I don’t know if the word “cherpumple” is in your repertoire of oft used words, but it wasn’t in mine until suddenly this past Sunday morning, I received a text from my oldest twentysomething son, stating he had a busy day planned. When asked what he was up to, he responded… “church, gym, making dessert to take to work.” Ok…I was a little intrigued; while my son does cook, he doesn’t often wade into the unknown world of dessert-making. So, as any curious mother would do, I texted back, “what are you making?” The next ding of my phone brought the unexpected answer… “a cherpumple,” (hmmm…pause..type, type, type) “What the heck is a cher…pum…ple?,” I asked in confusion. He then informed me he was baking three different pies, inside three different cakes, then promptly signed off telling me church was starting. First of all, how do you tell your mother you are making something I have just learned to pronounce, and then sign off without further explanation? Having to ask what a cherpumple was, made me feel like I just found out my computer mouse became an outdated piece of technology five years ago, and everyone knew about it but me. My quest for understanding, “The Making of a Cherpumple,” was on!
My eldest child has always been an adventurer. Growing up, he rode skateboards down gravity-defying walls, learned to surf with sharks, spent an entire summer living in the woods without electricity, and even rode an inflatable Shamu whale down the rapids (let’s not talk about how that ended up). Consequently, it was no surprise to me that if he was making a dessert it would not be ordinary. This cherpumple “thingy” intrigued me. I found it fun just to pronounce the word… cherpumple, cherpumple, cherpumple, I kept repeating to myself quietly. I looked cherpumples up on my smartphone. I read hilarious reviews about making cherpumples, the taste of cherpumples, and even the weight of cherpumples (did you know that a cherpumple can weigh 12 pounds?) This was going to be an event, the likes of Charles Schultz’s, Charlie Brown waiting for The Great Pumpkin. Over the next several hours I kept in touch via texting, to “watch” this creation unfold. The first snafu came just a few hours later, when my son realized, cherpumples take a while to create. Since he had other commitments to tend to, he only had time to use “storebought” pies, and the rest of his “baking” would have to wait until the next day, when he received assistance from a coworker, delivering icing and pegs. Now, I don’t know about you, but any dessert requiring pegs takes on a whole new dimension.
The following evening, he texted me in frantic mode, stating, “this cherpumple is getting out of hand.” Oh no, I was thinking, it’s like the movie, “The Blob,” and shortly the cherpumple will be taking over the city. Next, I received a text stating the icing had hardened so much he couldn’t spread it. I tried to advise as best I could, but helping with cherpumple disasters was not really in my realm of expertise. After removing his “dessert” from the oven, he found only part of it was baked. He then texted that he was excavating the cooked portions of the cherpumple, to salvage what he could. By this time tears of laughter were streaming down my face, and I didn’t want to put that into a text. In the end, my son finally did manage to create individual “slices” to take to work, and his generous coworkers were reported as having appreciated his heroic efforts to save his nuclear reactor meltdown-like dessert. So, this Thanksgiving, Lord, I am thankful for children who teach me new words, and make me laugh. I ask that you to give serious consideration to making a cherpumple for dessert…and then I ask you to reconsider! Have a great holiday!