New Life

I appreciated the chance to dig up these raspberry canes. Thankfully the ground was nice and soft from the wet winter. It was a little discouraging when I began, because most of them looked sadly unsave-able from neglect. I regretted the time I let pass without giving them any attention. The job would certainly have been a lot less painful if I had been diligent keeping my hands to the plow. Or hoe.

It wasn’t too bad. The fresh air was brisk, and the sun poked through the canopy overhead. And my friend Jesus was there, teaching me. As much as I *knew* about cutting back old canes to make room for new, I didn’t *understand* it until I began pulling up the roots. Two canes, same root. One is sickly and spent, the other a merciful second chance but hindered by its roommate.

Which was the good cane? Why, the one on the left, the one with the promise of spring, loaded into the buds. The other was a fake, just an empty shell with dried up bud scabs. It sure looked great, though, all those straight canes in the bed, looking so full and healthy. I let myself believe it to avoid the clean up job. Even the lack of fruit didn’t sway me. I was flippant. I bought berries last summer from the store instead.

I was sorry for it, but instead of staying in the mire, I took to digging, pulling, pruning, planting. I asked my husband for help, and he built boundaries for my canes. I didn’t think I’d have enough canes even for one half of a small row, but God multiplied my efforts and gave me two full rows with some to spare. Repentance does that.

I’m not sure the Lord will bless me with raspberries this year. But what I learned in the process was far more sweet. Jesus loves me enough not to leave me as I am; I ought to love Him enough to allow Him to change me.

With gratitude,