Molly Daniels slammed the cupboard door so hard that the dishes inside rattled. Then she glared through the kitchen window at her neighbor across the yard. "There she goes again! Those are my blackberry bushes, not hers. I ought to call a cop."
Her friend, Doris, sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in her hands. "Because the plants are on your property, I presume?" she asked calmly.
"Of course," Molly shot back. "What would you do if your neighbor waltzed into your backyard and starting picking the apples off your tree?"
"I'd say, better her than the yellow jackets."
"Yellow jackets don't get my blackberries."
"But the birds do," Doris continued, "That old lady picks less than a pint every year -- the ones that are not good enough for freezing, the ones you leave behind for the birds. She likes to put them on her cereal." Doris took a sip of coffee. "Now, instead of you fuming and fussing and getting all bent out of shape over nothing, I have an idea."
"What?"
"Why don't you just give her a jar of your best blackberries?"
Molly's eyes became wide as saucers. "Are you out of your mind?"
"I don't think so." Doris stood up and pointed to the mound of blackberries, ready for freezing, soaking in Molly's sink. "Take a few of those, put them into a jar, and just give them to her. And while you're at it, tell her how much you appreciated the time she brought you that crock of chicken soup when you were sick."
Molly's heart did a sudden flip-flop. In her anger and selfishness, she had almost forgotten that little kindness.
She reached up into the cabinet and took out a quart freezer container. Then she scooped up enough berries to fill it to the top and popped down the lid. "You're right," she told Doris. "I'm being so selfish that I could kick myself." She looked heavenward. "Forgive me, Lord." Then she hurried out the back door.
Doris watched through the window as her friend walked across the yard and handed the grateful old lady the container filled with plump, juicy blackberries -- not the ones that she had left behind for the birds, but the pick of the crop. Harsh words and selfishness were instantly replaced with a blessing.
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Copyright 2001 by Ed Price