Candy corn, weird fall, and Jesus!

Okay. I need to confess something. I love candy corn. I know. Half of you just thought, YES! The other half of you are now questioning my judgment in all areas of life and theology.

Candy corn is one of those foods with no middle ground. You either love it or believe it is a tiny wax triangle masquerading as candy.

And really, who decided to make candy look like corn? A fake vegetable?

Was someone sitting around thinking, You know what would really appeal to children? Corn. But make it sugar.

I have no idea what's actually in candy corn, and I don't want to know. I'm fairly certain no nutritionist has ever said, “You know what your body needs? More candy corn.”

Which is why I have a rule: I only eat candy corn in October. This is how I maintain self-control. By eating an unreasonable amount of something during a very specific 31-day window.

And honestly, I need something to tell me it's October because apparently Southern California has opted out of fall this year. It has been OVER 100 DEGREES. In October.

People are putting pumpkins on their porches while trying not to get third-degree burns from their steering wheels.

I want sweaters. I want soup. I want to sit outside with a blanket and a cup of something warm. Instead, I'm standing under the air-conditioning vent eating candy corn and pretending.

Happy fall, everyone! 🍁🔥

Anyway, a friend recently brought me a little container of candy corn. My daughter and I promptly gobbled it up.

Every last glorious orange, yellow, and white triangle. Which left us with a problem. We had no candy corn. So naturally, I did the responsible thing.

I ordered a giant bag from Amazon.

A few days later, it arrived. My daughter poured us each a little bowl, we settled in to watch one of our favorite shows, and I popped one into my mouth expecting that familiar soft, sugary bite.

Except... EW. It was tough. Hard. Broken. This was not fresh October candy corn. This candy corn had history. I'm pretty sure somebody found it in the back of a warehouse left over from last Halloween. We got last year's candy corn.

And I was so disappointed.

Here I am desperately trying to manufacture a little fall...because THE WEATHER CERTAINLY ISN'T COOPERATING...and even my candy corn refuses to participate.

And it got me thinking about seasons.

Here's what I'm realizing:

Sometimes you're in a new season before it feels like a new season.

The calendar says fall. The temperature says absolutely not. And life can be like that too. We want seasons to have nice, clean edges. This ended. Now this begins. I was grieving. Now I'm healing. I was waiting. Now I have the answer. My kids were little. Now I'm totally fine with them growing up. That door closed. Now I'm excited about the new one.

Except most seasons don't work that way.

Sometimes the calendar has changed, but your heart hasn't caught up yet. Sometimes God is moving you forward while part of you still feels stuck in what was. Sometimes a new opportunity arrives and you don't feel ready. Sometimes you know God is doing something new, but it doesn't look anything like you thought it would.

And sometimes it's October and it's 103 degrees outside!

This Week’s Faith Habit

Mark the Season.

Here's your faith habit this week:

Put one object somewhere you'll see it every day that represents the season you're actually in.

Not necessarily the season you wish you were in. The one you're in. Maybe it's a leaf because something is changing. A seed because you're starting something new. A rock because this season requires perseverance. An empty jar because you're making room. A photo because this is a season you want to savor. A key because a new door has opened.

Put it on your desk, your nightstand, your kitchen counter, or somewhere you'll notice it. And every time you see it this week, let it remind you:

God is here too.

Not just in the seasons that make sense. Not just in the seasons we would have chosen. Not just when everything feels the way we think it should. Right here. Right now. In this season. Even if it feels a little weird. Even if the temperature is 103. Even if your candy corn is apparently from 2025. God is here.

Now, excuse me while I return my stale candy corn and turn the air conditioner down another three degrees. It's fall, dang it. 🍁😂