O N E

While at a party I wandered into the host's vineyard and was captured by the beautiful and speedy spring growth of the vines. I was witness to their first spurt up into the air, reaching for the light, before the vine dresser decided what he would do with them. I knew some of them would be pruned away and discarded. Others would be gently tied down, trained to grow in the place that would support and shade the main fruit-bearing vines.  It was cool to see them in this wild stage of growth, yet I was reminded that lots of wild green growth and activity may produce fruit but not perfection.  Only proper, tender pruning and training by the master vine dresser would bring about one desired result: perfectly sweet and desirable fruit ready for use.

In that moment of the setting sun, surrounded by the lush green growth I wondered if my life often looked liked this: lots of immature activity that looked good and fresh and busy, yet needing some tender pruning. Because all that vine activity and growth is worthless if it produces mediocre results. And might I recognize the pruning when it comes? Will I realize that the pruning and training is only done for the greater purpose of producing something fruitfully far better in me than I could have ever imagined? It is so much easier to understand this when I see it played out in the life of the young grape vine. Yet, why is it so difficult to surrender to when it is my own life?