It’s summertime. I’m in the kitchen cutting up blackberries for a salad. They might be the only thing on the plate that my kids eat. (I’m hopeful anyway.) The kids are playing in their room, so my attention is split between the task at hand and the baby monitor propped up on the bar.
There’s a dull mechanical whirring coming from one of our most annoying toys, left in the kitchen by my youngest when he found something better to do.
Something about these blackberries takes me back. As I work, their juices stain my wooden cutting board, forming little purple pools. In my mind, I’m back in my parents’ galley kitchen in the basement.
Picking Blackberries
It’s the first year our new blackberry bush has given us fruit. I feel like a frontier girl picking berries off the bush. Of course, I was also that kid who ran through the front yard throwing dirt from a bucket, pretending to feed my chickens. (Not having neighbors to play with means finding fun wherever you can.)
I carefully pull berries off the bush, learning just how much pressure it takes to separate the berry from its source without squishing it.
I bring them inside, wash them, and freeze them. To start, I lay them out one by one on a cookie sheet before moving them to a gallon-sized bag. The internet said I should do this.
I spend hours looking up pie recipes. Painstakingly hand-copying them to small, hand-me-down recipe cards. They had a small green vine pattern across the top. I might still have them somewhere.
I am so excited to make blackberry pie, despite never having eaten it before, much less attempting to make it. But when the time comes, I can’t do it. Those berries might still be frozen somewhere in the back of my parents’ freezer, 25 years later.
I couldn’t help but think of those berries as a finite resource. Only so many were produced in a season. What if I messed up, squandered what I was given? If I messed up the pie and wasted the blackberries, there wouldn’t be any more to try again.
As it turns out, being too afraid to try left the berries wasted anyway. I don’t think we ever ate them, just let them slowly burn to death in the freezer. This kind of waste was maybe worse. Rather than attempting, failing, and learning, they sat unused and frozen.
Don’t Be Too Afraid To Try
Looking back, I unknowingly planted an important seed that day. One that I am still tending and growing. Don’t be afraid to try. Don’t be afraid to fail.
I had all the pieces to make something, potentially something wonderful. But instead, I let fear rule. The fear told me I couldn’t do it, that I would fail, that there wouldn’t be enough left to try again.
As I get older, I practice telling myself a different story. I can try. I might fail, or I might succeed. Regardless, there will be enough to try again. It’s a hard story to adopt when you’re usually letting fear drive the car.
By holding back and not using the blackberries, I not only denied myself the opportunity to learn and grow, but also denied those blackberries the chance to live their full lives. It feels silly to word it that way, especially related to blackberries.
But those berries weren’t made to be frozen. They were intended for eating and enjoying. By saving them for a “better time,” or a time when I felt more ready, they lost their juice. Unknowingly, I wasted their purpose. I kept them from living out their fullest life.
So here’s your encouragement – don’t wait until you feel ready. Step out in faith and try the thing. Don’t let the blackberries waste away in the freezer. That’s not good for you or for them.
Don’t put your dreams or gifts in the freezer until you’re feeling more confident. Practice using them now. As it turns out, creativity feeds creativity. The more you do, the more that comes. The more you have. There will always be more blackberries.
