I love when deep truth collides with mundane routine.
This morning, I was out in my garden doing some late summer pruning - sun shining, perfect, mild Oregon day. I started with the obvious – the dead flowers that were an irritant to me every time I walked outside. In the process of that task, I uncovered more hidden needs – some weeds that had been sneakily growing underneath the cover of fallen stems, entire limbs and stalks that had shriveled and died and needed to be pruned out. Those tasks accomplished, I then surveyed the current status of the garden.
With more obvious eyesores resolved, I now noticed a plant that wasn't looking too bad yet, but would need to be cut back within the next week or two. I debated with myself on the wisdom of pruning it now – I may as well do it while I had the tools handy, the time, and the right weather conditions – It wasn't in terrible shape, but it was beginning to fade - Would the stubby stems looks worse than its current state? I finally made my decision and began cutting the long stems. As I cut out the summer growth, I was surprised to find new leaves growing up underneath. I thought my pruning indicated the ending of its season, but here hidden within, I was pleasantly surprised to find more life was yet to come.
In the middle of the stalks, now cut back, I noticed one of my garden stones. I have several decorative rocks, with various words chiseled in them, arranged around my plants. This one had evidently been thrown by the household toddler into the midst of the shrub. I reached down to lift it out and as I turned it over, was struck with that “This is eternity talking – listen up!” feeling. It read HOPE. Had this been a movie, in that moment the camera would have zoomed in on my frozen gaze, followed by a montage of flashback scenarios that pieced together other moments culminating into this one moment's epiphany.
Just when we think a season has run its course, just when we feel life has begun to fade, we see the proverbial clippers heading toward us and we think, “Oh great, another pruning, more change, more loss”. What we don't see is that the Master Gardener knows that underneath that fading, old growth is greener, new life that needs to see the light of day. It's not always just the obvious, dead, shriveled things He goes for. “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.
In the last few years, I think I have learned to not be so afraid of the pruning process. I have learned that those things that feel like loss may really be the road to greater life and vitality. In the midst of life's pruning, my Rock of Hope is in knowing Who holds the clippers.
