Tag: growth

Just Do It

For every inclination we have to ‘do something,’ we have an equal and opposite inclination to not do it. Call it the physics of human impetus. Sometimes that is our conscience or the Holy Spirit warning us of the potential hazards of an action. Sometimes it is our lazy selfishness or fearful anxiety that prevents us from moving forward.

Nike is urging us to overcome that second form of inertia. Don’t let laziness or selfishness or fear or anxiety stop you from stepping out in faith. Just do it. Plant the garden, plan the trip, make the call, take that first step. Just do it. (In Nike’s case, put on their shoes and exercise!)

I have had people tell me that they want a garden, but they don’t have one. They don’t have the room or the time. They have tried and failed in the past. It seems like too much work. Growing something doesn’t necessarily involve a lot of work unless you choose to let it. You can grow tomatoes in a pot on your balcony. You can grow herbs on your kitchen sink. Yes, you will get your hands dirty on occasion, and you must remember to water your plant, but beyond that, how large and diverse a garden you have is up to you.

What is necessary is the decision to do it. Carve out space in your yard. Buy a pot and a starter plant. Set aside a time to water. If you are concerned, unsure if your inertia is fear or sensible caution, start slowly. One plant. In a safe place.

The beauty of God’s creation is that He made the seed with the desire to become a fruit-bearing plant. Our “work” is simply to let it do what it was created to do. Our work is to clear out those things which prevent that seed from becoming all that it can be.

Your relationship with God, Father, Son, and Spirit, your spiritual growth, the manifestation of the Holy Spirit’s presence in your life is the same. We can make it seem like a big, difficult, time-consuming thing and make excuses for why we don’t invest in that relationship. Or we can set aside a small space on our counter or on the balcony and plant that seed.

Pray. List your concerns. Tell God your hopes and fears. Read His word. Listen to his voice. Have a conversation with Him as you would with a close friend. Give the seed of His Spirit within you a little space to grow, a little water.

He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly before your God? Micah 6:8.

It’s not a long, complicated list.

We may look at someone else’s huge, beautiful garden and think we could never do that. That may be true. God may not be calling you or me to do that. But that should not stop us from growing basil on our windowsill. The fact that some are called to be missionaries in difficult situations should not stop us from taking ten minutes in the morning to sit and talk with God.

Just do it.

Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise man who built his house on rock. The rains fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on that rock. Matthew 7:24-25.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Possibilities

A new year, a blank page, a barren garden – anything can happen. The possibilities are endless.

Will I repeat what I did last year or will I plant something new and different this year?

There have been years when it took all my effort just to repeat in some form what was done before. There have been years when I started the year tired and fearful of the days ahead. (A few years I started hungover…) There were years I dreaded what might fill the pages of my calendar, change I didn’t want but couldn’t stop from happening.

But this year, this new calendar, this barren garden speaks to me of possibilities.

And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” Revelation 21:5.

As Christians, we don’t need to wait for a new year, a blank calendar page, or some indefinable point in the future. Today, in this moment, before the clock ticks the end of the year, God’s Holy Spirit is transforming us.

I am not the person I used to be. I am not who I was as a child, as a teenager, as a young adult, as a mother, last year, a few months ago, or even yesterday.

In my garden, garlic bulbs are forming underground, rocks are migrating to the surface, and nutrients are replenishing my soil. Just as the soil is being made new in my barren garden, so my life being made new every morning, every evening. The possibilities are endless.

No matter what I have planted in the past, I can plant something different this year. Or plant the same things in a new and better way. I can choose to keep the plants and methods that work and change the ones that don’t.

What a gift! Have you made bad decisions in the past? Today is a new day. Do you have regrets? Fears? Doubts? Has guilt or shame or doubt left you crippled and unable to move forward?

Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat, and walk.” John 5:8.

Leave that place of limited possibilities. God has healed you. God has given you a new day, a new year, a barren garden. Go and plant new seeds, grow new things, become a new person, healed and able to move forward through the grace of God.

So, if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation. Everything old has passed away, see, everything has become new! All of this is through God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation. 2 Corinthians 17-18.

Happy New Year, friend. Happy new day, happy new garden.

Love in Christ, Betsy

A garden at Rest

I take my coffee and step outside, inhaling the cool morning air. Geese honk as they fly in formation against a cloudless blue sky. The grass is still green and wet with dew. Warm weather has kept the leaves green, but little pops of color are peeking through. October is a wonderful time to be outside.

I walk my garden, but there is nothing to see, nothing that demands my attention this morning. The basil still grows. I will need to make a batch of pesto before it gets too cold for the plant, but not today. My raspberry and fig still bear fruit, one fig and three or four raspberries a week. Nothing to pick this morning, but their perseverance impresses me.

Soon I will need to pull up the old cardboard and lay a tarp over the ground for the winter. This is a technique one of you suggested as an alternative method of reducing weeds (Thanks LS!), but it won’t happen today.

Today, my garden and I are at rest.

Not all my idleness is restful. Often, I am caught up in books or movies or football games and the hours spent sitting leave me exhausted, or worse, agitated. This is what the people in Jesus’ time were missing about the Sabbath. The rules that kept people idle had generated so much stress that the Sabbath was no longer restful, no longer a day of rest.

Rest comes from the confidence that God has our situation in His hands, and He loves us. It is not always time to plant, to harvest, to work in the garden. Sometimes, it is time to rest.

I can’t speak for you, but rest is hard for me to accept. I want to wrest my situation from God’s hands, take charge, devise a plan, and make it happen. Why put anything off until tomorrow? The world in which I live supports this kind of thinking. We are supposed to be doing something, striving toward a goal, expanding our social group, moving up through the ranks, being all that we can be.

For a few years, when people asked me what I did, I said “Nothing.” You can imagine the reactions I got. I later amended that to say, “I entertain myself well.” Now I say I write, but that always leads to questions about publication and what I am working on and my plans for the future. Perhaps I should say I’m at rest.

Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. Matthew 11:29

This time of rest is good for the garden. Plants take nutrients and water from the soil, and the earth needs time to replenish these. All the little critters and microorganisms in the ground need uninterrupted time to turn dirt into nutrient-rich soil. The garden at rest is not idle; it is resting. Similar to what happens when we sleep, the garden at rest is busy below the surface.

The world can’t see it. I can’t see it. But I know God is in action preparing the garden for the future demands I will make on it. Like sleep prepares us for the next day. Like this time of rest prepares me for what God has in store for me.

For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life. Ephesians 2:10.

Will you join me and my garden and rest today? No stress, no agitation, no wresting your life out of God’s hands. Just rest. Breath in the cool air. Listen to the geese. Admire the cloudless blue sky. Trust God. He created this world, and He loves you.

Love in Christ, Betsy

A Ripe Fig

I’m tired, y’all.

That seems a poor way to start the “school year,” but as I age my year seems more attuned to my garden than to my kids’ activities.

My garden has been put to bed for the fall. Last year the tomato plants survived into September, but not this year. Brown leafless twigs, I pulled them up. My garden is ready for a rest, and so am I.

I have dedicated this year to learning about the publishing industry, especially as it pertains to publishing works of fiction. I have a renewed appreciation for anyone who has navigated this mine field successfully, for someone who has actually been paid to produce their book.

I have met hundreds of authors who have published books I have never heard of and authors who have published thirty, sixty, over one hundred books that I have never read, and I read a lot. Publishers purchase only three percent (three percent!) of the manuscripts they receive. There are also manuscripts that publishers buy but never publish for one reason or another. And yet there are thousands of published books that never cross my line of sight. When I see an author selling her book at a conference, I feel an urge to support them, filling my bookshelves with even more books to read someday.

All this to say that I am eager to return to my old life – card games and gardening, resting, and reading and enjoying meals with my friends.

And like a gentle reminder, I returned from my sixth writers conference this year (ugh!) to find ripe figs in my garden. Just a few. Just enough to let me know that dead as my garden is, God is not done with it yet.

Only one fig is ripe enough to eat today, dark red and soft to the touch. I left the soft pith melt in my mouth as its sweet juice entices my tongue, then enjoy the satisfying crunch of its tiny seeds. Heavenly. A gift. Fruit in a barren garden.

So, here is the question I plan to ponder this fall: When we fail to accomplish whatever goal we have set for ourselves, what is the lesson?

Is the goal unreasonable?

Is the timeline unrealistic?

Are my methods incorrect?

Is my work inadequate?

Do I double down or pivot to something new?

Is this goal in God’s plan or a selfish desire?

All this is because I have drafted a novel and would love to have a publishing house buy it from me, but there is little evidence to indicate that it will happen. The garden looks dead and ready to rest for the winter.

There are ripe figs in this barren land however, sweet moments that remind me that God is not done with me yet. I savor those gifts.

And I cannot begin to thank you for reading this, sharing this, commenting on my posts, and emailing me. Many times, your comments are the sweet figs that keep me going. Thank you.

Finally, as I enter this time of rest and reflection, I am feeding my soul-soil with scripture. Maybe these words from God will speak to your soul as well.

But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Matthew 6:33.

Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain; unless the Lord guards the city, the guard keeps watch in vain. Psalm 127:1.

Whatever your task, put yourself into it, as done for the Lord and not for your masters. Colossians 3:23.

May you find a sweet fig in an otherwise barren garden today.

Love in Christ, Betsy

A Little Change

I made a little change in my garden to solve a nagging problem. Change can be hard, but what if God is calling us to do just that, change?

I’ve had a problem with my lawn service this summer. They come when I am not home. And their mower sprays grass clipping all over my garden plants.

If I were home when they were mowing, I would ask them not to do this. I’m not sure why this is even so much of a problem this year since it hasn’t been in the past. Perhaps they have a new mower, but the problem may be mine. Since I did not pull up all my landscape timbers last year, they have sunk lower into the ground. Several of them are rotting away. The accumulation of grass clipping has hastened this process.

I could text my mower about the problem. I considered replacing all the landscape timbers. But I decided instead to edge the garden with a taller “clipping barrier.” Of course, the stores don’t carry foot-tall edging, so I had to order a trial sample to see if it would work. I like the look.

This edging may help with critter control as well. It’s different. Time alone will tell if it’s better.

My daughter, who works with ministry innovators, often writes about how change often happens slowly, develops through necessity, and occurs when we are focusing on something else. I look at my garden as the sixth summer without my husband draws to a close and I see change.

The bones of my garden are the same. Same poles, same fence posts, same location. But I no longer dismantle it; I no longer let the garden return to grass every year. I have perennial fruit trees and herbs. I pay helpers to assist me. And now I have foot high edging. I am adapting, slowly, by necessity, to gardening without him.

All in an effort to bear fruit.

There’s a lot of discussion about change in the church. When is change necessary to bear fruit for God and when is it conforming to the world? Jesus was an agent of change. He ate with simmers, broke sabbath laws, and overturned the tables in the temple.

The pharisees and their scribes were complaining to his disciples, saying, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” Jesus answered, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have come to call not the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” Luke 5:30-32.

The established church leaders didn’t like the change. And Jesus didn’t stop at changing the status quo. He sent the Spirit to live within us and change our focus, our attitudes, our actions, and our lives. He takes our established garden and slowly transforms it into a more gracious, more loving, more fruitful place.

Several hundred years ago, women who used herbs to cure ailments were considered witches. Now it’s a multi-million-dollar business. Most Christians have no qualms putting aloe on a burn, drinking chamomile tea to relax, or taking garlic to reduce cholesterol. Some Christians even advocate turning away from established medicine to more homeopathic remedies. They should be grateful the church no longer labels them witches for this.

Is God calling you to make some changes this fall?

Perhaps minor changes like a better edging around your garden space, a more sacred quiet time alone with the Lord, a more intentional effort to keep the litter at bay.

Maybe He is calling you to make a radical change, eat with sinners and social outcasts, try an herbal remedy, go against established church tradition.

I pray that God will always keep me open to the changes He calls me to make. I pray that He will continue to call me, sinner that I am. And I pray that He will bear His fruit in my life and in yours.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Still Growing!

The heat has decimated my tomato plants. They brought me plenty of tomatoes in July, but they are spent now, brown, sagging, and lifeless.

My cucumber plants, however, are still growing, still sprouting flowers, still bearing fruit.

Usually they too are brown, sagging, and lifeless by mid-August. But not this year. Although I can’t know for sure, I think the difference is that this year my creek has flooded – twice in the past six weeks.

Sudden downpours of heavy rain have overrun my little creek’s capacity and sent it across the yard dousing my cucumber plants in fresh water and leaving behind new dirt and nutrients. Far enough away for the current, the flood water in my yard accumulates but flows gently. As much as six inches of water may have flowed across my plants, but they were able to withstand its push.

And now they are bearing flowers, thriving in the warmth, revitalized by the water the storms brought.

Perhaps there is a lesson here.

Flooding can be devastating. We’ve been reminded of that brutally this year. We are reminded of that dramatically every few years. We were all stunned by the photos of farm houses floating down the Missouri and Mississippi rivers in 1993. Nashville saw catastrophic flooding in 2010. More people die from flooding than any other weather-related cause except heat. Flooding is a serious issue; one we should not take lightly.

But not all flooding brings devastation and death. Most floods are less dramatic. Often, we have warnings that heavy rain is coming. We can usually mitigate the damage, get ourselves and our loved ones to safe places, prepare for the storm.

Everyone who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like the wise man who built his house on rock. The rain fell, the floods came. And the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock. Matthew 7:24-25.

My landscape timbers are tied to the garden fence to keep them from floating away. Everything electrical in my garage is elevated above the “normal” flood line. Even my recycling is elevated, which would not be hurt, but it is a mess to clean up if water tips the cans over. And the water has gotten in my garage twice in the past six weeks.

Of course, flooding like what happened in Texas this summer, in North Carolina, what happened in 2010, and what happened in 1993 is beyond what anyone could prepare for. But they are not beyond what we can recover from. The Midwest has recovered. Nashville has recovered. North Carolina is recovering. Texas will recover.

My cucumbers recovered quickly. Thrived even. Healthier after the storm than before it. I find hope in this. When the storms come, and they will come, when the water rises, and it will rise, we can withstand, survive, recover, perhaps even thrive. It may be hard to believe when all you see is devastation. It may even feel insensitive to hope in the face of loss and destruction. But that is when we need hope the most, when we can’t see the reason for it.

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1.

I don’t know what storm you are facing, or what floodwater threatens you today. God knows. He and His Spirit can help you prepare for the onslaught. He can help you withstand, survive, and recover. Perhaps He can even cause you to thrive in the aftermath.

Build on the rock and stand firm.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Figs!

I head out to the garden when the sun is just barely peeking over the treetops before it gets too hot. The humidity still brings sweat to my arms. I carry a bag but there is little to harvest. All but two of my tomato plants have succumbed to age and heat. The cucumber vines still bear small cucumbers and yellow blossoms, the promise of future fruit, but today, my garden seems as battered by the heat as I am.

I pick one cucumber and deadhead my basil. The garlic is not ready to uproot, and the oregano never took root. Despite my efforts to prune my raspberry, it still grows with a fervor that would be impressive if it weren’t inside my garden fence.

Then I arrive at my fig. It is now over six feet tall. I thought I had bought a “patio” fig tree, but now I wonder if I will need to transplant it. Maybe it and the raspberries. Or expand this area of the garden to wider than three feet.

And what are these growths on the stalk? Are these figs?

I read somewhere not to expect figs for three years. These growths are not ready-to-eat figs, but what promise they hold!

My friends who grow figs tell me that while fig trees thrive in most conditions, how much fruit they bear varies widely. One year they will have an abundance of fruit; the next year only a handful. And, in scientific parley, figs aren’t a fruit because they don’t come from a flower. Figs are the flower itself, inverted inward, containing little crunchies which are the fruit. Perhaps that is what makes them more nutritious than many fruits.

But geek-knowledge aside, these little blobs on their little stems mean my fig is moving in the right direction. And who among us doesn’t appreciate a little affirmation that we are moving in the right direction?

Therefore encourage one another and build each other, as indeed you are doing. 1 Thessalonians 5:11.

So, amid heat and lethargy and the lazy days of late summer, my fig tree proclaims the promise of good things to come. Maybe this year, maybe not, but sometime, God willing.

It’s tempting sometimes to become mired in the swamp of today’s dismal offerings. It’s hot. There is much that could be done, maybe even should be done, but there is nothing that must be done today. No one will care if I spend the day reading or binge-watching detective shows. What is the point of expending effort that undoubtably go unnoticed and unappreciated?

But those little baby figs tell me my efforts are not fruitless. Faithfulness in the little things like watering and weeding and tending my garden does not go unnoticed. Faithfulness in doing the laundry, cleaning the house, and preparing dinner is not unappreciated. Reading my Bible daily and spending time in prayer will bear fruit, maybe not today, but maybe sooner than expected.

So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up. So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith. Galatians 6:9-10.

Those little figs encourage me that I will have a harvest, but even if they weren’t there yet, I would have held out hope that they would show when the time was right. God is teaching me patience with these perennials. I’m to give them three years to bear fruit. Perhaps, as per Luke 13:6-9, even longer. Am I that patient with other people? Am I that patient with myself?

Back inside the coolness of my air-conditioned home, I push aside the urge to waste the day in worthless pursuits. There are little tasks to be done. There are responsibilities to uphold. Opportunities for faithfulness abound. There are figs on my tree. The promise of a harvest awaits.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Space to Grow

A friend of mine recently posted how her pumpkin and squash vines were taking over her garden.

Vines will do that. The first year my husband and I planted a garden, we put winter squash, summer squash, and cucumbers in a row with no dividers, no fence, and no trellises. They were everywhere. Twisting among themselves, growing across the yard, bearing fruit in the neighbor’s yard.

My friend says her vines have overpowered the rest of her garden, wrapped around the tomatoes, covered the herbs, choked the daintier flowers. Vines such as squash, cucumber, pumpkin, and zucchini grow horizontally, ever outward in search of new frontiers, boldly going where we would prefer that they not go.

Over the years I’ve learned to plant my vines far from the rest of my plant, surround them with fencing and give them something, anything, to climb on. None of this stops them from sending out tendrils into open spaces to explore beyond my boundaries, but it does slow them down and protect the rest of my garden.

At some point, their inquisitive and enthusiastic spirit will redirect its energies into producing fruit – cucumbers, squash, and pumpkins. If you give them enough space, this will happen before they overtake and overwhelm the rest of your garden.

Don’t you know people like that? At times, I am that person.

To my admittedly limited knowledge, no one has developed a less explorative vine, one that will color inside the lines and that knows its place.

As a gardener, it is my job to give these vines the space to explore without letting them infringe on my more sedate plants.

Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you have received… so that God may be glorified ion all things through Jesus Christ. 1 Peter 4:10-11.

Society today tends to value cooperation, collaboration, consensus, and cohorts. But some people need the opportunity to stretch and explore and seek new spaces. And just as my cucumbers are rarely stopped by my fencing, our efforts to constrain such free spirits rarely works. And maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe God made them that way for a reason, just as He made my cucumber vines.

We can encourage those plants to be more sensitive to the needs of those around them. We can give them space to explore where they are not infringing on others. Hopefully, we will encourage them to grow freely and with abandonment in the space provided while we provide a protected space that nurtures our plants with a quieter spirit.

There is room in my garden for diverse types of plants. There is room in God’s garden for every kind of plant. He created them all. He knows what is best for each one of them, and for each one of us. He is working to create the ideal environment for each of us to bear fruit for His kingdom.

There’s a good chance that my space won’t look the same as yours.

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one, so it is with the body of Christ. But as it is, God arranged the members if the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” On the contrary, the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable. 1 Corinthians 12:12,14,17-18, 21-22.

Good news, my friend. Grow in peace.

Love in Christ, Betsy

Summer Love

You may know it’s summer because the kids are out of school or the Fourth of July is mere days away, but I know it is summer when I have my first tomato sandwich.

Few things compare to the call of a red tomato dangling from its plant. It calls to something deep inside us – Take, eat. For the past few years, the squirrels have been taking and eating, sensing that same call. This year, it’s my turn.

I usually prefer my sandwiches on rye bread, probably Germanic genes expressing themselves, but not for a tomato sandwich. Only white bread will do, a soft and unassuming base to highlight the tang and tart and sweet of the tomato.

Later in the summer when the newness of having tomatoes wear off, I will add basil and fresh mozzarella to my sandwich, but I savor the first tomato sandwich without distractions.

I take a bit and let my taste buds absorb every drop of the tomato’s tang and its salty juices. The tender meat of the tomato fills my mouth and makes my eyes light up. Wow. That is good!

I have been looking forward to this sandwich since I put that little plant in the ground months ago. This sandwich is why I put that plant in the ground. Why I watered it and weeded it and fenced it and draped bird netting over it. All for this sensation.

My brothers and sister, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing. James 1:2-4.

At the risk of being sacrilegious, my friends, enduring the struggle of establishing a garden, tending it, and protecting it from predators has produced joy, this first tomato sandwich, lacking in nothing.

The garden isn’t a perfect metaphor for my walk of faith, but it’s a good one. Too often I focus on the grind of gardening, the daily attention it requires, the myriads of things that can go wrong, the nagging doubt that I am doing it wrong, the constant comparisons to other gardens.

But God calls us to tend our own garden. He promises it will be worth it. He encourages us to stick with it because the tomato sandwich it will generate is priceless.

In fact, the fruit that God promises to produce is so wonderful that any effort we may exert to encourage its growth will be washed away in the sheer joy of tasting the fruit. Every effort is worthwhile; nothing else compares.

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it. Mattthew 13:45.

This tomato sandwich will soon be gone, and I will want another. A self at peace, a content and restful spirit, an open and generous heart, the joy of loving another, these fruits are eternal. These fruits only God can produce in us.

This tomato, like all my tomatoes, is a summer love. Wonderful, exciting, fulfilling, and short-lived.

God wants to grow eternal fruit in me, fruit that I can share with a hungry world, fruit that enlivens our senses and delights our souls.

By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. Galatians 5:22.

He wants to grow that fruit in you as well. It may take a little effort on your part, a commitment to continue when it feels difficult or pointless. But one day that tomato will ripen and you will get to savor His love, and Wow. That is good!

Love in Christ, Betsy

Enthusiasm

I thought my cucumbers were enthusiastic plants, climbing their supports and stretching outside the fence, but they are mild in comparison to this raspberry plant!

In her second year, my raspberry plant has already birthed three new plants in the cracks in the cardboard covering. She is almost six feet tall. I sense I need to cut her back, hem her in, trim off the excess.

I have seen articles and studies on pruning, but I skim right past them. Tomato plants and cucumbers don’t require pruning. Although it’s possible they could be better if I did prune them…

Pruning is an important part of growing perennial plants, but I am new to perennials and have much to learn. Seeing this raspberry bush take over my garden and reach into the yard makes me want to learn. This can’t be best for the plant, best for the berry harvest, or best for me.

And yet, her growth is thrilling. Her enthusiasm for growth is contagious. I want to grow with enthusiasm and burst out all over the place!

My mother used to tamp down my enthusiasm on a regular basis, to the point where I felt like a wild pony trapped in a corral. But she understood. She had been a cheerleader in her youth; enthusiasm runs in my genes. Perhaps she was trying to prune me.

He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit, he prunes to make it bear more fruit. John 15:2.

I am tempted to use this as my guide for how to prune. I am sure Jesus’ listeners at the time knew how to prune; they were grape and olive growers. They were being asked to apply their gardening knowledge to spiritual growth. Perhaps that is what the Holy Spirit would like me to do – learn how to prune this raspberry bush, when and how and to what extent, and apply that knowledge to my spiritual life.

Perhaps the goal should not be excessive growth that spreads out everywhere, but a contained healthy plant that produces much fruit. My smaller tomato plants are covered in green tomatoes, while this huge raspberry produces few berries.

And her uncontained growth is casting a shadow on my fig tree, growing straight and true beside her.

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Philippians 2:3-4.

There’s a chance I, like my raspberry plant, have focused on the wrong thing – expansion verses fruit. There’s the possibility that my naturally enthusiastic self has spread beyond my boundaries and overshadowed another.

The raspberry bush cannot prune herself. It’s as if her enthusiastic nature can’t be contained. And I don’t want to stifle her; I just want her focused more on fruit than expansion. And that will allow my fig tree to flourish as well.

As for pruning my own enthusiasm, Jesus promises that the Holy Spirit will do this if we let him. He will prune us so that we will bear more fruit.

So, I will learn what I need to know about pruning and try to redirect my raspberry plant’s focus. Find the best way to encourage productive growth. Cut out the excess that her enthusiasm has rendered. I need to let the Holy Spirit do the same with me.

When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. John 16:13.

The first thing I need to do is learn. The main thing I need to do is listen. The Master Gardener, the creator of all gardens, the creator of all life, knows what I need to do.

Love in Christ, Betsy