The Fruit of Our Labor... Yum.

Yesterday was a very yummy day. My parents recently discovered that they have blackberry bushes growing over the hedgerow that lines their property. Mom had already spent one afternoon picking and I went and helped her pick some more yesterday. Our hands show the wounds we earned while picking in such nasty brambles, but our dinner table last night also showed the reward of such labor. A delicious pie was enough to make up for getting thorns caught in my pant legs, in my hair and in my hands. While I was picking I was reminded of how hard the Lord has worked for us. The scratches in my hands will heal, but the scars He has in His will be there forever. I was willing to get scratches up in order to taste the goodness of those berries or have a pie. The Lord Jesus was willing to die so that we could taste of His goodness and be with Him in glory. Makes all my effort seem rather puny if I think of it from that perspective. Perhaps I should've been a little more willing to share the fruit of my labor with the man that I love...