BLUE GOLD

It started—honestly--with an old-fashioned folding wooden clothes drying rack. My husband, who likes to fix/resell, found it somewhere, cleaned it up, and had me put it in the online want ads. There it sat for weeks until we got a call from folks about four hours' drive away. Could we hold it for their anticipated trip to our town? Sure.

Okay, here's the backstory that involves blueberries. Some of the sweetest memories of my childhood are the blueberries that came off about six bushes in our home's back yard. Our valley was infamous for hungry robins, so after a few years of unwillingly feeding the wildlife, my dad enclosed the blueberry patch in a “cage” he built of chicken wire. Oh how the flying critters fussed. But we got our blueberries, and, frozen, they treated us all year.

Fast-forward several decades to marriage, and knowing my love of blueberries, my husband planted several bushes in our back yard. Instead of the chicken wire cage, I just draped them with netting to ward of bird pecks when the berries started to form. Typically I got two big mixing bowlfuls a year off them. Popped in the freezer, they provided enough toppings for my breakfast cereal for the year. At other times, my husband knew that just buying a carton of fresh blueberries at the store meant more to me than a mink coat or high-brow perfume (neither of which I have owned or desired).

This year, something happened. I barely got a handful of berries. Major crop failure.

Cherry season came and my husband was invited to glean at an orchard. Oh, he went at it. He gave away bags and bags to friends, most of them older folks who appreciated the sweat equity behind such a gift. But his list was shorter than the supply, and we had a plastic dishwashing tub in the refrigerator left.

Enter the customers for the wooden clothes drying rack. Two women came as promised, fresh off hours of either purchasing or gleaning some of the produce of our valley. Right away, by their dress and hair style, I identified them as folks of the religious persuasion that advocated the “simple life.” One bought the clothes rack without quibbling on the price and then asked, “Do you like blueberries?”

She may have well asked, “Do you like fresh air? Giggling babies? Air-dried laundry? Words of appreciation? The hope of eternal life?” We didn't go through that list but she told me to get a container and she'd share some they had picked. I grabbed a small mixing bowl, thinking that was greedy. My husband hollered from the garage, “Give them that tub of cherries in our refrigerator.” Oh, her eyes lit up at the mention of cherries, whose harvest had just ended. I wanted to keep my plastic dishwashing tub, so found a cardboard box they could take and started dumping the cherries. As soon as I emptied my plastic tub, she brought out her huge box of blueberries and--to my astonishment--dumped them into the same tub! It was a summer's harvest for me—and more.

And then they left for their long trip home to presumably can and freeze their bounty for the year. I rinsed and bagged their berry gift, and tucked the blue bounty into our freezer. And I--blessed unexpectedly--cried.

“Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.” (Psalm 37:3)

“Celebrate [God's] abundant goodness.” (Psalm 145:7)

And finally, as we obey God in our finances and generosity, He says, “I will pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it.” (Malachi 3:12)

Blue gold. What a blessing.

Oh, those robber robins!

 

Robins were not my dad’s favorite birds, at least when they tried to harvest the crop off his small blueberry patch. He had planted about six bushes by his work shed, and as they matured, the plump, tasty berries became a banquet hall for the local bird population. Finally, he caged the entire patch with chicken wire, an enclosure that was six feet tall with a door so we could still go in and pick them. Sometimes, however, a little gap at the bottom of the enclosure was all it took for an enterprising robin to sneak in and feast away.

Despite the haul of bandit birds, we picked enough to freeze for our enjoyment through the year. My memories of fresh-picked blueberries resulted in planting a few bushes at the back of our garage. And guess what.  The robins found them. Although these berries lacked the size and flavor of those from my childhood,  the bushes still brought the enjoyment of summer’s “blue gold."

I couldn’t build a wire cage for them, so draped them instead with bird-deterring netting. The robins still found a way in, but I settled for a less-than-perfect system.

My “berry guard” system got me thinking about spiritual guards.  Psalm 91 speaks of God guarding us when surrounded by evil. But the scripture I cherish most about “guarding” is from Philippians, written by a weary apostle who was “guarded” by hardened Roman soldiers as he served out an indefinite sentence for preaching Christ.

“Rejoice!” Paul wrote, likely as chains clanged from his wrists. “Be gentle!  Pray about everything! Be thankful! Tell God your needs!”  And then:

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:7)

One of the misconceptions about being a Christian that I had to work through in my early faith walk was that all would be hunky-dory once I crossed the line to say “Jesus is my Savior.”  Some problems will fade as our values and priorities change to good. But we live in a fallen world, and problems will come. Instead of robins after blueberries, those pesky crows and vultures of “fallen-ness” will attack when we least expect.

What are we to do? Rejoice! Be gentle! Pray! Be thankful! Tell God your needs! So doing will “guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” And the sweetness of knowing the Savior—far sweeter than the plumpest blueberry, for sure!—will help feed a Christ-hungry world.