The All-of-It

I saw God at Moorhead’s Blueberry Farm. She was coming out as I was hustling in. I knew it was Her from the way She smiled at me from under Her white ball cap. And from the way Her bucket was full to almost overflowing with blueberries.

“Oh. Wow.” I said, looking at her bucket. I lifted my eyes to Her face, and something about Her expression…I felt like She could see the All-of-It. And the All-of-It was this:

When my traditional blueberry picking partner couldn’t make it this year, I put hands on hips and said, “Well. I will go by mySELF.” 

I wanted to go because Husband isn’t feeling well, and Husband likes blueberries. 

BUT ALSO

I wanted to go because when I leave Houston behind for the blueberry farm, something in me relaxes. I feel like I’m home in rural Preble County, Ohio, surrounded by farms and a wide-open sky. 

But today the All-of-It also included this:

Without Picking Partner, I was a little lost.

Walking into the farm, I was already running an hour-and-a-half late. I’d missed a turn on the way (stupid Siri) and spilled my triple grande mocha all over the car seat. In the past, Picking Partner handled these things for me. She brought the mocha, drove me to the farm and kept me on time. 

There’s more.

PICKING PARTNER KNOWS WHERE THE GOOD PICKING PLACES ARE. I never pay attention because I don’t have to. Picking Partner tells me where to go and when to move on, answering in her no-nonsense voice “No-he-won’t” when I protest, “But I have to get that last berry! He’ll be sad to be left behind by himself.” Picking Partner also reminds me to drink water (which she carries in HER backpack) and reminds me to rest my shoulder. She brings sunscreen.

So I stood there before God and Her bucket full of berries wondering how I was ever going to make a big bucket o’ berries happen for mySELF without Picking Partner. Worried about my late arrival, I exclaimed, “Oh no! Are there any left?”

And God stood there, looked at me and the All-of-It and said reassuringly,

“There are more.” 

She paused, then leaned in and said quietly, “Go back into the bushy area.”

“Oh, THANK YOU!” I exclaimed, and God chuckled.

I wasn’t exactly sure what “bushy area” meant, BUT I HAD FAITH IN GOD, so I walked and walked past neat rows of picked-clean blueberry plants until I came to an area that looked bushy to me, with no clear pathway, and I entered the bushes — and, well, I guess my picture best tells the end of that story.

While I filled my bucket, I listened to the birds and the faint chatter of children and laughter of parents, the whirring of distant farm equipment…I thought of loved ones, and talked to the berries (yeah. I said that. I talk to blueberries)…and I realized that in Her own beautiful mystical way, God had remained to pick blueberries with me,

right in the middle of the All-of-It.

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“Where can I find God?” you ask me.
“In the All-of-It,” I tell you.