So, I was in one of those moods, where I'm sick of being in my own head, but good and stuck there.
God: (to whom I wasn't especially talking at the time) You ought to go out back.
Me: Yeah, I guess You're right. Watching the weeds choke the life out of the strawberries won't put me in a worse mood, and I can put a hose on the tomatoes.
God: Whatever. Just go outside.
So I go outside and pull ugly weeds for a while.
Me: Hey, raspberries!
They've got viney weeds creeping up them, and they've developed an infestation of little black bugs I haven't seen before, but still I get a whole grundle—enough to eat AND share.
Me (working my way down a row of defunct broccoli): Whoa. Golden raspberries.
I bet I got a dozen—almost unheard of from this bush, whose raspberries are called "golden" for more than one reason.
God: Heh. Told you so.
Lots of Useful Mental Health Facts , and some Tedious Metaphors could be gleaned here. But a raspberry is not a metaphor. It's a very small gift from heaven. And a golden raspberry is an outright miracle.