel came up with the cooking plan. This plan accommodated our one-woman-sized kitchen and all three of our teaching schedules. It went something like this: At 2:00, Rachel would cook the beans and make the fried onions for green bean casserole. At 3:00, Ruth would peel and boil potatoes for mashing. At 4:00, Rachel put the homemade stuffing in the oven to toast. Ami made sure the precious ham was thinly sliced and warmed in a pan right before we ate and helped set the table. The kitchen was beastly hot, as usual, so we had two fans running—one on the narrow kitchen and one in front of the open front door, hopefully drawing in some cooler air from outside.

It was somewhere around 2:30 or so when it suddenly came to my mind that in all our planning, we had forgotten dessert! Everyone knows Thanksgiving cannot possibly be legitimate without your grandmother making lemon meringue pie! Or at least, that’s how it is in the Potter family. Or what about mom’s pumpkin roll with the cream cheese filling? Just the smell alone means it’s really Thanksgiving! But we had no ingredients in the house, no time, and no transportation. I wracked my brain. What about walking to the grocery story after prayer meeting later tonight and buying ice cream? At least that would be SOMETHING. Between running to class, teaching, resting, and cooking in shifts, I kept thinking, “How could we have overlooked dessert? This is simply not okay.” Finally, I prayed about the problem.

Cooking dinner went off like clockwork. Food was hot and on the table, places were set, and now the last of us was home from school. If we wanted any time to digest, we needed to sit down right now! “Time to eat, peoples!” I called and then sat down. That’s when a strange person just walked right in our open front door. What? It took me a moment to recognize Lydia, one of the missionary kids from our team. “What are you doing here?” I blurted out. That’s when I noticed the towel covered object she was carrying so carefully. By now, Rachel and Ami had come into the room, and we all stared as Lydia uncovered a freshly baked pumpkin pie.

Everyone talked at once, “How did you know we were celebrating tonight?” “How did you find a PUMPKIN in the Philippines?” “How did you know we forgot to plan dessert?” Lydia looked confused. “I don’t know. All I can say is, my mom and I were making some pie for the missionary kids this morning, and I told her, ‘I think I will make a pie for my big sisters…and here it is.’” And then she left.

Thereafter, we referred to the incident as, “the pumpkin pie story.” It was a very simple act for the Lord, but one we never forgot. It wasn’t just that the Lord cared about three homesick girls, but that we needed to realize He DOES hear the prayers of ordinary missionaries.