John 15: 1-2 “I am the true vine and my Father is the gardener.  He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while very branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”

The winter landscape in our garden tends to reveal leggy stems and branches with sparse greenery and even less color. So, since the day after Thanksgiving, Keith has been steadily pruning just about every plant in our garden.  Tree trimmers arrived first and cut back our large eucalyptus trees, as well as the Chinese elm and dense podocarpus trees.  It looked like a bomb had gone off in the backyard when they finished!  Luckily, Keith’s pruning isn’t quite as shocking as that but is equally as effective.  Cutting plants back to a center stalk with a few twiggy branches enables them to grow more lush and full once spring arrives: flowers are larger and more fragrant; the color of leaves more vibrant.  I like to think that the plants become more of their true selves, a better specimen of the plant God intended them to be. I’ve found that many times God, the Master-Gardener, prunes our human lives, as well.

Today, January 1, 2013, I’m thinking about the most severe pruning I ever received in my life.  You see, twenty years ago today I experienced the onset of Multiple Sclerosis, a disease of the central nervous system that pruned away much of my life as I knew it.    I awoke that morning so many years ago, with a severe migraine headache that didn’t respond to pain meds.  After staying in bed for three days the headache finally seemed to be better, but I had this strange numbness when I touched my skin that felt like I was wearing velvet.  I also felt a sharp electrical jolt that went from my neck to my heel when I bent my chin to my chest.  Thinking I’d pinched a nerve from lying in bed for so long I contacted my doctor to see what could be done to fix it.   And so began a journey I never thought I would take, a pruning I hadn’t expected or wanted. 

After months of visits to numerous doctors and lovely tests like MRIs and spinal taps my new-found neurologist, Dr. Jack H. Florin, gave me the news: Transverse Myelitis or possible MS. “Seriously?” I asked.  What the heck did this mean to a single woman, working full time in the banking industry, singing nearly full-time as a solo artist and in a jazz quintet, as well as speaking for church groups about how God provides joy in the midst of trials?  What would happen to my relationship with that new guy I was dating.  I was told there was no way of knowing the answer to those questions and we’d have to just wait and see.  Seriously?

Months went by and more unusual symptoms developed: weakness in my arms and legs, difficulty thinking and expressing my thoughts, not being able to remember things I knew like the back of my hand, fatigue that had a life of it’s own.  More and more of my “normal” life was being pruned away and it seemed I was making adjustments on a daily basis.  

A year after the initial diagnosis came the official diagnosis: relapsing remitting Multiple Sclerosis.  I remember going to the car wash soon after hearing the news and running into one of the pastors from my church.  When he asked how I was doing, I dissolved into tears and told him about the uncertainty of my future and asked, “Why did God allow this to happen to me?  What did I do to deserve this?”  I don’t remember his response, but his kind and caring words brought me comfort and I knew God would indeed help me with whatever I encountered.

After any severe pruning signs of new life and growth are very easy to see. And so it was with me.  Always one to look for the Lord’s purpose and plan in what I experienced, once I’d grieved over the loss of “normalcy” I began to see that He was using this for good in my life.  MS isn’t good – God was using it for good and because of that it was easier to maintain a positive attitude.  I began taking vitamins and supplements (and do to this day) that have helped keep me healthy and relatively strong.  When I needed to use a cane for support as I walked, I didn’t want people to feel sorry for me.  So I started a cane collection with fancy, fun and fantastic canes to divert attention away from me and my disability.  (I think some people were even a little jealous that they didn’t have such special accessories for themselves.)  When I began using my handicap placard for special parking spaces I actually had someone question whether I was “really” disabled, because I looked “too happy”. (But that’s another story for another blog.)

When I finally realized I could no longer work and would have to go on disability I prayed and asked the Lord to show me how it was He wanted me to fill up my time.  Of course, much of it would be spent sleeping and resting, but I knew I needed to feel I had a purpose and to set goals.  Soon after that, the new guy I’d been dating (for three years now) asked me to marry him and live in his home with a big garden waiting to be planned and planted.  I said YES and became a wife to Keith Vaughn and step-mom to his precious 7-year-old son, Kole. I was given opportunities to volunteer more at church, helping to plan and lead worship, as I felt physically able.  I was asked to help those struggling with new diagnoses of MS, taking and making phone calls in order to offer encouragement and hope. And I began sitting in our garden and listening for God’s voice, journaling my thoughts and the lessons I was learning.

In the twenty years that have passed since New Year’s day 1993, that harsh winter with a severe pruning, my life has become more beautiful and rewarding than anything I had ever imagined it would be.  I like to think I’ve become more of my true self, a better specimen of the person God intended me to be.  And only God, the Master-Gardener knew it would take MS to make that happen.

Father, I’m so grateful for the things I’ve learned these past 20 years, especially about Your love and tender care for every detail in my life.  Please help me to continue to trust that You know what’s best for me and that You will use that to shape me into the person You want me to be.  

We have a bulb garden in our backyard.  It’s filled with various flowering bulbs that bloom at different times of the year.  The winter Paperwhites have finished blooming already, as well as their cousins, the Daffodils.  I’m especially fond of the yellow cheery faces of Daffodils, because they remind me of sunshine breaking through clouds on a dreary day. 

Now Asiatic lilies and Easter lilies have poked through the earth, their stalks already reaching two feet in the air.  However, they won’t bloom for another month or two.  Soon the Gladiola will begin to emerge and will flower throughout the summer. Beneath all of these will be mounds of Oxalis, looking like shamrocks with delicate red flowers rising above them.

But today, none of the bulbs are in bloom.  Some are resting, waiting in silent slumber for their time on the stage.  Others have begun reaching up toward the sun, their fresh green stalks growing strong to hold the flowers that will soon burst forth. Still others, having already poured out their annual offering, are gathering strength from the sun through foliage that will remain just a short while longer.  The strength being gathered will provide power for next years’ blossoms, which will come again in their proper season.  Soon the foliage will begin to die, turning brown…a bit unsightly.  Eventually it will need to be cut back, pruned all the way to the ground because it has gone dormant. 

To the untrained eye the plant appears dead.  However, the bulb is merely sleeping, resting, storing up energy. It’s waiting for the time the sun moves to the right position to cause it to grow and bloom once again.  That’s their cycle: grow – bloom – rest.  Grow – bloom – rest.

I think I feel like a bulb.  I’m tired today.  MS fatigue has left me drained…spent…exhausted – feeling I can do nothing but rest…much like a bulb that has just put all of it’s energy into blooming it’s beautiful flower.  Those who aren’t familiar with MS tell me all sorts of things they think will bring me back to life.  However, I know my body has gone dormant and I need to rest.  I need to be fed and nourished and soak up the rays of the sun…the Son.  I need my roots to grow deep in the soil of God’s word.  I need water and rain from the Holy Spirit to refresh and strengthen me for the next season.  When the Son says it’s time, I will bloom again.   But for now I’ll be content with this gift of rest.

Where are you in this cycle?  I hope you allow the Lord to refresh and strengthen you with the nourishment you need, so you, too, can bloom alongside the other bulbs in God’s garden.

Ecclesiastes 3:1  There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven.

The last time it rained here the little birds that frequent our feeders stayed in the shelter of the large trees on our property.  Raindrops splashed all around, but they were safe and dry.  When the sun finally came out, they arrived at their feeding troughs by the dozens – chattering and chirping as they sought  spots on each perch.  They were pretty hungry since they hadn’t been able to eat for most of the day.  And so they ate with abandon – without a care in the world…until…

Another bird hadn’t been able to eat for most of the day, also: the hawk!  And in he swooped, hungrily snatching up an unsuspecting song bird as it sat eating it’s supper – becoming supper itself for this larger bird of prey.

I think there’s a lesson in that.  I’ve noticed that when I’ve gone through a storm in my life and the rain clouds have moved on, I easily return to my regular routine.  Sometimes I forget the lessons that I learned during that time, thinking I won’t have to deal with them again.  Other times I focus so much on what I’ve learned that I feel I have blinders on and don’t notice what is taking place around me.  When I do either of those, my enemy can easily sneak in and snatch me away from that place of focus on God and His way of living.  I get kind of selfish and me-focused; I begin to grumble; I lose my compassion for the needs of others.  Before I know it my peace is gone and I’m miserable – and probably miserable to be around!

I want to make sure this is a lesson I don’t forget.  Regardless of what I encounter in life I want to always be “merciful in action, kindly in heart, humble in mind” (Col 3:12-13, Phillips).  I want to live out my theme for this year and “…run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus” (Heb. 12: 1-2).  With that focus – eyes fixed on Jesus – I’ll be ready to stand firm when the enemy tries to attack.

It’s raining again today. What will your focus be?