Sunday, September 30, 2012

My Raspberries Made Me Cry... Ugly Cry

My husband informed me that it is time to move the raspberries.

I have fought this for a couple of years. Once raspberries are transplanted, they do not yield berries the next year. It takes time for them to take root. Even longer to produce enough berries for this crowd to eat, let alone turn into jam!

In fact, after three years, our bushes finally produced enough raspberries for our family to eat all summer. Not enough to can, but enough for everyone to feast on.

Yummy!

Here's a condensed history leading up to the talk about transplantation.

Kids wanted a treehouse. We have no trees. Stern asks neighbor if we can borrow his trees and gets his consent. Stern, Jedrick, & Coyote build. They build and build and build. Tree house is two stories. Neighbor gets nervous. Neighbor says it has to come down. Stern's kids cry. Neighbor offers a crane to lift it out of the tree into our yard. Crane has to drive on my raspberry patch.

"NO!" I shouted at my husband. "They are the ONLY thing I care about that grows on this place!"

Now, I know that may have seemed a little irrational... aaaaand.... Stern may have walked away wondering where this explosion came from. You know, cuz I'm always super calm and rational and all. Seriously.

I realized I have attached the life of those raspberries to my children... Bo in particular.

If those raspberries are moved, there will be no berries until the year Bo graduates from high school and leaves for college. In some weird way I feel like if the raspberries stay there, Bo will stay a little longer.

If those raspberries are moved, I will never hope to have raspberries again. I don't want raspberries! Raspberries will mean the drain plug has been pulled from the bottom of the family home and one by one our children will begin to slip out the drain and on with their amazing lives fulfilling dreams and hopes of their own. First Bo, a year later Jedrick, and the outflow will continue, taking my heart with it.

I went to my room and cried and cried. The ugly cry ~ puffy eye/spastic breathing cry as I poured out my heart to my Father in Heaven who I knew would understand my heart. I felt peace but knew that I cannot stop time.

Regardless of where the raspberries end up, I still have time. That is all my children want anyway. I want to enjoy the time I have with them while it lasts. 

They don't stay like this for long.