Your Sunday Retreat with Christa Mastrangelo Joyce

Your Sunday Retreat with Christa Mastrangelo Joyce

Share this post

Your Sunday Retreat with Christa Mastrangelo Joyce
Your Sunday Retreat with Christa Mastrangelo Joyce
U Pick

U Pick

Christa Mastrangelo Joyce's avatar
Christa Mastrangelo Joyce
Jul 06, 2025
∙ Paid
3

Share this post

Your Sunday Retreat with Christa Mastrangelo Joyce
Your Sunday Retreat with Christa Mastrangelo Joyce
U Pick
2
Share
U Pick, by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

STRAWBERRIES, said the roadside sign,
big red letters on a white-washed board.
We followed the signs to the farmer’s field
and wandered into long green rows,
one stiff blue carton my hands. Such blessing
to kneel on the ground and gather
ripe red sweetness with our fingertips,
to pull the small fruits into our mouths
and hum as their sun-warmed flesh turned
to juice on our tongues. How simple
to smile, thinking of nothing but finding
the deepest red berries, praising
our back-road luck. Oh innocent minutes
spent only in joy, forgetting for a moment
how everything is fragile. Later, the news
came crashing in. Such difficult news.
But for those moments, we lived in such
generous sweetness, such abundant
red sweetness, such wholly shared sweetness,
the kind of sweetness so real that while
you’re in it, you slip out of time
and mistake sweetness for eternity.

red strawberries
Photo by Oliver Hale on Unsplash

Your Sunday Retreat with Christa Mastrangelo Joyce is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.


I remember when summer was a glorious promise of abundant sweetness in the form of berries, vegetables, warm bodies of water to jump into, and extra long hours of sunlight. And now? Isn’t so much a mess in this world, my adult mind chides?

The paradox of doing human life is that yes, there’s a lot that’s a mess and there’s a lot that’s beautiful. Middle school camp reminded me that the promise is still, but my adult mind too easily misses it. There are, afterall, old retired army fellas working as maintenance men who fall in love with old swans and make them part of their heart.

The news is everyday crashing in with it’s terribleness. Thinking of it is like remembering the book Where the Wild Things Are, all those monsters gnashing their horrible teeth and rolling their terrible eyes. It’s worrisome, divisive, and blocks the view of so much lovely and good. Yet in the end of that beloved book, Max learns to have a nice meal with the bunch.

Flowers, swans, birds, summer fruit, early morning sunshine from my front porch, sunlight that carries me toward my bedtime hours, the darkness filled with the twinkle of fireflies and starlight~all of it a reminder of the promise. Summer is still abundant; nature still promises beauty.

Last night a chorus of cicadas were interrupted by the squeals of a group of neighbor children jumping into their pool. The night before a giant field of little ones ran around to bluegrass music, cartwheeling and dancing and throwing light-up flying saucers into the air, while fireworks exploded above us.

I’m not suggesting anyone buries their head in the sand and pretend that there isn’t important work to do. But the poem reminds me: “U Pick.” Today, I am choosing to pick the abundant sweetness of summer and letting it place me deeply into the heart of this particular moment.

It take a little effort to train the attention toward noticing what is beautiful and good. Sometimes, a little retreat from the louder story and a friend to notice with can help. May this be so.

This post is for paid subscribers

Already a paid subscriber? Sign in
© 2025 Christa Mastrangelo Joyce
Privacy ∙ Terms ∙ Collection notice
Start writingGet the app
Substack is the home for great culture

Share