• Dr. Agnes S. Thomas

This reflection centers on another one of my valuable lessons from the garden. In the fall, we prepare our garden for winter. As part of this winterizing project, we cut, prune, and plant bulbs or spread seeds for spring. Much like life, gardening is an exercise in patience, resilience, and careful nurturing. Every cut and every seed planted mirrors human growth and the lessons we learn through hardship and discipline.  It also symbolizes reciprocity in life.

This reflection focuses on observations made and lessons learned after last year’s winterizing project. My gardening partner particularly enjoys this phase more than any other task. However, it’s not one of my favourites, as I often empathize with the plants during the cutting and pruning. Yet, I recognize it’s necessary for their growth.

As usual, the garden was cleaned up, and the grapevine roots were almost unrecognizable—short and stumpy, a stark contrast to the long vines and lush green leaves we had appreciated throughout the summer.  I felt the dogwood had been pruned too severely, but knowing my tendency to criticize anyone who removes even a single leaf, I let it go as one of my pet peeves.

When spring arrived this year, it brought with it the first signs of life from the garden. The grapevines, as expected, took their time to show any growth, often challenging us on our fragile trust and patience in the natural cycle of life. This time, however, it wasn’t the grapevine that worried me but the dogwood, which stood lifeless, with no new sprouts or leaves well into summer. No amount of prodding, extra soil, or water seemed to help; it refused to budge. This led to my grumbling about my partner’s pruning skills.

Around the same time, a few conversations about parenting choices and discipline among family and friends made me reflect on our grapevine and dogwood situation. The grapevine is accustomed to deep cuts, being reduced to its basics each season to prepare for vibrant life the following year. It nurtures its life deep within, ready to bloom again. Two things happen with the grapevine each season: it embraces its role in flourishing and demonstrates the resilience to endure the necessary pruning for a bountiful harvest. It knows its purpose, and anyone tending to it must recognize that pruning is vital for its growth.

In contrast, the dogwood had been pruned too severely, so it couldn’t return to its flowering season on time. It needed an entire season to show any signs of life, let alone produce flowers.

Both plants needed pruning to survive the winter and prepare for their flowering season, but they required different approaches tailored to their unique nature and strength. Only then could they return to their fullness.

The lessons these plants offer are clear. Like humans, each plant is uniquely designed and requires different types of care and experience to reach its full potential. Like plants, we all respond to pain, disappointment, discipline, and criticism with varying levels of resilience. Some wither under life’s hardships and need extra support to recover, while others bounce back with remarkable strength. A few even embrace pain as a catalyst for growth. Although the process is highly individual, we all share a common goal: to bear fruit and contribute to one another in this interconnected existence.

From a human perspective, these lessons on pruning emphasize that discipline is often uncomfortable, even painful. There are seasons of darkness, solitude, and invisibility, yet through these periods, we grow. We are shaped and moulded until we are ready to bear fruit and bring forth the results of our labour.

A second important lesson for gardeners, teachers, parents, and caregivers is to be mindful of each person’s sensitivities and uniqueness in the vast garden of life. Understanding an individual’s capacity to receive discipline, feedback, and care is essential to their self-realization and growth. Comparing a grapevine to a dogwood and treating them the same could harm both. Therefore, we should celebrate each individual’s uniqueness while honouring our shared humanity and collective purpose in this great garden of life.

In the garden, as in life, growth requires attention, patience, and respect for each unique journey. By learning to nurture with care, we help one another bloom.

“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)