The night the hailstorm hit, more than just my garden was crushed.
Something in me was cut away.
The verdant beds had been wrestled from dry, weed-infested ground.
I fought long and hard in that dirt and was just starting to see the scope of my harvest.
And then, I went to dinner one night and came home to complete carnage.
Not a leaf left on the zucchini plants.
The garden beans decimated.
The beds that bordered my yard, the ones that had been bursting with color and variety - they were colorless and bowed low.
The window boxes in the front? They held flowers and vines that had been literally shredded by ice thrown from the heavens.
It felt cruel and personal and hope-crushing.
All this toil was for naught…or was it?
If something is producing, the Gardener prunes it so that it will bear much more fruit .
prune [ proon ]
verb (used with object), pruned, prun·ing.
to cut or lop off (twigs, branches, or roots).
to cut or lop superfluous or undesired twigs, branches, or roots from; trim.
to rid or clear of (anything superfluous or undesirable).
to remove (anything considered superfluous or undesirable).
To rid or clear or remove anything considered superfluous or undesirable…
the real key here is looking at the plant and considering it as such.
Superfluous can feel safe.
Undesirable can be a comfort zone all in itself.
I’ve been pruned.
There’s been a cutting away that I am struggling to rectify.
It doesn’t feel fair.
I want a little more superfluous in my life, I fear.
But it is to the Father’s glory that I bear much fruit and thus prove to be a disciple of Jesus. My life, laid on the altar, is inspected by a Good Gardener, and He doesn’t prune me to kill me, but to increase my fruitfulness.
I am fighting to believe that. Fighting not to mourn what has been lost - both in my garden and in my life. Fighting to trust the One who gives good gifts…and believe one day, this season will give way to another where fruit will be harvested.