Trees, vines, fruit and pruning - a morning reflection

 I am the true vine and my father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit, he prunes, so that it will be even more fruitful. -- John 15:1-2

Our job isn't about making fruit. Our first job is staying connected to the vine. And that has been a challenge all on its own.

The week I got out of the hospital, the tree in the back yard split in half. Luckily it didn't fall on the house, but it came dang close. To me, that was my tree. And maybe I was its human. And it knew before I did that I'd have to leave my patents home. It was in mourning; I felt much the same way when I finally realized this place I had loved so much, loved my family inside its walls, would no longer be my home. 

I think this was just another sign of the many ways I had been pruned since the opening of 2022. I had asked for more fulfillment in my life over the previous few years. And suddenly every stable foundation I thought strong, faltered like it had deep roots built on shifting sand.

Every day I seek out "how do I live life now?" "How can I thrive when I lost so much I had built my life on? My loving parents. My job I felt was my thing. My church. My faith in myself and my talents. I felt like I had major my ticked off my heavenly father and I was having to make amends.

I started attending Celebrate Recovery the month after I got out of the hospital in 2023. The lesson was on making amends. Go figure. I had blamed God for my circumstances. He was all knowing. I had reached out to him as a lifeline when I felt I had no one else to cling to. But blaming God is never really the answer, is it?, and sometimes you just have to buckle down and deal. So many in CR had the most awful life situations that I couldn't fathom living through. Even in my current weakness I saw how blessed I truly was and it helped me align my path in the world... Even though it wasn't the path I really had desired to walk down.

I don't have the perfect job but this one stretches me in ways I've never been stretched. I tried to bring my 35 years of design experience to the table but quickly discovered AI had taken the reigns forcing me to refocus what I wanted to build in my life. This job showed me I can trust myself and my role. And I never thought I'd be any good where the major focus was money and not design. 

But God knew. He showed me I was more. Not the more I thought I was. But the more he knew I could be.

I still miss my old tree. It continues to live in the backyard of my parent's old house. Maybe I will go on a walk one day and visit it.

***

The tree in the front yard of my parent's house was very fruitful but we didn't get to keep much of its abundance. It seems the birds, squirrels and forest animals knew of this fruitfullness  and each night would sneak away with their spoils. One stormy day the top of that tree broke off and dad had a tree trimmer come and shape it back up. Pruning is not a beautiful process. It looks like hell before it ever looks like heaven. I can definitely attest to that.

For years the top of that little pear tree looked like it was lifting its branches toward the sky because they only grew straight upward. It was odd to see that tree and daily wonder if it ever might look normal. I felt that way myself time and again. For a long time that tree looked like a frightened child with its hair sticking upward in dismay. It took a long time before it returned to a more normal state.

And that is what pruning does to us too. We feel out of sorts and wonky for years before true recovery comes along. It was like living in a long limbo where nothing at all made sense and everyone you thought valued you, turned their heads away.

Pruning is not easy on us. But it sure helps us to one day be a more abundant and fruitful tree for God.