How blueberries remind me that I have the strength to stay

Sometime this summer I found myself standing in the grocery store, frozen in front of a display of the most beautiful blueberries.  So plump, so pretty, so fresh.  Not to mention--so cheap.  


I couldn't resist.  I bought an enormous amount.  Far more than I could devour during their life span, and far more than I had any business buying.

I brought them into my home, and looked at them lovingly.  Then, I promptly froze them.

They say blueberries are one of the best things you can eat--that there are a multitude of vitamins nestling inside of those purply-blue skins.  What's more, they say the purply-blue is a result of the high number of antioxidants that blueberries contain.

(Since antioxidants supposedly fight wrinkles, and since I am recently highly aware of my wrinkle-potential, I find this fact to be compelling.  Hence, the enormous amount of blueberries now in my freezer.  I am not merely a sucker for pretty blue things at practically no cost, you see.  There is obviously much more depth to me...)

Sometime in the past week, I took one of those frozen blueberry containers out of my freezer.  I set them out to thaw on my counter, and then stowed them in my refrigerator.  Those blueberries were now available--ready to nourish me.

And so, this morning, as I went to dig a handful out of the container to add to my yogurt, and as I noticed the purply-blue stains that were suddenly covering my fingers, I remembered something.  And--though it may seem completely unrelated--it struck me as important to note.

What I remembered was this:

This is the first time since I left my parent's home at the age of 18 that I have lived in one place for longer than 3 years.

Now, I realized this a month ago, when my 3 year anniversary in State College hit.  And, it might not seem like such a big deal to you, my faithful friends and readers.  But here's the thing:

THIS IS A BIG DEAL.  

The reason I didn't bring it up when I first realized it was that I was a little afraid that it wouldn't stick.  That I would freak out at the realization of this long-term commitment.  That I would run away.  Move to Alaska or something dramatic like that.  I have reason to fear this reaction, because--this is what I always do.

When life isn't what I thought it would be--I run away, to someplace where I think it might be better.  

When I've lived too long with the same people--I run away, because it's inevitable that they'll figure out all of my flaws any day now.  

And when that little restless voice inside of me starts to wave it's arms and kick it's feet--I run away, because I know what that voice is reacting to.  It's reacting to a bigger Voice that is saying, "Now that you're comfortable, your feet on the ground, you're going to have to deal with those things you don't want to face."  

And the restless voice says: Run.

But last year, when an opportunity came for me to leave, I looked God in the face.  And I said: I'm going to trust you--not that you'll guide me as you take me to the next place.  I'm going to trust you to give me the strength to stay.  

So here I am.  With a stockpile of blueberries in my freezer and a few in my fridge, reminding me of three important things:

1.   Sometimes God sticks you in a freezer and let's you get good and comfortable.  But, if all you continually try to do is get yourself to the next freezer, you'll never thaw.  You'll never be available to nourish anybody, including yourself.  And everybody you might have blessed just may start to wrinkle.  

2.  When you're good and thawed, you're going to see the stains on your hands.  Purply-blue, beautiful stains.   Stains that come from life-giving juices.  

And,

3.  Stay.  It's ok.  You have a stockpile of Strength (with or without antioxidants) to do it well.