Pruning----part 2

It's late summer.  It's the time when things begin to change, and the things that spring had birthed, and long-lighted days had grown, begin to go into another phase. It seems as though this change always involves a surrender of some sort.

Surrendering can be painful, especially if it is something that is deeply loved that we must let go.  Surrendering can be like pruning.  Sometimes there are things that give us no choice but to let go of those things we continue to hold on to so tightly.  Time moves forward without any hesitation.  It doesn't stand still to give us a chance to release things ourselves, it steadily moves on, taking things with it, leaving a bit of sorrow in its wake. Time can pluck the blossoms right from our hearts, and it hurts even though the blossoms have changed.....and maybe even have died.

I pace the length of the porch trying to rid myself of the empty feeling I have inside.  "What will I do without them?  What will I do without her?  Why do things have to change?" My head tells me that there is a time for all things under heaven, but my heart asks time to stand still......and maybe even rewind so I can see her one more time.....so I can hear her voice and see her smile one more time.....so I can wrap my arms around her and just hold on for awhile.

 The kids leave at the end of summer, and my precious friend passed in the month of September, and for reasons beyond my control, I cannot get past the reoccurring sadness that always overcomes me this time of year.

Did she have to go now?  Couldn't we have just held her a little longer? Again, my heart feels such a tug.

My last chick pulls out of the driveway to go back to college.  I hold back tears until I get into the house and then stand by the window and watch her go away.  Memories flash of seeing my dear friend take her last breath as she went away.  I hate good-byes. Before my friend passed, she said we shouldn't say, "good-bye" we should only say, "I Love You".

 I Love you.

  The African Violet sits on the table next to where I am standing.  I absent-mindedly reach down and give the flower stem a snap and a tug and I pull the partially spent blossom away from the plant, leaving emptiness. Even without the pretty purple flowers, the plant is healthy and green.  It is strong and it has potential for new growth..  I know that this pruning is necessary in order to once again see the flourish of color.

Emptyness fills me as I hear the clock tick-tick-ticking.  I  feel the painful plucking and the tears fall.  But the heart is strong and there is potential--- even in the pruning.  Potential for new growth----new color. Oh Lord, please give me patience in the waiting, hope in the loneliness, and comfort in the sadness.