"I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.
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."
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."
~John 15:1-2
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| One of our community rose bushes. |
Back in January, I was shocked to see that the large, lovely rose bushes outside our community office had been reduced to pathetic-looking stubs. As I am not educated in the ways of gardening, I assumed that this was a travesty. I found out later, from our office manager, that the rose bush branches had been intentionally hacked off. "Oh, that?" He said, "we just had them pruned so that they'll blossom this year. Just wait, you'll see, they will be beautiful come springtime."
Three weeks ago, February 22nd, was a difficult day in my life. That Wednesday was the deadline for all residency applicant rank lists to be submitted for the medical residency Match. The deadline came and went: I chose not to submit my list. It was not that I had fallen out of love with medicine. In fact, after a long season of interviewing, months of prayer and deliberation, I was excited for the next step of my training, thrilled to serve others as a physician. But, as I reflected on what I would miss with my children, in our family life, moments that I couldn't get back, responsibilities that would have to be delegated, I was faced with an unshakable, interior disquiet. My restlessness increased as I realized that I couldn't be a resident and, at the same time, the kind of wife and mother that I want to be. I wanted to have both medicine and motherhood my way, and I couldn't; not right now, anyway. For now, it was time to make a choice. Regardless of the decision, my choice would result in giving up something that I loved, and that would be painful.
So on the day of the deadline, as I passed by those stubby rose bushes on my way to get our mail, my eyes filled with tears. I realized that my life, too, was being pruned in a major way. The Master Gardener had entered the garden of my life with giant loppers, and as much as I wanted to trust His expertise, I resented feeling just as naked as the stubby plants before me.
In his book, God's Power to Change Your Life, author Rick Warren puts it this way:
"Professional pruners will tell you that most people are too timid when it comes to pruning. I used to think that pruning was going in and gently cutting off the little dead pieces. Not so. The live stuff needs to go too - branches, leaves, and flowers....
....Here is my point: most of us think that when God prunes us, he cuts off the sinful and the superficial, the deadwood in our lives. He does do that, but he also cuts off stuff that is alive and successful: a business that is going great, a satisfying relationship, good health. Some of that may get whacked off for greater fruitfulness. It is not just deadwood that goes. God often cuts back good things too, in order to make us healthier. It is not always pleasant, but pruning is absolutely essential for spiritual growth. It is not optional. Remember, God is glorified when we bear "much fruit" (John 15:8), and that requires pruning. We must remember that the loppers are in the hands of our loving God. He knows what he is doing, and he wants the best for us. If you are a Christian, you are going to be pruned. Count on it." ~From God's Power to Change Your Life, by Rick Warren
Today is Match Day, the day when residency assignments for the coming year are revealed. I anticipated for months that today would be a big day for me and my family, and I suppose that it is, but not in the way I expected. Today is a big day because of what is not happening for me, so that so much more can happen for us.
In the weeks since withdrawing from the Match, I have been reminded of how great God's plan is for our lives. He promises in Jeremiah 29:11:
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord,
"plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Do I trust God for this? I am trying. In the days following my decision, I wrestled with real sadness and feelings of regret. T wisely pointed me to the following short film entitled, "My Garden," by former pastor Ed Dobson. The film describes the transformation of his life since the disease ALS ended his formal pastoral ministry. His story helped me understand myself better.
As each of us walks the road of life, our path is often rough and dark. God promises to make the road before us both light and smooth (Isaiah 42:16). I don't know what is ahead, but I know that God's good plans for me are there. I trust that a loving God is holding the shears that just pruned residency from the next year my life.
The kids and I went to get the mail today. We passed by the rose bushes. I would not have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes: the stubby bushes are covered with leaves and buds.
I, too, now pruned, am ready to bloom.
