Gems on the Roadside

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

I found myself singing out this old favourite hymn this morning as I walked with Dusty down the road. Great is thy faithfulness.

Found myself singing, despite the sudden death of a dear old friend yesterday, the loss of a personality in this world who brought joy and cheer and wise words to many. The loss of a carer in her family. Heaven’s gain, is our loss.

Yet I was singing. I heard the birds singing, and wondered if they experience grief. How much more often they must suddenly miss a bird from a neighbouring nest, or even a mate or chick. Maybe I’m taking this too far, but I don’t think so. Animals have the capacity for emotion, too, I think. Dusty certainly does anyway.

I carried a punnet with me. Yes, as I admitted in yesterday’s blog, I’m a pack rat and the brambles are ripening nicely along the verges and in the hedges.

Was a time, thirty years ago, when elderly couples parked their old Morris minors precariously along the verges and could be seen picking all the wee sweet gems they found. No longer. The hazards on the country roads these days are in the form of packs of cyclists who range across the road widths, sometimes oblivious to traffic building up behind. They seek fitness and health. Do they achieve it in a better way than those who used to glean along the edges of the road, go home and make crumbles and jams and cakes from these fruits grown without chemicals? Debatable.

Now it’s just me, dotting from bush to bush as Dusty moseys along the road in front of me. 

Sometimes the plump black berries glint like deep blue sapphires among the willow herb. Easy to spot, easy to pick. Sometimes they lurk beneath leaves, over walls, under bushes, needing to be ferreted out. Not all are ready for picking. Some are still red and solid, waiting for the kiss of sun which will sweeten its taste.

Inside, I’m still sad. Grieving for my friend, for her family, so suddenly bereft of her sunny disposition. But I’m picking the fruits which God has provided. All I need, his hand provides. He knows the sorrow, and he provides for that, too. He knows the anxieties, and he has a solution for that as well.

Sometimes the gems he gives us are obvious and drop into our laps. Other times we need to linger, to look carefully, to listen, to glean. 

Today, as I came up the drive, a drop fell from the tree above. I thought at first it was a heavy droplet from rain the night before. But it was white.

A bird dropping, right on two of my beautiful brambles. (Don’t worry, anyone who might be served crumble at my house – they will be carefully washed!)

We need to take care that the world doesn’t soil the gems God gives us. 

May you glean diamonds from the treasury of God our loving father today. Just watch out for the birds overhead...