God Is Like a Blackberry Vine

I once wrote a poem comparing God to a zucchini plant that can pop up anywhere, including in a compost pile, and produces abundant fruit. Now that we are starting to pick black raspberries, I am realizing that God can also be compared to these vines. Why? Like God’s love, black raspberry roots (rhizomes) spread rapidly right under our feet, though we often aren’t aware of it until a new plant emerges with its promise of fruitfulness. Just as God is relational, many different plants arise from the same underground network of roots. Furthermore, totally uprooting black raspberries is practically impossible because the roots reach so far; similarly, God’s love is inescapable, because where God is there is love, and God is everywhere.

Sisters Alberta Hermann and Barbara Smith and I transplanted our new black raspberry plants from my former house in Leavenworth, and they are flourishing at the Mount; just so, God’s love follows us around, no matter where we transplant ourselves. Finally, when we take root in God’s love, we bear so much fruit that we don’t even begrudge sharing with the birds (who have their own role in spreading the seed).

In the face of black raspberries and of God, the operative word is “surrender”—an especially important spiritual practice for me as a novice, but a lifetime challenge for all of us. Surrender to the newness of what God is doing, though it may prick at times; surrender to the demands of participating in God’s love; and, yes, surrender to the delights of blackberry cobbler and jam!