Fireflies, Strawberry Pies
I remember the days of long ago; I meditate on all your works and consider what your hands have done. Psalm 143:5 (NIV)
Do you remember going outside with your jar to catch fireflies (lightning bugs)? First, we had to use a hammer and nail to put some holes in the lid. Next, we got some grass and maybe a few little sticks. Then the hunt began. We ran, and tried our best to catch these mysterious, magical flying insects. When we got tired of the catch, we sat our jars on the outside picnic table and tried to determine who caught the most. At the very end, we took off the lids and let them fly to their freedom. Oh, what joyful memories! Louis Lotz (All God’s Creatures) takes this firefly focus a little further.
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Whenever my mother saw fireflies, she would sing this little lyric, “Fireflies bring strawberry pies.” As a small child I formed the mental image of a squadron of fireflies sailing low over the lawn on a summer evening, holding aloft a fresh-baked strawberry pie, steam still rising from the flaky crust. Only much later in life did I learn that fireflies break hibernation and begin flying at about the same time wild strawberries ripen. What I’d always assumed to be a nonsensical ditty was actually a nugget of folk wisdom: when you see fireflies, it’s time to go strawberry picking. Fireflies bring strawberry pies.
And now on this soft summer evening, watching fireflies drifting above the fields, like torches being carried by a distant search party, my memory clicks on, and I smile and remember my mom. What a dazzling, breathtaking gift of God is memory.
Sometimes I misuse the gift. I store up unpleasant memories. I hold on to hurts and humiliations, filing them away for future reference. In the morning I tear the scab off old wounds and feel their pain all over again. What a waste of God’s precious gift. I need to let go of unhappy, unhealthy memories.
But this evening, all the memories are good. I am a child again, chasing fireflies on the lawn with a Mason jar with holes punched in the lid. Frolicking with the dog. Having water-pistol battles with my big sister. The smell of citronella candles. Falling asleep under a mulch pile of Superman comics. Life is full of memories, good and bad, and we choose which we shall dwell on. This evening, by God’s grace, I chose the good ones. I enjoy the ethereal lights bouncing above the gently undulating grass, like so many pixies flitting about holding their lamps. There is a soft breeze blowing, my gardening chores are done for the day, and there is a strawberry pie in my future.
Loving Lord, thank You for good memories! Amen.