He grows blueberries — lots of them — with painstaking care. He tends them carefully, fertilizing them three times each year, cleaning out the undergrowth, managing the overgrowth, mowing the grass around them. And he eats some of them, but not that many.
He grows them mainly for his friends, folks like me who get a real kick out of picking fresh berries for yogurt or cereal or cobblers. He won’t accept any payment for the amazing, fat, juicy berries that he grows. There’s just one condition: if you pick some for yourself, you have to give some of them away.
Take them to a new neighbor, he says, and build community. Or take them to someone who can’t get out and pick on their own. Share some with a friend who could use a little encouragement.
My friend calls the project his “blueberry ministry,” and it’s one of many ways he finds to share Christ’s love in creative ways.
I was raised by parents who believed the produce in our garden was meant to be shared, as did other friends and neighbors. That atmosphere of communal support is often missing in more urban settings, but a blueberry patch beside one of the busiest streets around is building community, one bucket at a time.