On growth

 

    

The annual reminder popped up on my phone in February: Prune Roses

I looked out the window toward the two young bushes, the bright pink blossoms dotting the stems. I have loved this very tiny bit of color in my very gray back yard. The fragrant fuchsia colored flowers are my favorite. I want to enjoy them just a while longer. I knew the pruning would wait another week, but not more.

Roses have a timetable. Pruning is vital to their ability to grow stronger stems and larger blossoms. I took my tiny garden shears outside and snipped one perfect bud that was about to open, leaving the rest to brighten my view from the back porch for a little longer. "Next week," I promise them. Next week I will make you stronger.

In a moment, a week had passed. Today is the day. Already the days are warmer and shiny new leaves are beginning to grow on the roses. The remaining flowers seem larger than last week, almost as if the roses are saying, "Wait! Don't cut just yet! Look what we can do!". But I have already waited. The deed must be done. Reluctantly I begin by snipping off all the buds and flowers. Four, five, six blooms snipped away. Pink petals from one bush, fuschia from the other, I cradle the petals in my gloved hand. The blooms are nearly spent- they fall apart the moment I touch them. Next I turn to defoliating the plants: stripping off the leaves. Alllllll of them. This will help fresh new leaves grow in just a few weeks. "This is good!" I tell myself. 

But then I see what I had somehow missed before: two tiny, perfect unopened rose buds. How can I cut these off? They haven't even begun to grow! There will be lovely scented roses here soon. Yet I want the bush to be stronger, to be able to make even better blossoms than these. 

I return to snipping again, snipping away the green, leaving bare, brown, thorny stems. I think how Heavenly Father understands this. But it's not the roses, it's me. He sees the potential blossoms I can make. The potential for growth. And he knows that humbling me, pruning back the wild stem here or there, will help me grow stronger. Darn! It's a bit painful as I snip the tiny buds from the stem. I feel like the roses, "Wait! Look what I can do!" I feel the tears; so exposed, so raw. In my mind the lessons expand; I will learn even more if I allow the Master to refine me.  I feel the sun warming me, I want to stretch. I want to grow. The breeze clears the dust from my mind. I am learning to be even better. God is making me so.