Are you cut off or being pruned?

                To me, the very novice landscaper, those terms mean exactly the same thing.  I remember a few years ago the first and only time I was allowed to use a yard tool- the hedge trimmers. 

                My mission: the side yard.

                I was supposed to gently prune the shrubs into shape.  The yaupons, compacta holly, Indian Hawthorn, and gardenia lined up before me like rows of green sheep ready to be shorn.  I was a bit daunted by the task but like most new things I encounter, I was up for the challenge.

                I eagerly approached that first little yaupon.  It was so round and compact, close to the ground like a bushy green afro.  With trimmers in hand, I imitated the motion I had been instructed to use- kind of a gentle sweeping arc over the top.

                In theory, I’m sure that would have worked with an experienced user at the helm.  However, when those ravenous, little trimmer teeth grabbed a hold of the branches, millions of shredded leaves and bits of twig went flying everywhere.  Then I understood the allure of the power tool.  What instant gratification!  And I have to say, “What a rush!”  Instantly, the yaupon was transformed.  Was it for the better? No, probably not.  Anyhow, I finished off that one and moved on.  Zealously, I encountered the next one… several ninja-style sweeping arcs later- another “masterpiece”.  I was thrilled!  In fact, I was able to move through that side bed leaving waves of green in my wake in a third of the time it would/should take an experienced landscaper.  I was so proud of my work.

                However, the part owner of the yard and tool was not.  I was proudly surveying all my handiwork when I heard a gasp from behind me.  “OH MY GOSH JENN!  WHAT IN THE WORLD HAVE YOU DONE?!?  YOU HAVE KILLED ALL OF OUR SHRUBS!!!”  I’m sure you can imagine my surprise at this reaction.  Then I received a heated, fervent discussion on the evils of cutting back too much.  In other words, what I did must not have been pruning and probably just killed hundreds of dollars worth of perfectly good shrubs.

                Admittedly, that summer the side yard was not the crown jewel of the neighborhood.  It was truly an eyesore.  Ugly, little misshapen blobs of green… A few months later, the shrubs looked a tad bit better but still a little off.

                Well, fast forward to the next summer…  Guess what!  The shrubs needed pruning again.  In fact, you couldn’t even tell that any butchering had ever occurred.  In my opinion and the opinion of a few supportive friends, they even looked healthier than years past.

                Hmm… I’m not a master gardener by any means but could this example of my pruning parallel the 2^nd verse in chapter 15 in the book of John?  This is where we find Jesus talking to His disciples about being the true vine and the Father being the vinedresser.   Verse 2 says, “He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit He prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”

                What does all that actually mean?  Since I obviously had a very remedial understanding of pruning, I decided to Google it and this is what I found.  “Pruning involves the selective removal of specific plant parts for the benefit of the entire plant.  Pruning should be viewed as a regular part of maintenance rather than as a remedial correction of neglected problems.  Pruning to maintain plant health includes the elimination of dead, dying, or diseased wood.  A dying branch or stub can be an entry point for insects or diseases that could spread to other parts of the plant.”  So, in my very simplistic understanding of these verses, I realize that as a child of God and a branch of my Savior, I will be pruned.  What does pruning look like in my life?  Could it be possibly an unexpected change in my job, my health, my marriage, my finances, my relationships, or my family…?  The list goes on.  At times, we may not really like or appreciate the pruning process but just think of how we can be so much more like Christ in the end.  Thankfully, the Master Gardener that does my pruning does not approach it with the zeal of a Ninja warrior like I did.  He does not hack away needlessly just to feel the rush of watching the pieces fall where they may.  He knows exactly which parts to take off.  He sees the big picture.  In the end, I will be better and most importantly, He will be glorified.

                So today, I challenge you to try a different perspective on your situation.  Try to see what pruning is going on in your life and most importantly thank your Gardener.

Specks, Planks, Cell Phones and Teenage Sons...or...Lessons Learned From my Child

What is it they say about parenting?  The toughest job you’ll ever love?  Wait, no… that’s the army right?  Actually, maybe there is a little similarity between the two.  Anyhow, back to the topic.

                God has blessed me immeasurably with 3 sons.  I count them as the greatest gifts He’s shared with me, second to my salvation.  I’m still amazed at the fact that He chose me to be their mother.  I’m not going to kid you.  Being a single mother to rambunctious boys is not without its challenges.  I am learning to take things with a grain of salt and not major in the minors so much.  The question “Is this the hill you want to die on?” is always in my mind in picking my battles.  For example, when I discovered a cup full of frozen ladybugs in my freezer, I didn’t freak out.  The 2 youngest were apparently experimenting in cryogenics.  Also, when the strange smell was coming from their bathroom, I didn’t go ballistic when I found a plastic cup of moldy squished grapes in the back of the linen closet.  The middle child explained that he was trying to make wine. (No clue where that idea came from)  Additionally, the night that the two youngest decided to dump an entire bottle of shampoo into the bathtub and then turn on the jets, I didn’t scream once when the mountain of bubbles was taller than me and I had to wade through the suds to find them.  Even now, I can laugh at their antics.  I absolutely adore my sons.  Every day with them is a blessing and definitely a learning experience.

                Lately, I’m realizing that God also teaches me a lot about my relationship with Him through my relationship with my boys.  Of course, I’m too grown up to make huge messes with soap or freeze ladybugs but there are plenty of other things I do that could stand some correction.  I realized one area of this when dealing with the firstborn. 

                (Let me start my story with a little bit of info on the front end.  I’m not sure of your area of experience with teenagers, but you know all those warnings that well-meaning people give you?  Heed them.  Truly I think something happens to their brains at about 12 and a half years of age.  I also think that God makes them so cute and cuddly as babies so we’ll remember that when they turn into teenagers.  It’s that stored up love that keeps you going some days.)

                When Firstborn was graduating from the 5^th grade, I decided it was time to get him a cell phone.  It made sense.  He’d be going to middle school the next year and I would like for him to have a phone to call me in case he missed his ride home or if his baseball practice ended early.  Also, it would be useful for us to stay in contact when he and the brothers were gone to their dad’s house on the weekends.   Truly, I viewed it as a safety precaution. 

With that cell phone, came a series of rules.  I’ll just state the first and most important one… if I was trying to get in touch with him, he’d better answer or reply to my text.  After we agreed to the rules, he also was made aware of the consequences of breaking the rules- no phone.   The first six months of cell phone ownership went rather smoothly.   The rules were followed.  He even offered to let me see his texts and let me know before he deleted anything.  His attitude was very gracious.  During the middle of the sixth grade things began to change.  I think it started with a girl.  (Doesn’t it always?)  I noticed Firstborn was getting texts all the time.  The phone was constantly chirping.  The “no texting during dinner rule” was instated.  That rule was followed by the “cell phone turned off at 10:00 rule.”  The addition of rules was accompanied by subtle eye-rolling. (That drives me crazy.  Again… deep breath.  Is this the hill I want to die on?)  All in all, the rest of the cell phone situation went along well for the most part.

However, one weekend the boys were at their dad’s.  (They go every other weekend.  I’m not one of those mothers who need to talk to them every day they are gone.  I try to respect their time with him and not intrude.   I do however text them good night and tell them that I love them.)  And on this weekend in particular when I texted my typical “good night I love you, tell the brothers” text, I did not receive a reply.  So I texted their dad to see if there was a problem and he had Firstborn reply.  The next weekend away, the same thing happened.  I didn’t text their dad this time.  I was feeling very angry and a little hurt.  I mean seriously, I gave this kid life.  I bought his cell phone.  Who does he think he is?  The pity party was well celebrated that night.  I worked myself into quite a snotty mess.

When the boys got home that Sunday night, I decided not to address it.  They were happy to be home and tired so we just did our Sunday Night Snuggle on my bed watching TV.  Well, the next morning while Firstborn was in the shower I decided to peruse his texts.  I noticed that he had over a hundred texts from his Sweet Patootie and that he’d replied to all of her texts during the same time I’d texted him.  Talk about seeing red!  I was seething with anger.  I started mentally rehearsing my attack.  I had all the words just ready to spew like venom from my mouth when he got out of the shower.  They were along the lines of this: “Seriously, who do you think you are?” “I’ve sacrificed everything for you and this is how you repay me?” “Is Sweet Patootie more important than your mother?” “I brought you into this world and I can take you out.” “I gave you this means of communication and you don’t even communicate with me?”  I’m sure you get the picture.  And this is where God stepped in…

I heard Him through His Holy Spirit addressing the questions to me.  “Who do you think you are?” “Who do you think I am?”  “I died for you.”  “Is anything in your life more important than Me?”  “I gave you the right to be my daughter.  I gave you life.  How often do you talk to Me?”  What an incredibly humbling experience.  I am so thankful that He loves me enough to teach me about parenting from His perspective.  Needless to say, my well-planned verbal attack didn’t go as I’d planned.  I learned instead to share some of the grace I’d been given.  Was the problem addressed?  Yes, but with an attitude of grace and mercy.  Honestly, it was better received than my verbal venom would have been.

I was gently reminded of a verse found in Matthew 7 “…how can you say…, ‘Let me remove the speck from your eye’; and look, a plank is in your own eye?”  I’ve read that passage numerous times but never has it hit home quite like it did when dealing with my own child.  Without fail, I have only applied that verse to adults.  Incorrectly, I’ve always assumed that my children were exempt from that.  After all, aren’t I to mold them into responsible human beings?  Isn’t my way how it should be done?  Instead, how much more authentic will my parenting be if I am honest and approach them with the same genuine love my heavenly Father gives to me?  I am so thankful to the Lord for teaching me tenderly, and in enough time to be able to glean from His teaching and grace to use it in my own parenting.

"Which Way Do I Go Now? Where's That Road Sign?"

       Okay, true confession time again…I have no sense of direction.  Nope, none at all.  My lack of that gift has been the source of family jokes for years.  “Jenn can’t get from one place to another unless she goes home first. Ha! Ha!”  “Sissy, why didn’t you notice before you made it to Jackson that you were going the wrong way?”  “Honey, seriously.... the Byron exit again?”  In other words, my lack of a sense of direction is legendary.

        Being fully aware of my limits, this past summer, my dad let me borrow his GPS to go on my first beach trip as a single mom and principle driver.  Even with Alice, the name my dad gave to his GPS, directing my path, I got lost on the way home.  A five hour trip turned into an eight hour nightmare.  The boys are still talking about it!

       Since that most recent mishap with direction I’ve done some thinking about how I got so lost, and I know exactly where I went wrong.  I listened to the advice of someone else instead of Alice the GPS expert.  Now before you start to mentally bash that someone or me for taking his advice, let’s consider him.   He has traveled that same route many times before and knew how to direct me home.  He was well-meaning and had no malicious intent.  He could even tell me landmarks along the way.  However, what he didn’t consider was the day I was traveling on and from exactly which part of Myrtle Beach I would be leaving.  In other words, he wasn’t exactly with me in the car, at that time, at that point in my life.  Of course hindsight being 20/20, I should have followed Alice.  In fact, she kept saying…”Make a left turn now.  Make a U-turn now.  Turn around now…”  She warned me in every way possible, until I hit her mute button, that I was headed the wrong way.  Actually, it wasn’t so much that it was the wrong way as it was not the best way.  I knew the whole time we would eventually get home.  I just wasn’t sure what would happen along the way or even when we would arrive. 

       How many times does this happen to you?  Granted, there’s probably no one in this room that has as poor a sense of direction as mine.  But have you ever been in a situation where you just really did not know where to turn?  I’m not talking about a question of right and wrong.  I’m talking about a question of good or best.  A friend of mine once told me that good is the opposite of best when it comes to your life.  In the light of “best”, “good” leads to resentment and discontent, and nothing compares to God’s best for you.

       Recently in my life, I’ve been faced with a series of difficult decisions to make.  I’ve gone to Christian counselors, pastors, godly friends and family in search of direction and come up with a mixed bag of answers.  I’ve come to realize that in my situation, I will not get a unified answer from my collective pool of very godly counsel.  Does that mean that any of these people are wrong?  I don’t know.  Does that mean that any of these people are right?  I don’t know that either.  But this one thing I do know…for the past several weeks in more than a handful of different situations I’ve run into the same verse…Jeremiah 33:3 “Call to Me and I will tell you great and unsearchable things that you do not know.”  So, many times since the revelation that my Heavenly Father wants me to ask only Him for my answers, I’ve done that.  I’ve had a lot of “carpet moments.”  You know…face down in the floor because you can’t get any lower before a Holy God, begging, crying, and pleading for answers.  And I’ve got to tell you, I’ve heard nothing in terms of direction.  What I have heard is “Be still”, “I am with you.” And “I’m working on your behalf right now.”  This has been going on for a while now.

       So what do you and I do when we can’t put our cars in park and we have to keep driving because the earth is still spinning?  Life remains in constant motion and so must we.   What do we do?

       Well for me, the Holy Spirit started tweaking my prayers.  I haven’t been praying for the big picture as much.  No longer do I focus on “my” intended destination but on the route God wants me to take.  The focus of my prayers has changed to a smaller scale in terms of direction.  I’ve begun to pray Psalms 25:4, “Show me Your ways O Lord, and teach me Your paths.”  For me, praying so much about my intended destination easily mutates into anxiety and worry and I don’t even want to go there.

       Being me, in other words exhaustingly analytical, I started to ask…”Well, how do I know when I’m on Your best path Lord?”  “What if I’m driving the wrong way again?”  Blessedly, He answered me through His word in Isaiah 55:12…”You will indeed go out with joy and be peacefully guided…”  To me that says that when I’m on the path that the Lord sets before me, I will be guided with His peace and no matter what the road conditions are, I will be joyful.

       Let me tell you how God braided those three truths together for me- In my life, with its present circumstances, only God can tell me the best path to take.  Friends and family may have traveled the same road before and I shouldn’t disregard them but no one but God is on the exact same road, at the exact same time, inside the exact same me.  His voice alone is the One to consider.

       Next, daily I have to pray that He will show me the steps to take on that day.  Lastly, I have to …”indeed, go out.”  In other words, I have to keep driving forward.  If I have called out to God for answers, and if I have prayed for Him to show me His path, then I know I can go out with joy and be guided by His peace.

       At the risk of sounding trite and a bit like a small church sign, I am equipped with my own GPS- God’s Positioning System.  And like Alice, Dad’s GPS, He will let me know if I make a wrong turn because He’s even more concerned with my destination than I am.  So today I encourage you, don’t hit the mute button on your GPS.