One Little Cane, Passed On

This morning, a neighbor comes by with a shovel to uproot several of my raspberry canes to plant in his own garden.  I want to offer a bit of what was originally given to me. 

Two years ago, I was that neighbor taking raspberry canes from another garden down the street.  That neighbor was so generous, and I planted five of her canes that multiplied from a single plant. 

Two years from now, I wonder who will take canes from the neighbor who came today.  The five he takes from me will multiply and cover his whole backyard. 

All throughout the neighborhood, folks harvest raspberries.  I realize the beauty of how interconnected this harvest has become.  All this produce came from just one little plant that multiplied and spread. 

I think about my own life’s work.  I want my words and actions to nourish a family, a neighborhood, a city, a nation, a world.  I offer bits of what was originally given to me–loving, encouraging, teaching–and pray the roots go deep and pass between generations. One little cane, over time, can cover a whole community. 

Let it be beautiful fruit.  I think about the bitter fruit of a negative, discouraging, damaging presence passed on between generations.  Equally prolific, I fear this fruit also stays within a community. 

May our raspberry canes be a blessing and not a curse. 

Journal:  What bits can I offer to pass on? 

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  1. A wise woman who blogs with cartoons about her barnyard animals reminded me that all rain is, is multiple one drops. Each one can share “fruit,” can water the garden of life and community – one drop and cane at a time. You are doing good.