This is how I pick raspberry jam–I hold the container and the branch in one hand and pick with the other–picking 12 pints went really quickly . . . because I had a little help from my friends.

Picking raspberries would not necessarily be on my “to do” list. But when asked to join in–I was all about the picking. One of my goals for this summer was to start a great garden and can my vegetables–let’s just say . . . there is always next year. I had to admit defeat on my garden project but I still had plans to make pickles and do some other smaller canning projects with produce from the local farmers markets.

Then my friend called and invited me to go raspberry picking. I jumped at the chance–I could already smell the sweet, hot bubbly, sticks to everything in my kitchen, jam and taste it on buttered toast.

My friend has 4 kids and I have 4 kids but my oldest is her youngest. Another friend came picking as well she currently has 3 kids with her oldest being my youngest.

As we picked (and ate handfuls of berries) I began to look at this raspberry picking in a very different way. All of a sudden it wasn’t about the jam anymore. It was about the Mom before me who I go to for advice. It is about knowing that I have friends who enjoy the simple idea of picking our own food. It is about my opportunity to mentor a Mom who is starting up where I just left off. (Disclaimer: I do not give advice unless asked–although if I do have a massive headache I will ask your kid to quiet down.) It was about extending our friendship from the school parking lot or the church parking lot. These women are real friends–not parking lot friends. Does that make sense?

As I grow and learn and try to figure out my purpose I have begun to realize that I am not and island. As a women, a wife, a mother, a friend–I am called to be with others. I am called to be gentle, loving, kind, respectful and forgiving. All of a sudden this invitation to pick raspberries made me feel special–it empowered me to feel like I could be a mentor and inspired me to write about it. All because a friend asked me to go pick some fruit.

The simple moments can be a wondeful time to open ourselves in a new way, to think about things in a new way and then share them.

Be Blessed.

If I was feeling creative I would try and make a metaphor out of the raspberry brambles and the three women who were picking fruit. The bushes were mostly tall and some were droopy–we all have our droopy days. The new young plants use the older “canes” to hold them up. The plants are strong yet scratchy. The plants like the moms produced beautiful fruit. Sometimes you just gobble the fruit up and sometimes you carefully transport them home to try and create something new. Ok, thanks for sticking with me–that creative feeling is gone.

I am linking up with several food and friendship blogs.