The Berry Patch

Strong winds blew down a swath of trees -- leaving jagged trunks jutting from the earth. Driving by a few days later, we shook our heads and sadly recalled how beautiful the land used to be.

I grumbled against the wind.

Good hearted loggers tried to clean it up a bit -- by clearing some of the windfall. Their honest efforrts, however, seemed more an invasion of nature than a healing. Their cuttings left deep scars, cold and stark.

I drove by, shook my heard, and grumbled against the loggers.

The burning followed. How the fire started is still a puzzle -- perhaps a lightening strike, an engine spark, or a careless cigarette. Regardless of the start, it took the firefighing volunteers a full effort for the finish. Acres of charred stubble marred the landscape.

I grumbled against the fire.

But passing time has a way of healing scarred soil and human hearts. From blackened ground, new life emerges.

Twelve seasons later, quite by accident, we happened upon the barren place and were amazed to find bushes loaded with raspberries -- and a new patch of wild blueberries growing near the earth! We joyfully filled a couple of ice cream buckets with sweet treasure.

Before dinner that evening, we bowed our heads in thanks . . .

Lord,

Bless the wind
Bless the loggers
Blessed the fire

Bless the berries