For the beauty of the…Blueberries!

So there I was…

Let me back up.

Several evenings ago, I saw Ms. Jan post a picture of some blueberries on f@cebook, and I thought I’d better check on my own berries before strangers wander onto the property and check on them for me. There were a few berries–nothing to write home about yet, but the bushes were heavy with berry-forming blossoms. And my heart skipped a beat, because I knew–this would be another good crop, if I could keep up with it! I picked what was ripe, which wasn’t much (only enough to keep out on the kitchen table for random sampling). There was one patch of berries that was scarce. While the bushes were laden with blossoms and white berries, there were maybe a dozen berries that had ripened. I picked those and thought, “It will be at least a week before I can pick here again.”

On Friday evening, I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself because–let’s be honest–how lame is it to be home alone on a Friday evening, especially during Hiawatha Music Festival? And I thought–Heck with Hiawatha. Heck with people. Heck with stupid societal standards that tell a 30-something that she should go out on a Friday night or something is wrong with her (even though she already feels something is wrong with her because she’s the only person she knows who isn’t coupled off and/or having babies and/or changing the world). Heck with it all, I thought, I’m single, I’m in my 30s, it’s Friday night, I’m exhausted, and I need to check on the blueberries.

So I trekked up the hill and startled at the magnificent sight of those blueberries seas. There were so many. How had they turned so quickly? (Funny that a Yooper girl would ask such a question, eh?) I made my way to the patch I’d picked two days prior and fell to my knees. For several moments, I just sat there, amazed at the life and growth before me.

So there I was (stick with me, folks; I’m getting there), picking and singing “For the Beauty of the Earth,” and allowing my heart to praise God for His amazing handiwork. And suddenly I heard myself quoting a familiar phrase with a one-word exception: Consider the blueberries of the field.

How hard we work to provide for ourselves, to be self-sufficient, to be financially stable! How we toil and trouble ourselves with the idea of our needs and provision! And somehow, from a hill of sand, the Creator can bring forth life–without any help from me. What a beautiful, humbling realization.

And we all know it in our heads. But I’m praying this week that God would help me to remember it in my heart, where I’ve been worried about money and how I’m ever going to save the funds for Burkina Faso (or anything else in my life). Just like a field of blueberries, God can cause fruit to grow in the midst of life’s sand and rocks and yes–even weeds (not that there are any weeds in my yard…*snort*).

May God speak gently to our hearts the words of hope and provision. May we be overcome with the knowledge that He is not merely our provider, but rather–our Provision. May we consider the fields, pick till our fingers are blue, and praise God for causing growth where we expected none.

Lord of all, to Thee, we raise
this, our hymn of grateful praise.
Amen.

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