{"id":409,"date":"2011-05-07T08:05:25","date_gmt":"2011-05-07T12:05:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/simplelife\/?p=409"},"modified":"2011-05-06T00:11:45","modified_gmt":"2011-05-06T04:11:45","slug":"picking-the-strawberry-fields","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/simplelife\/2011\/05\/picking-the-strawberry-fields.html","title":{"rendered":"Picking the strawberry fields"},"content":{"rendered":"

Spring in Central Florida means many delights; but one of the best is fresh strawberries. \u00a0\"\"<\/a>When our children were young and early spring arrived, we would pack up a small lunch and some water. \u00a0Then we’d pile into a car with some friends; and we’d all head for the strawberry fields. \u00a0In the morning, while the dew was still on the berries, the children and I would pick enough strawberries to eat and freeze.<\/p>\n

For anyone who has worked in the fields, you know that the exquisitely satisfying part of harvesting berries is sampling the luscious sweetness while bending over the fruit laden plants. \u00a0You don’t ever take home the largest, reddest and plumpest strawberries. \"\"<\/a> Those are eaten in the fields.<\/p>\n

Last month, my daughter, Carol, \u00a0was speaking at a conference in Tampa. \u00a0She arranged to visit with us for a few days because she wanted to be with her ailing father. \u00a0As she\u00a0and I traveled from Tampa to the East Coast, we passed a strawberry farm. \u00a0The harvesters’ large straw hats were the only part of their heads that was visible as they bend over the plants hurriedly picking the ripened fruit.<\/p>\n

We spied the farm’s roadside stand. Quickly wheeling the van into the parking lot, we stopped to purchase a crate of berries. \u00a0When berries have slept in the fields the night before, you don’t get one or two quarts. \u00a0Twelve quarts are the minimum.<\/p>\n

Giggling like two children who’d uncover a chest of gold nuggets, we climbed back into the vehicle, munching our treasure all the way home. \u00a0The juice ran down our fingers and onto our wrist. \u00a0We laughed, trying to lap up every escaping drop.<\/p>\n

That road trip was the beginning of what has become a sorrowful but surprisingly joyful adventure for our family. \u00a0The day before, I learned that my husband’s diagnosis was “adult failure to thrive.” \u00a0In short, his body had moved from terminally ill into the dying process. \u00a0All of the family has come now to say good-bye to their father and grandfather.<\/p>\n

He has suffered from dementia for about 15 years. \u00a0We became accustomed to his forgetful ways. \u00a0Yet, during these precious, holy days, he has slowly slipped closer to eternity. \u00a0This morning when I went into his room, I knew that he didn’t recognize me. \u00a0Because his aide was there, I didn’t ask him questions. \u00a0I left the house at 7am for my work and I didn’t return until 7pm.<\/p>\n

After his caregiver had left, I tiptoed into his room and kissed him hello. \u00a0Again, the vacant, yet, confused and slightly frightened look stared at me. \u00a0I smiled and asked in a chipper voice, “You don’t know who I am, do you?”<\/p>\n

The fear melted and he shook his head, “No.”<\/p>\n

“I’m your wife of almost 50 years and you really should remember me,” \u00a0I said, laughing.<\/p>\n

With his eyes closed, he returned my laughter with his own.<\/p>\n

I continued to tease him, “I have pictures to prove that we are married. \u00a0We have three wonderful children and four amazing grandchildren. \u00a0Guess you don’t remember them either.”<\/p>\n

He opened his eyes grinning with pleasure but he shook his head, ‘No.”<\/p>\n

“You are an engineer, who worked for NASA. \u00a0\"\"<\/a>You had five inventions and you designed a lot of the liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen piping on the shuttle. \u00a0You helped put the men on the moon and no one can take that away from you. \u00a0In short, you are a pretty amazing man.” \u00a0He smiled.<\/p>\n

“Do you remember Jesus?” \u00a0I probed deeper.<\/p>\n

Again, he smiled, but with a broader grin. “Oh, yes, I do,” he whispered to me.<\/p>\n

“That’s the only person you need to remember,” \u00a0I said, taking his hand in mine. \u00a0He tried to smile as he traveled back into his semi-conscious state. \u00a0When I returned to his room about an hour later, he was smiling.<\/p>\n

On the afternoon we bought the strawberries, before the fruit could go bad, I prepared several quarts of the berries to freeze. \u00a0They sit in my freezer at the top of the fruit section. \u00a0Each time I open the freezer they sit waiting for me, still red and inviting.<\/p>\n

I’ll eat those berries while they are still frozen in a few days or a week or month from now. \u00a0I’ll taste the ripe goodness locked in by the cold. \u00a0I won’t eat them in one session but one berry each night. \u00a0I’ll make them last as long as I can and I’ll remember this lovely time. \u00a0But I’m waiting now–waiting until this adventure is over and my husband has gone home to be with the Jesus he still remembers.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Spring in Central Florida means many delights; but one of the best is fresh strawberries. \u00a0When our children were young and early spring arrived, we would pack up a small lunch and some water. \u00a0Then we’d pile into a car with some friends; and we’d all head for the strawberry fields. \u00a0In the morning, while…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":387,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,20,40,10,85,12,41,1],"tags":[87,21,688,696,14,699,701,57,692,700,88],"class_list":["post-409","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-christianity","category-church","category-faith","category-inspirational","category-prayer-2","category-religion","category-spirituality","category-uncategorized","tag-adult-failure-to-thrive","tag-christian","tag-christianity","tag-church","tag-death-and-dying","tag-faith","tag-inspiration","tag-prayer","tag-religion","tag-spirituality","tag-terminal-illness"],"yoast_head":"\nPicking the strawberry fields - A Simple Life, a Childlike Faith<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"noindex, nofollow\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Picking the strawberry fields - A Simple Life, a Childlike Faith\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Spring in Central Florida means many delights; but one of the best is fresh strawberries. \u00a0When our children were young and early spring arrived, we would pack up a small lunch and some water. \u00a0Then we’d pile into a car with some friends; and we’d all head for the strawberry fields. \u00a0In the morning, while…\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/simplelife\/2011\/05\/picking-the-strawberry-fields.html\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"A Simple Life, a Childlike Faith\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2011-05-07T12:05:25+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2011-05-06T04:11:45+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/simplelife\/files\/2011\/05\/Alex-Sophie-Strawberry-Fields-by-alexthoth.jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Linda G. 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