The Parable of the Blackberry Bush

Have you ever seen a blackberry bush? My sister-in-law, Jess, invited me to pick blackberries with her and my cute nieces.  Blackberry bushes grow to be tall thorny plants with clusters of berries.  Some are easily accessed and others are deep in the bush. I quickly realized, as I picked the berries, that my hands and arms were scraped and bleeding from the insult of the thorns, even if I was so careful.  I started to think about life and how picking blackberries teaches so many lessons. I wrote the following parable leaving the meaning up to you, since we all need to hear and learn something different.

There was a girl who loved blackberries.  She felt so lucky because they grew in abundance down by the river.  Each day she walked the short distance to pick a basket full of berries.  She brought them back to her cottage to create delicious and beautiful deserts for friends and family.  One day, she had the desire to make a decadent blackberry tart that was never attempted but dreamt of.  Only the best blackberries would do for this particular desert. And she was sure that she would have no problem finding the right ones. Since she picked blackberries daily, she was fully aware of the thorns on the bush. However, they were never a problem.  The berries always seemed to be within reach, away from danger. So the thought of bringing gloves never crossed her mind. She fetched her basket and was on her way.

When she arrived at the river, her heart sank when she noticed that all the best blackberries were deep in the bush.  Determined, she quickly pushed any doubt aside. She just had to get the best because only the best would do.  Remembering she didn’t have gloves, the girl carefully and slowly reached through the bush.  But she failed.  The thorns had gotten to her hands and arms.  She quickly pulled her arm back, further injuring herself.  She was so nervous to try again but those blackberries were too good to pass up.  She firmly decided that those were the berries she would get. She tried again.  And again, the same results.  But this time she was frustrated and tired.  She didn’t know if she should go on. 

As she was contemplating what do to, a man walked down the path.  He saw her frustrated and tired disposition and asked if there was any way he could help.  She refused his help.  This was her problem and allowing anyone to help would prove she was a failure.  She continued to think.  Before long, a gust of wind raced through blowing blackberries to the ground. She pushed them aside thinking there must be something wrong with these berries since they had fallen so easily from the bush.  At last, she looked up and saw a small opening in the bush.  The wind had tossed the branches and leaves in the storm.  The leaves had surprisingly stuck to the thorns making it a safe opening to put her bare hand through.  Sadly, her hopes were dashed.  The opening didn’t provide an easy way to the particular berries she so desperately wanted. 

Her frustration, doubt, and fear had won.  She decided to return home empty handed.  The tart she so wanted to make remained a dream.  That night she wondered why it had to be so hard to pick blackberries this time.  Her whole time living in the cottage she pick them so easily.  Why did today have to be so different?