Blueberry Heartbreak

     We had a heartbroken girl over blueberries this afternoon.

     She loves food of almost all types, but her anguish wasn't because she wasn't going to get to eat blueberries.

     She had hoped to pick blueberries this summer as a way of earning money.

     We had an interesting discussion that she started with me a few months ago.  She said, "Mom, you know how I don't really like to do work and chores around the house?  How I'd much rather have free time instead?"

     "Yes, Brittany, I do." (Oh, how I do.  She has greatly improved over the years, and doesn't usually whine or complain about getting busy to help around the house, but I know that in her little heart, she is still a'strugglin'.)

     "Well, Mom, I think that since I don't like to work all that much, but I want to earn some money this summer, I'd like to pick blueberries at the big local blueberry farm."

     "Oh, you would, would you?"

     After talking about picking blueberries several more times during the spring, I agreed to allow her to pick blueberries.  This meant that Mom and older sis would be coming along, too, and earning money picking berries.  Many other families we know have had their children work in the blueberry fields near our community, so we knew that this was a possibility.

     This morning, we went down to the bank and opened up the safe deposit box to get the girls' social security cards and their photo ID.  We drove out to the blueberry farm, which is about 20 minutes away from our house. 

     We found the office (very nice, by the way!) and began filling out the forms.  As the office worker processed the family ahead of us, we heard her say to the younger boy in the family, "Oh, you aren't 12 years old?  I'm sorry, you won't be able to pick this summer."

     Of course, my younger daughter's ears pricked up.  We had noticed that on the farm's answering machine, it stated that to pick out in the field, the workers must be at least 12 years old. Normally, I would have believed this and would have not gone to the trouble of driving out there to fill out a job application.  But, everyone we knew who had picked out in their fields before told us that as long as I was there with the girls, they could still pick berries, that their berries would just go "on my card." 

     Ah, but the child labor laws changed last year, and now children really do need to be 12 years old to legally pick for pay out on a farm. 

     Oh, but the disappointment of a child who had been looking forward to spiritually developing an area in which she knew she was weak!  Brittany held her composure (thankfully!) until we got into the car and rolled up the windows.  Then, the tears let loose.
 

     She wears her heart on her sleeve, but has matured so much with this in the last couple of years.  After a couple of minutes of crying quietly, she began to ask me questions and then accept what had happened.  Instead of dwelling on the problem for the next 10 hours, she talked it out and decided that "His ways are not our ways." 

     I have a lot to learn from her maturity about this:  dashed dreams and honorable hopes that have fallen to the wayside.  But instead of throwing a fit or moping around for two days, she pulled herself together and learned another life lesson:  we don't always get what we hope and long for in life. 

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