This morning as I picked raspberries, a butterfly parked on a berry and sipped raspberry juice through its long slender proboscis. I picked about a cup and a half, which is respectable for my little patch, but I often think that the plants would rather be elsewhere. Many of them have shriveled up in this hot, dry summer. A good friend of mine in Oregon has a prolific patch of raspberries in her back yard, and when I visited her a few years ago, I almost foundered at breakfast on the plump juicy berries.
The raccoons haven't discovered the raspberries yet this year, thankfully, nor have the deer, whose attention is currently diverted by ripening dogwood berries. Don brush hogged this past weekend, and in the process, tore a small dogwood limb off a tree down the hill from our house. By Monday, the deer had discovered that the limb had a lot of ripe berries within easy reach, and they must love them, because a line quickly formed at the breakfast buffet. Occasionally one of the deer would stand up on its hind legs to sample some berries off the tree, then bat the tree with its forelegs, loosening more berries and showering them to the ground.
I like to think of God stretching out His hand to feed the butterflies and deer and raccoons, and with that same strong, gentle hand, reaching down to care for you and me.
These all look to You to give them their food at the proper time.
When You give it to them, they gather it up;
When You open Your hand, they are satisfied with good things.