When my mom died in 2019, one of the many floral arrangements we received for her funeral was a plant given by a family that our family has known for a long time. I went to high school with one generation, and my parents were friends with them and their two sets of parents.
After the funeral, the plant went to my dad’s room at the nursing home, where the aides who took care of him did their best to keep it alive. When my dad passed away soon thereafter, I brought the plant home and placed it by the wall of windows in my dining room.
It died back quite a bit, but three stalks survived and continued to grow. They got taller and taller, so I repotted the plant in a larger pot, where it continued to grow.
Eventually, it got so big it practically took over the entire corner of the dining room. Not knowing how much taller it was going to get and not sure where else to put it in my house, I asked a few of my siblings if they wanted it.
When they said no, I wasn’t quite sure what to do next.
On one hand, the plant reminded me of my high-school friend. Every time I saw it, it blessed my heart to remember how she and her husband had loved my parents.
I’m usually not inclined to get rid of a perfectly good plant, especially one with sentimental value. But it was just so big. Maybe it really was time to let it go.
Finally, I decided to give it a drastic pruning and see what happened. If it survived, great; if not, that would be OK too.
I got out my garden pruners and lopped off the top two feet or so of each of the three stalks. The plant simply sat there for a long time after that. It showed no signs of distress or decline, but there weren’t any signs of growth, either.
This went on for so long that I wasn’t sure if it was ever going to grow again. I held on to hope that it would, though.
One day, I started noticing some shoots around two of the cut stems. Slowly but surely, these little shoots started to get bigger.
It was fun to see the leaves spring up and take shape, but the lack of progress on the middle stalk puzzled me. Why wasn’t it growing too?
I wanted to help it along. I wondered if cutting it back a bit more would trigger some growth, but I held back.
I knew it wasn’t my job to make the plant grow. It’s my job to take care of it, to water it, to talk to it if I want to. If I truly want it to thrive, however, I have to let nature take its course.
Eventually, the third stalk sprouted some leaves—up by the cut stem and also down near the base, which is something that had never happened before on this particular plant.
I don’t know what took it so long. Perhaps the plant had to heal on the inside somewhere before new growth could appear. I’m just happy it’s doing so well now.
I also can’t help but wonder if, for some of us, 2020 was a year of severe pruning. Just like my plant, we didn’t have a choice about it. (See here for some more thoughts on this.)
What happened last year was thrust upon us, unexpected and unwanted. At times, it was disappointing, painful and heartbreaking. It was—and continues to be for many—exhausting and discouraging.
Like the plant, significant parts of our lives were unceremoniously lopped off, without warning or preparation. But while it’s often been a struggle, most of us are still here.
Our roots may have grayed a bit, and the bags under our eyes may be more pronounced, but what was left after the pruning began is still alive. Somewhere, deep inside, healing is taking place. We don’t know how long it will take or what it will look like, but at some point, new growth will appear.
God’s not finished with us, my friends.
Somehow, all of the events of 2020 are covered by His sovereignty and divine providence. Though we can’t possibly understand it, we can rest in the knowledge that He accomplishes His plans—for us and for the world—with perfect faithfulness. (Isaiah 25:1)
And while it’s hard to be sure of anything these days, the scriptures tell us we can be sure of this: “That He who started a good work in [us] will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 1:6)
♥ Lois
Deep inside, healing is taking place. We don’t know how long it will take or what it will look like, but at some point, new growth will appear. Click To TweetP.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee, Inspire Me Monday, #HeartEncouragement and Grace & Truth.
37 comments
Lois, so many lessons here on life and death, dormancy and re-birth. I love how God specializes in restoring and mending what has been destroyed and broken …
Oh Linda … I’ve seen and experienced His restoration work, and it is beautiful indeed. Hugs, dear friend.
Such a good picture or pruning and growth. Thank you for this friend! Praise God he brings his work to completion, no matter what stagnation we might see at the moment.
Oh, that is for sure, Bethany! Hugs, friend.
Thank you for this reminder!
You’re welcome! 🙂
What a precious story. God’s pruning of us can be painful at times. But it is so very necessary!
I agree, Barb. I’m glad you stopped by this week. 🙂
This is a good analogy, Lois. I appreciated how you summed up last year, “Somehow, all of the events of 2020 are covered by His sovereignty and divine providence. Though we can’t possibly understand it, we can rest in the knowledge that He accomplishes His plans—for us and for the world—with perfect faithfulness. (Isaiah 25:1)”
Thanks for your kind words, Lisa. Have a good weekend!
Philippians 1:6 is the last prayer I pray each morning. It comforts me. I love this story, I have a similar story from a plant I received at my Mom’s passing. Luckily, it was able to be planted outside and survives our harsh winters with amazing resilience. I’m not fond of this latest pruning period, but as a gardener, I trust in the process.
Aw, AnnMarire … I’m so glad the plant you received when your mom passed away is doing so well outside. What a special reminder of the love others had for her. I love the idea of wrapping up your morning prayer time with Philippians 1:6 too. It was good to hear from you this week!
Okay, so first of all, you must have a super green thumb, Lois. 🙂 That plant was huge. More importantly, the lessons you learned and applied to real-life growth really hit home for me. As I navigate some challenges right now, God has had to do some pruning in my life and in my heart. It hurt. But, I hope I’m beginning to see a couple of shoots sprouting in life and relationships. You’re so right, we can be assured that God is working in our lives, and He’ll continue to do so until He brings us home.
Aw, Jeanne … I hear you. I’m sorry for the painful pruning but it’s encouraging to know you’re starting to see some shoots sprouting up. There’s comfort in knowing that God is always working for our good, even when His purposes are hidden from us. Sending you long-distance hugs, my friend.
Lois, like many, I don’t like tossing even a dead plant! I enjoyed the analogy here about growth in our own lives, I am sure glad God does not toss us when we languish in sin or stubbornness to grow, but under His sometimes painful pruning He is patient in lovingly removing the hindrances to our growth. Thank you for blessing me today, Friend!
Oh yes, Donna … I’m glad about that too! I’m a rather hesitant pruner, especially when I haven’t tackled a particular plant before, but God’s pruning is always individualized and, as you point out, done in love. Hugs, friend!
I an houseplant challenged, but from my garden, I know the feeling of waiting for growth and trusting God to do what I cannot.
And I am loving the posts you have put out into the world this year. God is at work in you!
Aw, thank you, Michele. That is very welcome encouragement, my friend. 🙂
Throwing away even a dead plant is hard for me! I always want to give it one last shot. 🙂 I have a plant like that too. It had grown out of proportion, so I finally cut off several limbs last spring (even though I hated to). But it grew back in a much more shapely fashion, which made me very glad I did the pruning. There’s always a great spiritual application from the natural world to the spiritual world. Thanks for sharing this, Lois!
You’re welcome, Lisa! I know what you mean about taking the plunge and cutting off several limbs at once. It takes a bit of gumption, for sure! I’m glad your pruning paid off. 🙂
Either new growth or death. Pruning is always a good, good thing.
Amen, Susan! 🙂
That’s one thing that always comforted me about John 15’s verses about pruning — the truth that something would grow from pruning that wouldn’t grow otherwise. That makes certain losses no less painful, but easier to accept.
Oh yes, Barbara … I feel the same way about God’s pruning in our lives.
“Perhaps the plant had to heal on the inside somewhere before new growth could appear.” There is such a depth of meaning here, Lois. So true. I love your analogy to real life. I had the same experience with a money tree recently. It was getting too big, so I researched on the best way to prune it. Then I was worried I hacked off too much and in the wrong places. It didn’t look good. But now it is thriving with new leaves that keep coming even fuller than before. 🙂 It’s amazing how God uses pruning in our lives, too, though we may feel pretty chopped up and discouraged in the process. Thank you so much for this encouraging insight, my friend! Love and blessings to you!
Trudy, I didn’t know what a money tree was so I looked it up so I could visualize what you were talking about. 🙂 What an interesting plant—I love the way the “trunk” intertwines. I’m so glad your plant is doing so well after you pruned it back. That sort of result gives a little more confidence for next time, don’t you think? And I agree about how God uses pruning in our lives … He knows just what to take out and what to leave in, for the kind of growth He desires to see in us. Love and hugs to you, my friend.
Wonderful story, Lois. Like you, I am reluctant to throw a perfectly good plant away. I still have plants (that are now trees) given to me by my parents decades ago. Just like your pruned plant, we all heal differently. Some of us send out shoots immediately and some take a while. Some send out new growth from our roots and some don’t. I love this reminder of God’s love and faithfulness!
I love how you have expanded on the growth/healing analogy, Laurie. The differences you describe make it all the more important that we resist the temptation to compare ourselves to others, don’t you think? Hugs, friend.
Beautiful Lois, simply beautiful. I read somewhere, I can’t remember where that ” God grows Christians”. He nurtures and feeds us so that we can grow in Him. I love your plant, it surely is lovely. Your words remind me of rebirth and growing upwards toward the Son. Blessings.
That’s a great quote, Paula … “God grows Christians.” He knows exactly what each one of us needs to grow into the person that He intended. That brings comfort during the pruning seasons, doesn’t it? Thanks for your encouraging words, my friend.
This is just as beautiful in its analogy as the plant is in its growth! I want to remember that every pruning my life goes through is for a purpose and future growth. It is never for naught.
So true, Joanne. Thanks for your kind words, my friend!
This is a message I needed to hear, Lois! I’ve been pruned back in a very important area and am hopeful that a new sprout will grow and I will not just survive, but thrive! Thanks for this encouraging word to us all! And, I have to say, what plant would bloom more and more with a gardener whose last name is Flowers? 😉
Wouldn’t bloom, that is!
Aw, Beth … I’m sorry for the pruning you have endured and pray that God will sustain and strengthen you as you wait for new growth to appear. And yes, I think you could say I’ve sort of grown into my last name over the years. 🙂 When I first got married, I had zero gardening experience but now it’s a favorite hobby!
Lois,
Since I’m a gardener, I can always relate to plant analogies. I have felt like your plant — having been pruned drastically. Sometimes, like your plant, we need to be still and gather strength and do some inner healing before outward growth can begin again. Thanks for sharing your wonderful lesson from God’s creation.
Blessings,
Bev xx
I’ve felt like my plant too, Bev. Aren’t you thankful when you can look back and see the purpose in the pruning? I know it doesn’t happen every time, but when it does, I’m glad. 🙂 Hugs, friend.