Three years ago I posted Nandina Metaphor and my excitement over finally clearing out this space next to the house. No more nandina. No more mint. I couldn’t wait to build a low wall and plant a new garden of flowers and bushes that wouldn’t take a yard after I gave them an inch.

Apparently, I did wait. Too long. Wild blackberries found the open spot and quickly filled in with wild abandon. I have only a hint of how this happened. When our kids were young, we had wild blackberries growing at the edge of our woods. We thought it fun, adventurous, and delicious to be that close to plump berries. We’d go out in the morning and pick a bunch for cereal or yogurt; my son and his buddies would pick them throughout the day while hiking in the woods. Then the kids grew up (as they tend to do), I got busy with life (as we adults tend to do), and the blackberries stopped coming, so I assumed the canes had died off. Apparently, they didn’t.

Like Moses seeing the Promised Land, the canes obviously eyed their room to grow and silently sent their shoots underground across the yard to re-establish residence next to my residence. Some even found their way to the front of the house and grew up with the daffodils and tulips. Whenever I walked by in my busy goings and comings, I told myself I really need to pull out those shoots. But two years ago, I was busy putting in new raised beds. Last year I didn’t have time because I was pulling out poison ivy. By this past spring I felt like Sleeping Beauty whose castle was surrounded by briars and thorns. This was going to be the year to hack away at and dig up the brambles! Until the day I noticed the abundance of blossoms all over the mound of green …

Instead of a hedge of forbidding briars, it now looked like a large bridal bouquet–albeit with thorns. Of course, I couldn’t dig them out now. That would be like slapping away God’s hand and saying, ‘No, I don’t want your blessing of berries.’ So, I waited. Again. This time with intention as each blossom produced a berry; not because I allowed life to get too busy. For the past couple of months after my morning walk, I grabbed a bowl and picked. The picking forced me to slow down, peer under leaves, pull aside canes–ever mindful of those barbed thorns–to find the plump berries hidden from view. Often while I looked, I saw the spiders and their webs, Japanese beetles, other insects and bugs that were also enjoying the fruit. I listened to the birds, knew there was a hummingbird nest in the forsythia bush next to all these blackberry bushes. It all made me smile, breathe deep, feel connected to nature, and be grateful.

There always seemed to be just enough for that morning’s oatmeal or smoothie, with plenty left over to ripen during the day and overnight, ready for my bowl the next morning. Picking berries became one of the best parts of my day. Hubby laughed at me as I picked berries and popped them in my mouth as we walked the front walkway to our cars.

The Grands liked picking, too. Unfortunately, they were used to visiting a pick-your-own berry farm where thornless blackberry bushes were planted. It felt a little like playing Whack-a-Mole as I watched, waited, and stopped little arms from quickly reaching too far into the briars in unsynchronized grabbing. One afternoon they each picked a small Dixie cup full for their ride back home. By the time we got there, one was covered in blackberry juice. I held him at arm’s length and handed him over to his parents.

Our family is going through a thorny patch at the moment and the blackberries remind me there are blessings even in these times. Sometimes I have to look for them, and sometimes they don’t come all at once. But I know and trust they’re there. And maybe that’s why after all these years of no blackberries they came back in abundance. I needed that reminder now.

Thankfully I got the message because as the canes have stopped producing berries, they really need to be pulled out. They are too close to the house. The other night we saw our first racoon, probably checking for any late fruit, and he was way too close to the house too! And just like these canes, I know we’ll eventually be finished with our family thorny patch too.

May you have a week of abundant blessings–whether you see them at first or have to look for them. Sometimes the peering for them is the best part.