Monday, July 15, 2019

pruning

Mom used to call it deadheading. I remember she never failed to tend to my plants and hers. The little dead flowers would be pinched away by her gentle fingers. One of a thousand things about which she was right. Plants can’t grow well without pruning. Turns out we are the exact same.

I am not fond of the analogy. I love a blooming pot of geraniums. I am pretty sure my geraniums miss my mom as much as I do. I am terrible at pruning.  I am terrible at being pruned. I am not fond of dispensing with old. I am comfortable in old slippers and sloppy chairs and same old same old. I am constantly reminded a same God is not a static God. He is not content leaving us alone. The loving Father in Him insists on seeing potential in even the most stubborn or stationary of people. 

I love this in Him. I just hate the pain of it. He removes the destruction of sin. He revives the sleepiest of souls. He recovers the most broken of hearts. He rejoices in the beauty within; He sees what we cannot and makes what we cannot imagine.

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