Look at the picture of this strawberry. Look at the little black specks, the juicy red, the green tip, and even the little bruise in the middle.
Several years ago, I did a short study with an Iroquois woman who shared that strawberry was their sacred fruit. Each year, she knew that there would be a day when she’d arrive home from school and find one whole strawberry at each of the place settings at the table. Her mother would tell the children about the strawberry’s teachings before they bit into the juicy fruit: the luscious color and sweet juice teaches us about life’s pleasures and joys. The little specks on the outside are life’s challenges that leave their scars, offer some protection, but still leave room for incredible beauty and a softness in between. The strawberry is a fruit of love. As a whole it teaches us to be gentle, to savor, to be strong without giving up sweet love and to grow in groups. The Iroquois woman said that, to this day, she doesn’t eat a strawberry without remembering those teachings.
I grew up with my grandfather and then my father having a fig tree. They grow also from where our family hails in Italy. No one has ever said so but I’ve always thought of the fig tree being our family’s sacred fruit. It makes sense in so many ways.
What is your sacred fruit? What happens when you take a moment to be with a piece of fruit and notice what it wants to teach you? God gives us messages in many ways. I am so grateful for divine patience as I learn to receive those gifts time and again.