Pruning

It was a short girl.  Her brown hair tied back into a pony tail and her eyelids shut over the deep blue eyes.  Kneeling in front of a wooden bar that bends with the weight her body.  Slowly, she rocks back and forth.  Hoping there was another way.  But knowing that this was the only way.  Gently, a tear strolled down her cheek.  Wiping it with the back of her hand, she rose from the altar and walked back to the pew where she had been sitting that evening.  

That evening, the pastor had talked about pruning the dead and unfruitful branches from one's life.  He had talked about giving up something that was keeping us distracted, away from Jesus.  He talked about it like it was so easy to do, yet, deep within him, he knew it was harder to do than most of his job.  He told the prayer meeting that they needed to search and listen for God's voice on what was dead in their lives.  And in the five minutes of silence amongst the church after the reading of John 15:2, God spoke ever so clearly to her.  

She wanted so badly to escape the flood of thoughts that rushed into her mind.  Memories that made the friendship seem irreplaceable and greatly needed.  Thoughts of times when no value could be placed on the friendship and things seemed priceless.  But something was missing.  Some crucial element of the friendship was lost like the life-source of a vine.  Nothing could replace the element except the element itself.  (Not much of a replacement?!)  She recalled both the good and the bad times.  When things started going sour yet each strength that came out of each struggle stood as a landmark in the friendship.  But soon, both trust and mistrust tore down those landmarks.  They were merely dust and stumps in the ground.  The terrain became rough and neither party was willing to cross the way by themselves.  She knew that this dead desert had haunted her since the day they both walked away from it.  This was the dead branch the pastor had talked about that night.  But was she willing to give it up?  

Yet it had haunted her enough that it was distracting.  It got in the way of her sleep and other friendships.  It seemed to posses some supernatural power to always arrive in the worst of times.  It poked her often and tripped her.  Surely the only good this branch would do is to be made into firewood!  Yet that night, she was given another option - to give it to God.

So there she was.  Kneeling at the altar, giving Him the one thing that she knew so well, from life to death.  She knew at that moment that it was out of her hands.  Nothing she could do could bring it back to life.  So, she gave it to Him out of obedience, but also in a sense of hopelessness.  There's nothing more that she wanted at that moment, but to bring the friendship back to life.  The black ash showed that the branch had withstood quite a bit of fire, but now...there was no life within it.  What would God do with it? she asked.  But she left it at the altar.  Feeling it gone from her life, she felt a sense of relief.  

Perhaps she is merely human, but the branch hasn't been forgotten.  It is still brought up on occasion.  But she's learning that she can't have it back.  Not the way it was.  (Though, she doesn't want it back the way she gave it to Him.)  Perhaps the life-giving capability of the Gardener will bring it back and make it fruitful.  Perhaps someday the branch will be forgotten.  But for now, and evermore, it is in His hands.  

Still, nothing is solved.  All that remains is unfinished work.  But it is work she cannot do.    


Kneeling by her bedside, she holds tight to the crucifix of her rosary.  Tears stroll down her face onto her blue blanket leaving drops of wetness.  Rocking back and forth she remembers that night.  The dimmed lights of the sanctuary.  The never-ending silence that flooded the building.  She remembers kneeling at the rail giving God the deadened branch in her life that she was so reluctant to hand over.  She wants nothing more than the void of the branch to be filled.  She cries out to God to fill the void.  A warmth spreads over her that is warmer than any blanket can provide.  Her heart stops racing and the tears stop flowing.  Peace gathers from within.  

***

It sounds crazy, I know.  I have no clue if this person still reads my blog, but if so, I hope they know that they are still loved, but are not the only one hurt by the loss of trust.  For trust was lost even before one might assume.  You see, lack of communication reigns as one of the biggest problems in our society.  And when there is lack of communication, there is lack of trust.  When communication is no longer happening on one end, the friendship dies a slow death.  It is the same with the branches within our lives.  If they are not connected to the Vine, how can they ever be in communication?  In fact, they die when they are not connected to the Vine!  But more than that, they lose any hope of ever regaining life.  It is only when the branch is brought to the Divine Gardener that things can begin looking up.  God will not sew back on the dead branch.  It doesn't work like that.  And I don't know what God will do with the branch I've given Him.  But as a branch on Jesus' Vine, I want to strive to be all the Gardener has ever imagined me to be.  And allowing Him to prune and shape me into the person He wants me to be.  Because, after all, I only see part of the plan(t).