Winter is beginning to wind down here, and it’s the time when pruning needs to be well underway. The blueberry buds are already emerging! Just a fleeting look at our scraggly shrubs makes it clear they need tending. I actually enjoy pruning…probably because I like things tidied up, and I get the immediate gratification of seeing some improvement in their appearance. It must give me a little boost of serotonin.
I also view it as an artsy endeavor. I’m making something more beautiful in its form and in its ability to produce. But I don’t care much for the weather that accompanies this winter pruning—it’s wet and chilly most days in February. I’ve gotten a start though, taking advantage of the warmer days we’ve had this particular February.
Some years I’ve neglected pruning for one reason or another, but because the results are wonderful when I do prune, I decided to create a calendar to remind me of when our plants need it. Pruning is done in different seasons depending on whether the plant blooms on old growth or new growth. Although many of the basics are the same, there are also some differences in how to prune different plants. After a little research I incorporated some basic instructions in the calendar along with some links. In our yard right now the limelight hydrangea, abelia, holly, ligustrum, rose of Sharon and blueberry plants need pruning. But the gardenia, azalea, Indian hawthorn, camellia, and other hydrangeas should be done in another season. If you aren’t sure about your plants, ask a local nursery or research online.
Another reason I like pruning is because like art, it’s a meditative practice. It’s a deliberate and purposeful process that brings me into the moment. As I was trimming our rose of Sharon a few weeks ago, I imagined the way it was going to look during the summer as a result. I remembered its growth last year and wondered how to remove what was not really needed for how I envision it this year.
I was careful to make diagonal cuts. Is this the right place or should I do it here? How much should I remove on this one? I took out the extraneous branches growing up from the bottom, which were those rubbing against other branches, or crowding them, or just looking unseemly. I evaluated more branches to learn how they had responded to last year’s trimming.
While pruning the limelight hydrangeas, I recalled how the number of branches can impact the size of those big flowers. Fewer branches mean larger flowers. Did I want more blooms and smaller flowers or fewer blooms and larger flowers? How many branches do I need to remove to produce the larger flowered ones?
We have one blueberry bush, and I feel especially tentative about pruning it. I’m concerned I might make it less productive instead of more. Which canes should I remove?
I love the blossoms and the berries! I think I just need more bushes!
As I tended our plants, I came to know them better. Through touching and examining them, surveying their health, seeking out what might interfere with their flourishing, and envisioning their potential growth and beauty, I felt a connection with them as well as a deepened affection.
Handling my plants in this way gave me a new perspective on pruning. I think I understand more clearly how our heavenly Father goes about His pruning in our lives. It also highlighted tendencies and conditions in my life for which pruning is to my profit.
He’s not just cutting away, He’s tending us. Like my hands moving about in the crown of our shrubs, His hands move with care and intention in and throughout our lives. He assesses us affectionately, and with intimate knowledge, He determines how to make us more fruitful and more beautiful. He knows where we’re hardened, the woody old stuff that needs to go. He sees those places in us where there’s a constant rub, a chafing or irritation—those things that open us to attack or distract us from our purpose. He identifies the spindly, non-productive sprouts that crowd out the energy and air that other endeavors need. He finds our sideshoots, those that take away from our beauty and rebel against His design. He tenderly notes where we’ve been injured and where more light needs to penetrate. He discerns the strong healthy branches and knows how to make them more productive (John 15:2).
His pruning will show off His touch in our lives (John 15:8-9).
This lesson in how and why He prunes has been a useful countermeasure in neutralizing the apprehension I felt about “being pruned.” Have you felt that apprehension as well?
What about when He prunes? In her article, “The Gift of Continual Pruning,” Linnea Orians makes a heartening point. She tells about observing the pruning of apple trees on a nearby farm. From her close vantage point, it is apparent that pruning is not just a one time or even occasional event, but a recurring process. She says our “weaknesses have to be revisited and continually cared for.” Yes, under His care it becomes our way of life. Orians continues, “Abiding in him so that he can tend to my imperfections is a gift. There is immense mercy shown in trimming what can be fruitful, instead of disregarding it. It is care to the highest extent.”
I’m grateful for His gift of new perspective (Psalm 16:7-8). He has helped me see my need and focus on His faithful care. His pruning is quite likely an answer to my own prayers (2 Thessalonians 1:11). I am convinced that I prefer He tend rather than neglect—and even in this, a flaw in my thinking has been pruned away.
For the LORD is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations (Psalm 100:5).
If you enjoyed this post I recommend a previous post, Three Lessons from the Field, which includes other comforting reassurances from Jesus’s metaphor, “You are God’s field (1 Corinthians 3:9).