Pruning

“I am the true grapevine, and my Father is the gardener.   He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more. You have already been pruned and purified by the message I have given you. Remain in me, and I will remain in you. For a branch cannot produce fruit if it is severed from the vine, and you cannot be fruitful unless you remain in me. John 15: 1-4 NLT

I was lying on the couch that cold March afternoon, flipping through the channels to find the LOP (Least Objectional Program). “No” to Soap Operas, “no” to cartoons and reruns, “no” to game shows. With all these channels, is there really nothing to watch? I was desperate to find something, or I would fall asleep.

For several weeks now I had been sidelined by a mysterious illness. My doctors were stumped. Tests showed absolutely nothing. But I was exhausted and dizzy. I had trouble thinking and finding words (and sometimes when I did find some, they were the wrong ones and made no sense!) I fought to stay awake during the day… and to fall asleep at night. I had about a 5-minute window each hour where I had the strength to do a task. Then I would crawl back to the couch and lie down. I was pretty much helpless and useless. My family had to pick up the slack.

So on this particular day, feeling very sorry for myself, I finally happened on a gardening show. Okay. This might be interesting. Or at least not annoying.

The subject of the day was grapevines. To my complete surprise, each vine was pruned down to the basics of stem and branch. (see https://binged.it/2HVbdPw for an image of the results.) Apparently this is standard procedure for grapevines.

And I began to understand what was happening to me. The Master Gardener was removing all the unnecessary growth so I could produce more fruit. What I hadn’t understood was how much of the things that filled my life were unnecessary; the illness reduced me to the bare essentials. But I started to believe that day that the Gardener had a plan for me. After all, pruning, although painful, is really a hopeful thing.

It would be several weeks more before I had a diagnosis (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome). And three years (and an antidepressant) after that before I began to feel well again. I still contend with episodes of varying length. It always takes me by surprise. I still spiral into feeling helpless and useless. But I’m trying to learn patience, to think of it as proof, as we used to say, that “God isn’t finished with me yet.”