My sister is a Master Blueberry Picker.
Two summers ago, I sat in the sand with Maggie and her son, and we picked almost as many blueberries as we ate. The company was wonderful, the fellowship tender. We spoke of the heart and how it learns to love, how it breaks, how it heals, and how it learns to love all over again. She asked about a friend of mine, a man friend that I had been interested in for some time, and in my anxious attempt to thwart the discussion, I stood, stretched, and sought a bluer patch. Maggie stayed right there, her knees planted among the sandy-hilled roots of the ever-spreading blueberry plants. She spoke of her husband, how she had dared to ask her Heavenly Father for a few specific things in her future mate, and how radically He had answered her heart. I had made a list, too, I said. Had I asked God, she challenged in her gentle way. I turned, unsettled, and looked for another spot to pick. Maggie suggested we make a blueberry pie from scratch for dessert, even though neither of us had done so before.
All the while we sat in the warm sand, Maggie stayed in one spot. I chose a new spot every ten or fifteen minutes. While my nervous anxiety had me always looking for something new, something more comfortable, something better, Maggie’s patience touched every branch of every plant, gently searching for each berry as if it was the most important blueberry ever. She was content in that one space, always seeking and always finding another blueberry.
I thought of this again tonight as I plucked the beautiful blues from their stems. I took care to find each berry on a given plant before reaching for a new plant. And even then, I found that returning to a plant often yielded more berries.
Isn’t it that way with God? So often we hurry from one “God Moment” to the next, looking for something bigger and better and more amazingly provable. Yet, when we do this, we miss so many tiny morsels of God’s real presence and provision in our lives.
Sit quietly, friends. Allow your fingers to find each berry. And be content.
That is my aim.