Not Picking. Catching.

The raspberries grow so plump and heavy on the stalks that picking them becomes more like catching them. Coming near the harvest, I lift the leaves and let the berries fall into my bowl.

Sometimes, the fruit God ordains for our lives comes so easy, like we’re resting under a bough that delivers abundance into our hands. Other times, we wade through thorns and predators to gather what God appoints. We spend time preparing the soil, sowing seeds, nurturing the plants, and then harvesting. It’s labor. It’s hard but so rewarding. And then, some years, we work little but harvest much, and it’s a different feeling of reward.

I’m thankful for all kinds of work and all kinds of rest. I’m thankful for every kind of harvest.


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