It’s a bright sunny spring day here in England. The
daffodils are swaying in the wind – sometimes found in tidy gardens and other
times pickled beautifully along rural hedgerows. They kind of hold a smile and
their bright yellow literally gleams at me and brings such joy. The cherry tree
blossom is in bloom and the magnolias are starting too. The grass is a lush
green and if you’re brave enough to go outside, you’ll feel the harsh cold wind
carrying springtime birdsong. It is pure music to my soul in a season I had not
imagined experiencing for the 9th year in a row. I’d literally
boarded a train 3 weeks ago, heading for London Heathrow, when I saw the news
that COVID-19 cases in the UK had reached over 200, which would mean I’d
automatically get quarantined on arrival in Liberia for 14 days. It was a 3 day
business trip which quickly got cancelled, together with the trips that were
booked for Senegal and then the one that would lead me to Liberia for the next 6
months right after that.
There are so many things to process and the recurring
thought in my mind is: what does it take for the world to stop? I am saddened
at the answer that is in my mind – because I think it seems to only be when
things become personal that we start to care and the alarm bells call us to
stop. I’m sure that’s not the whole truth, but the world hasn’t stopped for the
1000s that are caught up in the horrors of war or for all those with their own
crippling battles that isolate them every day, or for those who die because
they don’t have access to clean drinking water, or to treatment for malaria or
to access to safe surgery. The world hasn’t stopped for the thousands of babies
that get aborted every single day. I’m not saying we shouldn’t be stopping. But
why haven’t we stopped before?
I’m writing as one of the lucky ones. No one I know has been
affected personally and so I have the privilege of pondering without the pain
of loss. I acknowledge that immense gift with deep thanks and my heart breaks
for those who cannot say the same whether that's right now or for many years. Perspective is an interesting thing and as I
consider my own losses in all this, I cannot help but think of those caught up
in lockdown on floor 19 of a tower block where the violence or addiction or abuse now knows
no daylight ceasing and the silent cries of those suffering unimaginable pain.
As life takes on a whole new twist for us all, we are
learning to take one day at a time. In the last weeks, I’ve been pruning apple
trees at mum and dad’s – delayed because the rain of the last months has
prevented anyone getting outside for long enough! The delay means that some of
the tress are already sprouting buds and their tender new leaves are visible
signs of fruit to come. I asked my mum, ‘do I even cut the ones with buds?’. ‘Yes’, she answered, ‘…they need it. It’s good for them’. And
so as I positioned the shears, I boldly chopped away and let the fragile new sprouts
fall to the ground. After all that growing, all that trying, that is it! And so
it got me thinking of this strange season and the pruning we have all been
called to do. No bursting schedules, consumerism curtailed, no personal contact
except for those with whom you live, no driving except for essential journeys,
a feeling of loss of purpose, perhaps. And yet, of course, He always has
purpose.
I’m considering what I need to prune, even the bits that are
showing signs of life – are they really what God has called me to for now? As I
consider the words – ‘it’s good for them’ – I realise I need it too. We need
it. It’s good for us. It makes me wonder what fruit it is I want to grow anyway
and so I ask God to reveal the bits that need cutting away. What do I need to
make space for? Is it the physical or emotional piles of accumulated stuff –
hurt – memories - that need a bit of a prune? Would that make way for more joy,
I wonder.
One of my favourite's
A bike ride away from home
I hope we learn from all this. I hope that we learn to stop
and show some tender care even when it’s not so close to home. I’m really wishing we had stopped before
now.
To those of you who aren’t up for pruning, or have even been
brutally hacked away at already – this question isn’t for you. But for those of
you like me, privileged to be healthy and safe, are you ready to do some
pruning too? I heard a whisper in my heart the other day, ‘come to me for all that
you need’ and I think some pruning will help me do just that.
Love always, KWW
