Berry Picking Parables
In one of my favorite chapbooks, At the Pool We’ve All Got Bodies, Lance Odegard writes about how poets often walk around turning everything into imagery or metaphors, even the smell of gas station bathrooms. He then goes on to write a brilliant poem about—gas station bathrooms.
I felt like that this morning picking blueberries with my boys and knowing I wanted to write a new reflection for this space. I’m aware we can symbolize something to death and miss the actual moment, but I also found my self ruminating on how blueberry picking runs parallel to my thoughts about faith formation this summer, especially with my kids.
Berry picking is best in the morning or evening, often not in the heat of the day. My kids are able to engage best with scriptures, prayers and songs as we begin and end our days together, when attitudes are better and tummies are full and everyone isn’t sweaty and grumpy. Taking into account the creatureliness of myself and my family means we can enjoy God most when we’re strategic about times of connection lining up with our bodily needs and natural rhythms.
Sometimes the bigger fruit isn’t necessarily the sweetest. Or most complex.
Growing up as a kid in Michigan where blueberries swell huge in sandy soils, my sister and I would often go for the fattest fruit, almost the size of a quarter. I still like to find big berries, but I’ve noticed that these bigger handfuls can sometimes be bland while smaller selections balance sweet and tart in a different intensity. When it comes to family faith formation, I often want big lessons and huge behavior changes. If I’m not careful, I can prioritize manufactured experiences and spiritual “events,” forgetting that transformation is often best in intentional small moments and less-extravagant exchanges.
Keeping what matters most in mind changes how you work.
My children would have made terrible pioneers. They last about five minutes in the sun before whining and beg to go home and today loudly told the couple across from us that it was no fair they got to pick on the shady side. They are not the efficient pickers I’d need to collect enough fruit to last all winter. But, that wasn’t what mattered most about the experience. If I wanted bounty, I could have gone by myself. I was aiming for delight and yes, some determination, and learning how to harvest instead of just consume. The same is true for spiritual growth. If I really wanted to have a deep spiritual experience on a Sunday morning, I’d leave my kids at home. I’d go off somewhere by myself and go home full of inspiration and not hoarse from whispering at kids wriggling under rows of hymnals. But, what we as a family are aiming for is delight in God (and God’s family’s) presence; some determination to sing and pray and listen; learning how to harvest instead of just consume. The feeling we nurture as a family is often as important in the future of our children’s faith journey as the fruit we want to see.
Hurry hurts now and later.
When I’ve gotten frustrated by the slow speed of filling up a bucket, I’ll find myself rushing, grabbing for a handful of blue and accidentally getting green and pink and a few sticks for good measure. I gain nothing by grasping, and not only that, I rob the opportunity for development in a few days or weeks. When I try to force my kids to learn a particular aspect of God’s character or kingdom-life or when I expect them to “deny themselves” before they even know themselves, we all end up frustrated and less likely to keep trying to follow the Way down the road .
Opportunities aren’t scarce in God’s bountiful fields.
Did we pick every single berry on the bushes we were assigned by the farmer? Of course not. Did I panic each time a berry dropped to the ground or was scooped up by a bird? No, because the sheer volume of the crop means there’s room for less and loss. I don’t need to wring my hands when we don’t find a good devotional rhythm as a family or when my kids don’t know a Bible character I was sure they should have learned by now. I don’t have to panic when I realize a discipleship opportunity went by the wayside. Gratuitous. More than enough. Full of chances now and for an entire season. There are plenty of chances to pass on our faith. Praise God.
Slow and scratchy is better than fast and mass produced.
In college, one of my friends had a blueberry farm in her family, and another friend who wanted to become a pastor worked the farm with the migrant workers one summer, so he could learn about how they experienced the fields. The bigger and faster the harvest, the more people were hurt along the way. Is it uncomfortable to do the work yourself of trying new ways of following Jesus as a family? Absolutely. Is it easier to choose control and culture over nuanced belief and identity in our children? Yep. However, often slick programming and institutions that collect followers often harm along the way. Better less shiny and more hands-on when it comes to growing in grace and truth, even if it takes more time and seems less profitable. Similarly, our kids may develop in their faith journeys at different times and rates and degrees. Expecting all fruit of the spirit to emerge in their lives at the same time will only bring waste and bitterness.
At the same time, if you can’t pick your own, store-bought is just fine.
Ina Garten made the phrase “if you can’t make your own, store-bought is just fine” popular when she talked about homemade chicken stock but I think it can apply as well to spiritual practices. There have been seasons in my life when it would have been impossible to pick berries, either because of illness or family life-stage, mobility, or access. Sometimes it was just too dang hot and if I made myself pick my own, we’d have no fruit that year. Prayer, worship, family rhythms, faith community practices—these all go through seasons as well. In times of grief, we can borrow the words of a written liturgy. When our kids are little, we can read Soil and Seed “Little Liturgies” instead of trying to come up with activities at the kitchen table on the fly. Taking away striving and shame give space to try another time while still enjoying the fruit in the meantime.
Don’t forget to eat the fruit.
Had I wanted to at least fill a bucket today? Yes, of course! Will the fact that we only picked two point five pounds stop our family from enjoying blueberries with milk and sugar on top or muffins and crisp? Of course not! This summer, I want my children to delight in God’s world and God’s people. I want them to laugh at the top of their lungs on a beach and get quiet in the dappled shade of the woods. I want them to sing songs about Jesus at camp and help pick up trash in our neighborhood and learn how to reconcile after a conflict because of Jesus. While I want to see changes in their lives and mine, I want my children and I to not forget that joy is how we endure and shalom is the goal and that each time we choose forgiveness, patience, compassion, or self-control, we’re bringing God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. That is worth celebrating whether by a dozen or by heaping handfuls.
