Spirituality of Cherries

This weekend, I canned cherries, I made some jam, and have some peaches that will need attention very soon.

It's a fun experience, to process food for the future. There are times when I start to wonder why I'm even bothering - if I can just buy a tin of whatever fruit or veg in the store anytime, why would I want to stand for hours, hulling berries or pitting cherries or peeling peaches? Why boil fruit and canning jars on a hot day when I could be in the hammock with a novel?

Because, come November (or February, or...) the flavour will be fantastic, better than anything I can buy from the store.

I also know that there will be no artificial preservatives in the food; there are no hidden ingredients to trigger allergies or fill up space.

The food I am preserving is local, it's not been subject to days (or more) of travel across however many time zones and geopolitical borders. I will have supported my local economy, chatting with the people who have grown, picked, and sold the produce, in timely season.

I find spirituality is a lot like canning food.  It's best when it's not provided from elsewhere, like a book or podcast, but as an expression of faith development from within a faith community.

I know it best when I do the hard work of the journey myself, even when I want to give up. I know my spiritual growth needs time and effort to be as fruitful as possible; while others are companions on the journey, others cannot tell me how the experience *should* be.

I know what my spiritual journey will have been like this far, and be encouraged to continue on the best pathway, without platitudes or one-fits-all easy answers masquerading as nourishment in my faith nurture.

I know that my journey is best done when at home, and from home. I do my theology from within my own context, and so need to reflect with others from the context on the immediate influences and impacts.

I know too that everything has a season, and it would be unnatural to attempt spiritual growth outside of its natural succession. I can appreciate the gifts of the past as they nourish for the future (like canned cherries mid-winter); but I cannot force growth (like strawberries in March - even those imported don't have the same flavour or nutrition!)

So I canned cherries.

And while I canned, I prayed. I offered thanksgiving for the opportunity to develop my faith nurture as fully (and patiently) as I am filling my pantry.

So when I eat those cherries in a few months' time, I'll be grateful for the experience: they will be a reminder to celebrate what has been, acknowledging I'm in a different spiritual place.

May we all delight in the abundance given us, in spiritual and physical nourishment.