Staying Connected to the Vine

This afternoon, I sat on the living room couch as Jack played in the backyard. It was a beautifully peaceful day. The weather still has a crispness to the air, one that makes you tell your kids that they should have a jacket on, but you don't make them wear one when they refuse.

 

Jack played in his camo rain boots with the mud caked on the bottom. They are one of my favorite kid accessories. I've always felt that they embody the nature of my outside boys: carefree, dirty, adventurous. Megan has a few pairs of rain boots, too. They're all some variation of pink, flowers, ponies and lady bugs, but they have just as many (if not more) layers of dirt stuck to all sides.

 

And I absolutely love it.

 

As I watched Jack pick up stones, sticks and worms in the backyard, I noticed that the trees are beginning to bud. Tiny green sprouts are emerging from the seemingly dead-looking branches. I think I remember this particular tree next to our deck bearing berries of some sort; my boys collected them last summer like they were nuggets of gold. The big maple tree near the back of our jungle (which is what my boys have always called our backyard) looks like the branches are bare. But upon closer inspection, signs of spring are emerging there as well.

 

Our grass is just starting to look green again from all of the rain. But without that splash of green, as well as the yellow and white daffodils the previous owners planted years ago, our backyard looks kinda dead. Everything is brown. Branches are mostly bare, allowing us to see the buildings behind our house.

 

But it isn't always like that.

In the dead of summer, our backyard is a gorgeous mural of greens and yellows mixed with sunlight. It's when all of the plants feel most alive. Flowers have bloomed, leaves are lush and full, everything is alive. That's the time that I feel most proud to live here. And when my city-born husband seems to be most proud for the acre of lawn he is now responsible for. Even though it is a thousand times more work than when he lived in the city.

Ben (and Jack) in our backyard last July. Making a home for their new frog, which oddly enough, looks a lot like a trap. Our yard is lush and green, definitely the peek of its beauty.

 

God is the artist of all that beauty. But it is a masterpiece that takes time. A whole year, actually.

 

I kept thinking about the verses in the Bible where Jesus compared Himself to a tree.

 

4 "Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch

cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in

the vine, so neither can you unless you abide

in Me. 5 I am the vine, you are the branches;

he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears

much fruit, for apart from Me you can do

nothing. 6 If anyone does not abide in Me,

he is thrown away as a branch and dries up;

and they gather them, and cast them into the

fire and they are burned." John 15:4-6

 

God is the vine, I am the branches.

 

If I stay connected to Him, I will bear fruit. If I choose to disconnect myself, I will no longer bloom and grow for my intended purpose.

 

God is the vine, I am the branches.

 

The vine, trees, flowers, plants... they all have a designated life cycle, gently engineered and orchestrated by our loving, Heavenly Father. He manages the seasons, too.

 

I've always loved the fall - perhaps because of the beginning of a school year and fresh starts - but it also signifies a season of death. When all of nature finishes his life cycle in order to begin again. Everything seems to lay dormant during winter and then slowly, slowly, slowly (and even slower if you live in WNY,) life begins to show. Life emerges from death. And in the summertime, life is at its peak.

 

And as much as we might wish summer never to end, we all know: no one season can last forever.

 

My family is going through a unique season right now. I don't know exactly which one I'd categorize it as, but it's definitely not the fullness of summer. Ben does not have the muscle to walk, adjust his body or hold himself up on the toilet by himself. He cannot always make the quick connections he used to. But just like the winters of WNY, it has lasted longer than anyone even expected it. And better, too. Ben can still count, write and tell a joke. He can still whisper to his sister, knowing she will obey whatever he says. He still remembers his hospital stay, our vacations over the past few summers and gets insanely proud when he poops. His smile and the sparkle in his eyes tell us that he is still here, still fighting. I don't know exactly which season it is, but it's definitely a combination of all four, complete with sadness, joy, death, and hope.

 

Of course, beauty can be seen in all of the seasons. Even in the fall, when we watch nature come to the end of its cycle. But I am so humbled by the fact that God always completes a cycle. He never stops mid-way and makes us live in a forever winter (like I've watched Queen Elsa in "Frozen" do over and over and over and over and over.) He brings buds to the lifeless branches and uses them as food for His creation. He brings good from the bad. Life from death.

 

Those verses above continue to say this:

 

10 "If you keep my commands, you will

remain in my love, just as I have kept

my Father's commands and remain in

his love. 11 I have told you this so that

my joy may be in you and that your joy

may be complete. 16 You did not choose

me, but I chose you and appointed you so

that you might go and bear fruit--fruit that

 will last--and so that whatever you

ask in my name the Father will give you."

John 15:10,11,16

 

God will use us for our good. For His glory. To give us the kind of fruit that will last longer than just one season. Fruit that is sweeter and more rewarding than what we could harvest on our own. Fruit that will not only sustain us, but others as well.

 

We just need to stay connected to the Vine.