pruning

it was my first drive back to school at the end of summer.  the commute is about 25 minutes/miles each way, but i don't mind it.  i particularly enjoy the stretch of country road that leads back in the hills to my school after i leave the interstate far behind me.

my favorite part of that straightaway is this large, empty yard that is dotted with a bradford-pear-tree-boundry.  they line the shoulder in lieu of the picket fence that would seem equally appropriate out here in the country.  no matter what day, what part of the year, or how much i am dreading being awake at an ungodly hour, i absolutely love driving past these trees.  springtime brings bright greens and white buds, nearly enveloping the entire tree in a cocoon of palest-pink cotton.  the petals drop, and usher in the fullest of full, summer foliage.  in the fall, they are rich in reds and golds and yellows; before too long, the leaves collect at its base, begging nostalgia to trust-fall back into its inviting, crunchy pile.  giving way to winter, even the barest of branches stand as a stoic reminder of all the beauty they once grasped.

sometime just before spring,  they pruned back the branches on these larger-than-life trees.  what was once full and blossoming, looked anemic and short and stout.  although it still got spring blossoms, it wasn't nearly as epic as it looked every other season in the past.

but driving by it last week, i noticed that even though it had been trimmed back, the foliage was thick and lush and green.  it was all very close to the trunk, as if the branches had reached out, and welcomed the leaves in a tight embrace.

as i pulled up to the school, i saw more of the bradford pears.  as i parked beneath one, i noticed how scorched the leaves were, winkley signs of their dehydration spread throughout.  some were brown, others wilted, from the record-setting Tennessee heat.  a few branches lay prostrate, paying homage to the mid-summer storm that brought them to their final resting place beneath the shade.

you see why pruning is necessary, Rhiannon? i felt the Lord whisper.

"Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. ³ Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. ⁴ Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. ⁵ I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. ⁶ If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers;and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. ⁷ If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. ⁸  By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples. ⁹  As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. ¹⁰  If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love.¹¹ These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full. --John 15:2-11

I do this because I love you, He says.  I want your joy to be full, and your fruit to be plenty.  pruning is not punishment.  it's protection and provision.  as the vinedresser, i take away what's necessary for growth.  i don't come through, carelessly pulling down branches at random, leaving them at your feet as kindling for a dangerous fire.  there's a plan and a purpose.  yes, you look like you've had to shrink back.  but wait until you can see the fullness of what that looks like.  apart from this, apart from Me, your blossoms will never bloom.  just wait until you see the fruit, this beautiful fruit.  wait for me.  wait with me.  you'll see this is all in love.