From the Desert to the Berry Patch

Each year we go to our favorite berry farm to pick our favorites -- gooseberries, boysenberries and raspberries.  EXCEPT last year, we weren't able to go.  With both of us suffering from severe sciatica and back pain, it seemed the better part of valor to stay home and anyway, we still had plenty of berries from the year before in our freezer.

Yesterday was a different story!

Breakfast was finished.

The convertible was packed for a picnic lunch and with berry baskets.

And we were ready to stain our hands with the delicious juices of those berries.

GO WEST, berry pickers!  GO WEST!

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And west we drove.  About 45 minutes from our home to a lovely place called West Union Gardens.  After we parked and had our containers weighed, we marched with determination into the lovely rows of berries -- row after row after row.

As we walked childish laughter could be heard.  Mamas calling them back closer, and we began to see the color of ripening berries.

Most important on our list of things to be picked were gooseberries, my husband's favorite pie making berry.  So, we found those and began picking the most luscious looking pink gooseberries. Pink, fat, juicy, big, delectable looking berries.  I kept asking how many do we want to pick, and he kept saying, "MORE!"

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Finally, we had enough gooseberries!

On to the boysenberries . . . .

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and what we found was extraordinary in its bounty.  Fat and juicy berries ready for picking.  Slipping into your hands and sometimes falling to the ground.  And ready for eating . . .  you can eat while you pick, you know.

Then it was time to take a break.  After all, we'd been at this for almost three hours.  We had our lunch under a large oak tree and once refreshed the last berries we wanted to pick called us back to the rows.

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The raspberries had just been opened, and there were so many!  It was as if a sea of raspberries stretched before us as far as the eye could see.


The berries were larger than any I'd ever seen!  And it seemed the berries wanted you to come close and pick them.  Again, they slipped right into your hand.  Often they too fell to the ground, and if you were lucky, you could snap that one up and put it into your bucket.

I heard a little one about three years old say to her mama, "Oh, look, mama.  Some of the berries falled down to the ground."  Her tiny voice sounded sad.

Dear reader, don't leave me yet.  I know you wonder where this is going.  And I have a wonderful message not just for you, but one that was meant for me yesterday.

For weeks, or so it seems, I've been traveling in the desert. I even mentioned to my husband that my writing had dried up, I felt parched and worn out, and I wondered why.  Of course, he had no answer for me.

Then, just by chance I reached out to my friend Nikki over at Simply Striving.  Nikki's post on Tuesday talked about discovering worship.  As I read it, I cried.  There was something there I needed and felt a hunger for.  Leaving a comment for Nikki, I told her where I was, or maybe wasn't.

Doing what good friends do best, Nikki reached back to me with a wonderful heartfelt prayer that you can read in her comments -- it may speak to your heart and needs as well.  I could feel something happening -- like an opening was being created.

Yesterday, while in the berry fields, breathing in His air, feeling His breeze, seeing and picking from His bounty, 

God nudged and said to me, "Daughter, where have you been?
Not nearly close enough lately."

"Father, I know.  Life's been so full and so busy with family, and you know, things."

He nudged again.  "How can life be full without Me?"

I hung my head, drew a breath,
and knew in an instant He was right, again.

It was I who had moved away.  Like the children running in the berry fields, I needed Him to call me back closer.  I needed to be nudged.

I wasn't taking time to acknowledge or draw close to Him.  Not the other way around.

I had created my own desert space.  

I had dehydrated my relationship with God.  

I am the one to take the step toward regaining my closeness with Him. 

[L]et us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full
assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us
from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water.Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess,
for he who promised is faithful.
Hebrews 10:22-23 (NIV)

Where are you today -- are you creating your own desert space, or are you clinging to that faith and hope we all profess and that He and He alone promises?

For the Beauty of the Earth

For The Beauty of The Earth
by Folliott S. Pierpoint, 1864

For the beauty of the earth,
For the glory of the skies;
For the love which from our birth,
Over and around us lies;
Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This, our hymn of grateful praise.

***

For the Beauty of the Earth is a hymn which resonates throughout my life, since childhood in fact.  I always thought of this, the first verse, as the most beautiful.  

But I also reasoned that this was a large and grand hymn offering to God something in return for all He had given us.  A child-like observation, yes, but one that I think continues to be true, at least for me.

Another caregiver trip to Washington state brought us along Interstate 84E on Saturday afternoon.  I am continually amazed when we drive through the Columbia River Gorge at the immensity of God's world and the artistry with which He created and brought our world into being.

The height of the walls and the layers of earth upon rock
upon silt and so on, on each side of the Gorge

Attribution

 View of the Gorge from Crown Point during
a luscious spring show -- the blue sky and greens below

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 To see the first sign of nearing home,
Mt. Hood, still cloaked in white

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 And to even realize blue skies are turning to gray skies
and rain as we near Portland -- the usual

Attribution

And continuing to give God my gratitude for the goodness of His gifts to me and mine:

496.  The beauty of the world around me as told in the verses to this hymn.

497.  The opportunity to live in an area so full of God's artistry.

498.  Gifts of watching friends help our brother who see him just as he always been despite the ravages of his disease.

499.  A committed sister-in-law who is taking extraordinary care of our brother.

500.  An unexpected visit with family from Boston over the weekend.

501.  Concerned children who think their parents are doing too much.

502.  The departure of a bug or virus that hit 24-36 hours ago and appears to be long gone.

Linking up with the community at A Holy Experience 

and with Laura at 

and with L.L. Barkat at

Heart Full of Thanks -- Counting One Thousand Gifts (346-356)

Two or three days ago a friend shared the video embedded here with me.  As the little girl began to talk, I was taken aback at her clear understanding of "exploring," and what it does for our minds.  Yet the video moves on, soul satisfying music playing in the background and the comfortable voice of a Jesuit priest narrating.  His thoughts and words focus on gratitude, and I found myself near tears as I listened.  I share it with you today as I continue to count my gifts.

Moving Art (TM) -- Gratitude

346.  Children with active minds.

347.  Smiles.

348.  Daffodils blooming!

349.  My husband's love and caring for his brother.

350.  Friends who understand how crazy life can be.

351.  Writing words of comfort, grace, and about God's goodness.

352.  Crocheted afghans to keep me warm on cold nights.

353.  Connecting with high school classmates.

354.  News of a baby to be born in our family in September.

355.  Sunlight glinting through the windows and dancing on the floors.

356.  The book, One Thousand Gifts, which reminded me to be aware of the gifts in each day.

~~~~~~~~~~

Linking up with Ann Voskamp at A Holy Experience.  Won't you drop in there for a visit?

A Heart Overflowing (Counting One Thousand Gifts, #205-216)

We travelled out of town over Thanksgiving, and upon returning home it seems I've not been able to get in the groove with my writing, my blogging, my housework, my to do list . . . . in other words on this post and many other things, I'm running late like the White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland who cried, "I'm late, I'm late for a very important date.  No time to say 'Hello.'  Goodbye, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late."  Lewis Carroll's words typify the season we're entering, and I need to slow down this season and take it slower for a number of reasons.

The main reason I want to slow down is because of what I witnessed over Thanksgiving.  We were with my husband's brother and his wife for four days.  In late spring, my husband's brother was diagnosed with Parkinson's, and anyone who knows anything about this disease knows that it differs greatly from patient to patient.  Our last visit with them was in August, and we were startled by the changes we saw when we arrived a week ago.  Watching and listening to this once vibrant man struggle to find the words he wants to say, who can no longer do the small things for the love of his life, who is so emotional over things that reach in and touch his heart . . . and more made me realize that slowing down, stopping to smell that rose, touching another's hand or giving a smile or sitting and talking with your husband or wife, and a long list of other things, take so little out of our days and put so much into someone else's.

My eyes have been focusing on the little things I'm blessed with since reading Ann Voskamp's great book, One Thousand Gifts.  And as I have drawn my focus closer to the little things, I find a greater satisfaction in my own soul for all that God has done for us.  Won't you join me over at Ann's site where I love joining in on her Monday Musings, even if I'm a little late. 


A Holy Experience



Continuing to count with the Multitudes on Monday.
205.  Improvements in my husband's pain level.
206.  Call from my younger brother.
207.  Anticipation of Thanksgiving travel.
208.  Thanksgiving with family this year.
209.  Raised awareness of everyday blessings.
210.  Gift of unexpected piano recital of Thanksgiving hymns.
211.  Seeing old friends.
212.  Safe travel to and from.
213.  Faithful friends.
214.  Refreshing rain.
215.  Opening my eyes to each new day.
216.  The joy of waiting during Advent.
217.  Successful surgery for my younger brother.



Thanksgiving Day Inspirations

Help Me
(A Thanksgiving Day Prayer)

O God, when I have food,
help me to remember the hungry;
When I have work,
help me to remember the jobless;
When I have a home,
help me to remember those who have no home at all;
When I am without pain,
help me to remember those who suffer,
And remembering,
help me to destroy my complacency;
bestir my compassion,
and be concerned enough to help;
By word and deed,
those who cry out for what we take for granted.
Amen.

-Samuel F. Pugh

Psalm 100

Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands.

Serve the LORD with gladness:
come before his presence with singing.

Know ye that the LORD he is God:
it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves;
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

Enter into his gates with thanksgiving,
and into his courts with praise:
be thankful unto him, and bless his name.

For the LORD is good;
his mercy is everlasting;
and his truth endureth to all generations.

Wishing each and everyone of you, a glorious day of giving thanks and sharing with family, friends and community.