Pack Rats and Blue Birds

I was a Blue Bird, and then a Camp Fire Girl, when I was growing up in California. First there was Day Camp at Camp Suanga, in North Long Beach, which was great fun and included one overnight at the end of the week. I suppose that was to break us young girls in slowly to the excitement of staying away from home, in tents for one or two weeks.

As a Camp Fire Girl I went with my group to Camp Wintaka, in the mountains outside of Los Angeles. We had great adventures and I have happy memories of those trips, those nights under the stars, the songs round the camp fires, the s’mores and pigs in a blanket. 

I never went home empty handed. It might be one or two sugar pine cones which I thought particularly pretty. One time it was a twisted piece of Manzanita wood which I found on the ground. 

My mother still hangs it above the fireplace at Christmas, decorated with elves and festive balls.

Mom and Dad sometimes called me a little packrat, and I guess that characteristic has stuck with me. Whether it is small pine cones and twigs to start a fire with in the winter, or bigger logs to keep it going, or wild raspberries along the lanes or, at this time of year, brambles – my eyes are always scouring the countryside for treasure as I walk Dusty.

It’s a bit early for brambles (black berries) I thought, but yesterday, nearly back home, I discovered a treasure trove of them, swollen and soft with juice, twinkling like jewels in the afternoon sunlight. I zipped home for a plastic box and returned to collect what was there. It’s going to be a fabulous crop of these fruits which make such delicious desserts, combined with apples and a crunchy sweet topping. 

I love the way God gives us different treasures for different seasons. Whatever the season, there will be something special there, waiting to be discovered.

We just need to train our eye to see what the treasure is. We may find it in the most unlikely place. We may not recognise it for a treasure at first; it may take us practice to pick out what is, in fact, a gift from God.

This morning I was ‘hunkered down’ as I walked Dusty. The sky hung low with dark grey clouds. The wind blew strong and sprinkles of fine misty rain sprayed down on me. I tried not to be grumpy but did have a few random regrets that summer is over and here we go again. 

Then I turned the corner, lifted my eyes to the skies, and there was a thinning of the cloud where the sun’s rays were beginning to shine through. A treasure. I could have missed it.

Life is seasonal. Sometimes it is rosy – cloudless skies, abundant fruit, laughter and joy. More often, though, there are some dark clouds scudding through our skies, obscuring the treasures that God wants us to see, to pick up and savour.

Taste and see, the Lord is Good. His mercies are new every morning, and his faithfulness never ends.

I’m not very excited about being compared to a rat, but there is something kind of endearing about being a pack rat. Always looking for treasures, even in the unlikeliest of places.