Have you ever been driving somewhere and then arrived at your destination only to realize that you don’t actually remember driving there?  As though, you had somehow blanked out for a period of time leaving you with a very vague memory of stopping at traffic lights or changing lanes?  This has happened to me only a couple of times and I’ve always come away from it with an uncomfortably eery feeling that almost seems to follow me around.

This happened to me again yesterday during my early morning yoga class.  I arrived – yoga mat in hand…and an hour later, as the class came to an end, it occurred to me that I didn’t really remember any of it.  I was there.  I did my sun salutations and my downward dogs…but I wasn’t present.  I wasn’t engaged in any of it.  It was just one more thing on my list of things to do.  One more thing to check off that list so that I could move on to the next.  And that is not a state of living that I enjoy very much.

The past month for us has been a swinging pendulum between struggle and gratitude.  It’s been a struggle because of a relentless viral infection that had both of our children in the emergency room and left all of us out of commission for nearly three weeks.  It’s been filled with gratitude because of how much love and friendship has been shown to our family over the course of this time.  From taking time to play with our kids…to driving us around when the other was at the hospital…to keeping us company in the emergency room – the outpouring of affection has been overwhelming.  And it’s a gratitude that has far outweighed the struggle.

But it has still left me tired.

The constant trips back and forth to the doctor…the ridiculously sleepless nights…the endless renewing of prescriptions and keeping track of everyone’s antibiotics…it’s taken a slight toll on me.  It’s left me with a feeling of almost complete disconnect.  A feeling of getting through my days without really experiencing my days.  And that makes me sad.  And a tad irritated with myself.

By yesterday afternoon – and yet another visit with the doctor – I really needed some time on my own.  A little bit of space.  A little bit of room to step back from it all.  So I decided to go strawberry picking.  One of my most favourite summer activities and something that I hadn’t yet done this year.

I drove almost half an hour out of town to a field that was nearly a kilometer wide.  As I drove up, the man at the gate explained that the raspberries were in a field on the other side of the road.  When I told him that I wanted to pick strawberries – and not raspberries – he told that the season had ended…it was all over for the year.

Perhaps he saw the desperation in my eyes…the desperation of not letting yet another experience slip between my fingers.  Or perhaps the scorching heat had depleted his will to argue with me…but either way, he agreed to let me go.  He assured me that it would take a while – that the pickings were slim at best – but I was free to give it a shot.

So there I was…just me, at two o’clock in the afternoon in thirty-five degree heat, in this giant field of wilted plants and dead strawberries.  Trust me…the irony wasn’t lost on me!  But something came over me at that time.  A determination.  A desire.  A need to know that – right now – it couldn’t all be over just because someone told me it was too late.  Of course, by this time, I wasn’t really sure if I was looking for strawberries or the pieces of myself that I had lost in the haze of the last month…but either way, I was convinced that it was hidden in this field somewhere…just waiting to be found.

At first, I was pretty discouraged.  Every where I looked, I saw nothing but dirt and a season that had already passed me by.  But then, with a glance…five rows over, I saw one.  And then another.  And another.  So I made the executive decision to break the rules of strawberry picking and jump between rows instead of remaining with my appointed flag.  Because here’s a universal truth about life…when you are searching for hope…joy…or that perfect strawberry…then rules simply don’t apply.  When in pursuit of what supposedly can’t be done…YOU are the only one that gets to make the call.  You jump the rows.  You eat as many as you want along the way.  Because let me assure you of something – if you see it and don’t go for it…one of two things will happen; it will either wither and die in its neglect…or someone else will come along and capture that moment for all that it’s worth.  Either way though, if you don’t go for it {or take too long to think about it}…you will lose sight of it and it may never be found again.

Nearly ninety minutes later – my arms covered in bug bites, my face sun burnt, my back aching, my clothes soaked in sweat – I walked back to my car with a four litre basket in tow.  As I approached, the nice man gave me a slightly crooked smile and said “You did it!”

After giving him my own slightly crooked smile, I drove away with my treasure thinking “Hell yeah, I did it!”

And you better believe that it’s the best damn basket of strawberries you’ll ever see…