Pruning
Why Cut Away at Something Full of Life?
It’s a cozy, quiet, Saturday May evening. The kind with a gentle breeze and a temperature that never climbed above 70° all day. I’m out with the kids and wife. I’ve gone around the block with my son and his new RC car. My wife is resting on a chair due to a combination of pregnancy and a gnarly head cold. The kids have started playing in a sandbox and riding their various little vehicles up and down the sidewalk.
I have the time and space to do something I’ve needed to tackle for weeks. In my garage I grab a pair of hedge shears and stroll to the trees between my sidewalk and the road. Both have branches that hang in the walk path and drag other parts of the tree down unevenly.
As the kids play, I prune. Lopping off branches that simply need to go.
Funny thing, pruning. Most people probably think about chopping off dead branches. Find where the tree is weakest and cut it away so something strong can grow. It’s usually what I think of too.
Same thing with pruning our lives. We look for the sin. Hunt down the spots that don’t seem holy or godly. We find the places in our personal world where there’s dead weight. Slice away at the rot so life and strength can grow.
Though that’s not what I’m doing. The branches I’m cutting away aren’t rotted. Hardly a single one is dried out or dying. Oddly enough, almost every branch I’m cutting is healthy. Leaves have grown. Flowers have bloomed, drenching me with pollen in protest with every cut that jostles the tree. My allegies will not forgive this.
Just because the branches appear to be healthy doesn’t mean they’re ultimately good for the tree. Some branches are weighing down one side of the tree. Others are new growth on the trunk that there is simply no space for. Taking life from the tree that other full branches need too. Others still simply are in the way. They’re healthy, they’re beautiful. But hanging at eye level over a walk path makes them unsafe. Away they all go.
Good pruning takes more than simply removing rot, drought, and death. If I judged the tree solely by the apparent health of its branches, I would let it grow in the wrong ways until it died. I have to have wiser criteria. It’s also wise to know when to stop cutting. I can harm the tree through both reckless growth and aggressive pruning.
The tree grew those branches. It was given those branches. Those branches bore fruit and nourished the ecosystem. Bees congregated in the flowers to be blessed by their pollen. Birds found safety in the shelter given by the tree. Critters cooled off in the shade. All thanks to the tree. Once upon a time, when the tree was young, it needed those branches. Some of them were probably branches the tree sought with years of faithful prayer and thanksgiving. I bet onlookers liked the sight of the branches and what they produced too.
But when the gardener came to prune the tree, those weren’t what ultimately mattered. There was, unfortunately, more at play than what the tree wanted. If it could think, perhaps it would resent me for chopping away limbs it loved so much. Maybe it wonders why I would let a branch grow so much only to rip it away. Does it beg God for an answer as to why he has left it to endure such a fate? I bet it laments the fact that pruning hurts so much.
One by one the limbs fall. Now detached from the tree, they will truly wither and dry up. The branches cannot be left to clutter the yard or sidewalks. What has been cut away must be cleaned up. I finish the work and grab a black yard bag to gather the debris. As I walk away with a full yard waste bag in tow, I can’t help but chew on pruning and what it can look like.
In time, the tree will understand, maybe. Perhaps not the full picture, but enough to keep growing. It will adjust to the new ways it must grow and the tree will be blessed with new branches. Perhaps the remaining branches will bloom to be even fuller and more vibrant than ever before. The wounds will close. Healing will transpire. Growth shall be set in the right directions. Bugs will once again congregate among the flowers and birds will have a place to make their home.
Eventually the shears will come again. Even a saw, should the season require it. The tree may not fully understand why. Though it may protest and suffer, it will also submit and accept. It will endure the pain of pruning for the sake of sustaining life. Better to lose a twig, a branch, or even a full limb than the trunk itself.
Then right growth and health will continue to take shape.
