Tonight I’m coming to you with a word about the necessary pain of pruning.  There are so many seasons and while I would like to be in a harvest season, instead it seems like the Lord is pruning me again.

I was on a walk with a friend and I noticed a large tree that had been pruned. One of the spots where a branch had been cutoff  left a little heart in the side of the tree and I was reminded of the pain of pruning.

I’m no master gardener but I know that pruning is necessary to get the right kind of growth.  If you have too many branches, a tree or a plant might not bear any fruit at all because the energy is sucked up by the branches.

Recently my friend and mentor Mrs H was abruptly cut out of my life. This isn’t the first time this has happened but I have the feeling it will be the last, she is eighty eight years old now.

Mrs H has known me since I was two and after my Mom died she kind of became my whole world.  Another way to say it would be that she became my primary attachment. The funny thing is that I don’t think she realized just how attached I was…and am.

After my mom died Mrs H bought my mom’s bunt cake pan at the estate sale and that was the pan she used every Sunday to make the same cinnamon coffee cake my Mom made when she was alive.

Mrs H was the woman who took me to church  every Sunday. For seven years she picked me up at the children’s home. Then she would drive me and my sister and brother back to her house for coffee cake and orange juice.

After church we would meet in the fellowship hall and it was Mrs. H that I would be looking for in that room full of people.  When my eyes connected with hers I naturally gravitated to where she was.

When I was tired during the church service sometimes I would lay down in the pew. She would let me rest my head in her lap and she would stroke my hair.

Before my Mom passed away I received a lot of hugs, snuggles and love. But when she died I lost all that. Then when Mrs H stepped in I would once a week see a person who I knew loved me. It was only a few hours but it was very special.

We went through the natural progression that many parents go through with their teenagers in high school. She called it a God given angst. It’s that natural irritation and separation that happens when it’s time for a child to grow.

Mrs H was the person who called me to tell me I couldn’t  live in sin with my boyfriend when I was seventeen. She was the one who challenged my wardrobe choices in my twenties.

She is the voice in my head saying, “You’re doing a good job! I’m so proud of you! Your Mother would be proud!”

When my life fell apart it was Mrs H that consistently answered the phone time and again. I understood that her listening meant that she was always going to tell me what she thought. She liked to point out that her advice was free.

We didn’t always see eye to eye. But I learned that I could tell her anything and I did. I told her things that I have only ever told to God.

She laughed with me. She prayed for me.  She listened to me and even when we didn’t agree I knew that she was one of my biggest cheer leaders.

I have always struggled with feeling loved and there were times that her words hurt. Sometimes the pain was because of my immaturity and lack of perspective.  Other times, I had pain because she was not an easy person for me to level up with. I mean if she thought she was right, I could forget it!

God had to separate us a few times just so I could grow up. The last time we separated was excruciating and came with no warning. One day she said she couldn’t take my phone calls anymore and that was that. She didn’t.

In her absence I noticed a had a baton in my hand and it was like oh…I guess it’s time for me to run my race.

Later on I learned that she went through some health issues.  Just before we stopped talking  God put it on my heart to give her a holding cross, but I didn’t listen.

I was afraid that God was going to take her home to heaven. So I didn’t follow the prompting. I’m embarrassed to say I gave the cross to someone else.

When Covid happened I went straight to her house and stood in her front yard as if I was summoned there. Covid did something strange for me. It took me back to places of trauma. Covid felt eerily like the season when I lost my entire family.

Mrs H says my Uncles agonized over where to put me and my siblings. She’s probably right.  Irregardless, I did ultimately end up alone. Mom died, my Dad was in Washington, my grandparents were sent to a nursing home in St Louis and my siblings lived in different houses. (The Bible app on my phone just popped up a notification for me to continue my Bible study on healing from rejection. God doesn’t miss a beat!)

Over the last few years I have enjoyed connecting with Mrs H again. We did some catching up and it was a very precious season.

I like to woodwork and making Purple Heart crosses. 

I was able to finally obey the Lord and give her one. I also made her a felted heart. There was a season that God seemed to be pulling not just Mrs H away,  but pretty much everything and everyone except for himself. It was during that time when I started carrying a cross in my pocket as a tangible reminder that I’m not alone. I have God.

I also started carrying a felted heart in my pocket.  God gave me a special experience and story one day where he used a teddy bear with a felted heart to show me that He heals broken hearts. Healing is part of the atonement of Jesus Christ.

Today I’m grieving.  Mrs H is older now. She took the time and energy to explain to me that she just doesn’t have it in her to be answering the phone anymore. She says it’s time for me to go comfort people with the same kind of comfort that I received.

I don’t really know how much time she has. I’ve noticed that some people get private near the end of life.  It looks like we are walking the path to the final goodbye until we meet in heaven.

I have been skimmed down to text messages and I feel like revolting. In my younger days I probably would have. But I respect her so much and I would never want to distress her.

I have a slew of stories she sent me. When her grandchildren were little she used to record herself reading stories from the library. I’m talking whole chapter books.  Then she would send them to her grandchildren who lived far away.

At some point she copied them all to cd’s and my kids got the original cassette tapes. I saw this little recordable book the other day and it reminded me of Mrs H. My kids called her Gomma. They used to write letters back and forth and she would send them stickers.  She is an absolutely amazing women.

I could go on and on about the way she touched my life and every member of my whole family. She met my Mom at a family camp and she said that whatever happened with my Mom and Dad, it was pretty bad. She said my Mom left with us and only the clothes on our backs, she even left the dog.

God gives us people to help us through difficult times. My Mom and Mrs H were really good friends. I am so thankful for the seasons I have shared with Mrs H.

It should be interesting to see how God works this brokenness out because I do not feel ready to let go. I will honor and trust the process because God knows best and because he promises to bring good out of all circumstances for those of us who love him and are called according to his purposes.

I am feeling broken today but I will not always feel this way. The only thing that will matter a hundred years from now is if we have been saved and redeemed and used our influence to preach the Good News!

He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. John 15:2

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who^[a]have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18