berried

That's me way down there...

I couldn't believe it. Here we were, an hour and a half hike from civilization and above tree line to pick low bush cranberries. Yet, as far as my hands could see, flourished fields of untouched blueberries. Once I comprehended the expanse of the berry bushes, restraint became impossible. Ruth and Lyn pressed up towards the low bush cranberries. I sank to my knees in tundra and bright, popping berries. In their eagerness, the small, sweet fruit pierced itself on my greedy fingers, staining them with happiness.

We had set out on our expedition at 10:00 that morning. When my friends finally wrenched my seduced fingers from their assault on the mountain berries and we returned to the car, it was 3:45 in the afternoon.

When I am berry picking, I want nothing else. I feel like I am doing the work God made me to do, and I am radiantly content.

You know what heaven will be? An inexhaustible field of berries where my desire and energy to pluck them will be both insatiably endless yet constantly complete.

***Thank you Ruth Doctor for the photos.

Dry Run

This summer I was certified by Alaska CHARR to serve alcohol and received my official TAP card. They needed help serving champagne during an approaching wedding at the hotel. At the class, I met a women who owns a catering business in town. Actually, she gave me a ride home. 

"We always need people with their TAP card," she said as she handed me her bright pink email.

Several weeks later I emailed her. She emailed me back. They needed help with an event. Cautiously, I asked if I would be mixing drinks. As sheepish as I was about admitting my complete ignorance of preparing mixed drinks, I was more mortified by the possibility of not being able to meet that expectation. 

She assured me they only needed my help pouring beer and wine. 

Great.

That weekend, I timely strove into the golf chalet and was promptly shown the location of all the alcohol and glasses behind the bar area. In a moment of dismay, I realized that I was hired to be a bartender. With increasing panic, THE bartender. 

I had never been behind a bar before, but a great career must always begin somewhere and everything is completely new at some point….Nevertheless, I wished for a proper teacher. The entire night I felt the heat of the neon sign on my forehead flashing and blinking: "INEXPERIENCED!" No matter how scarce the wine's bubbles nor how easily I popped the caps from their frosted bottles, no one could have missed that sign.