The Vineyard

So I kind of, sort of, wrote a short story. I guess it's come out of what I've been learning lately with God pruning me to produce better fruit in my life. It hasn't been easy, in fact it's hurt having him pull me out of things I was so entangled in, even when they seemed like such good things. But I know that this will produce the sweetest fruit if I allow him to fully cultivate me into the woman he desires for me to be. I call it The Vineyard.

The Vineyard.

The door creaked open as the silhouette of a shadow shone through the dimly lit hallway. “Time to wake up, beloved,” a old man whispered to my still sleeping mind. “7 more minutes” I lazily told him. He chuckled, a laugh that was drenched in life and love. “If we wait any longer, you’ll miss your own surprise.” The suggestion teased at my slowly waking mind, and I bounded out of bed. “Give me 5 minutes.” I told him. The same laugh echoed through the hallway as his boots pounded down the stairs. I quickly pulled on my dad’s old sweater and a pair of jeans. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I needed to feel as comfortable as I could today. I quickly glanced in the mirror, only to frown with the same frown that found my face every day when I looked at the reflecting glass. “Not much of beauty again today, are you?” I tugged at my normal brown hair, looked down my slightly larger nose, and stared at my green-blue eyes that never seemed big enough. “Are you coming, Beloved?,” the old man called from the bottom of the stairs. “Yep.” Another sigh into the mirror and I walked slowly to the door, closing my mind off to all the negative thoughts inside my head that would wage war inside me later no doubt. I walked down the stairs to see the old man holding out a pair of gloves that seemed so ancient that the dinosaurs probably invented them. “Take care of these, you’re gonna need them today.” I reached for them begrudgingly, not excited at the thought of doing anything that had to do with the use of gloves. “What are we doing today?” I asked as the old man opened the giant oak door to a crisp, cool morning just woken up by the glittering sun. He turned to me and smiled a sad smile. “Pruning, beloved.” He reached out his old, weathered hand towards mine and pulled me out the door.

We walked out towards the vineyard, enjoying the sound of the bird’s morning orchestra, and the sight of a new day, clean, forgiven, all of yesterdays mistakes forgotten. I looked out towards the vineyard, stretching out from eye to eye. The old man had many vines, and he took care of each of them on his own. I never knew how he had time to take care of them all, but he never failed to touch each one every day. We came to a row of newer, younger vines, and the old man stopped me. “Do you see this vine here?” he asked. “Yes.” “Well, this is a very special vine. It’s quite new, but I am especially fond of it. This vine is slowly growing into something much stronger that will bear much fruit when I’m done cultivating it.” I carefully searched the vine, trying to see what the old man saw, but all I could see was a small branch, slowly wrapping itself around the bigger branches. I scrutinized it some more, until I found something that did not look quite right. “What is the vine doing right here?” The old man knelt down beside me. His old eyes got sad, and the wrinkles around his mouth formed into a sad little smile. “It’s trying to attach itself to the weed. Little does this little vine know, the weed will only choke the vine until it withers and dies and can no longer bear fruit. The little vine does not understand why it can’t be apart of both weed and branch. However, we have to let it stay attached to it a while longer, before it can be properly pruned.” He smiled and patted my head. “Come on beloved, I have more to show you.” I stood up slowly and started to walk behind him, but my mind was on the vine. “Why would it attach itself to something so harmful?” I wondered. Suddenly, I saw myself looking through the door of my room, watching myself frown at myself in the mirror. My heart throbbed and there was a pain around my wrist that I hadn’t felt before. I rubbed it, trying to make the aching stop. “Are you coming, beloved?” I heard the old man call. “Yes, I’m coming.” I said as I held my wrist and started to run after him.

We walked for what seemed like forever. The old man telling me stories about his vineyard and the crazy things that had happened to him. We walked and talked and the old man gave me grapes off the vine to taste. When the laughter from our mouths echoed into the vineyard the old man turned quiet and continued to walk. The sad look in his eyes growing brighter as he looked towards the now bright lit sun. “What is it?” I asked, hoping that talking about it would take away that same sad look. The corners of his mouth turned up and he sighed. “There are vines here that are harmfully choking themselves and the vines around them with the weeds. We have lots of pruning to do here in order to help them grow strong and in line with the great vine again.” He put on his own pair of worn gloves and touched the most tangled, messy vine. The vine looked hopeless to me. Destructively tangled around every weed imaginable, forming itself in the shape of something reckless and un-vine like. “I don’t think you can save this one, sir. I think it’s too twisted.” The old man lifted up his head, and there was a different look in his eyes. A gleam that anything was possible. The corners of his eyes crinkled up as he smiled his gentle smile. “Yes, it is twisted beyond what your eyes can see. But I don’t just see what everyone else sees when they look at the vine. I see it’s potential, I see a straight vine that when tethered to the stronger branch, will produce more fruit than anyone else thought possible.” He looked back at the vine, closed his eyes, and took off his gloves. Using his old, sure hands, he straightened the vine, pulling it out of the weeds and gently twisted it around the stronger branch. Sometimes, he pulled off pieces of the vine that were too engrained in the weed. With each pull, something pulled at my heart, making me remember things of my past. With each tug I saw myself lying to my parents, sneaking out at night, talking bad about my friends, trying that first sip of poison in a red cup, kissing that one boy. It felt as if he was tearing out all the bad things I’ve done, scraping them until they were raw and honest. Bending the branches of my life into a new formation, bending them around the greater vine. Tears filled my eyes as I thought of the past which I was ashamed of. I didn’t understand why he had brought me here. The old man suddenly lifted his head and his eyes locked with mine. “Come here, beloved.” He whispered. I sat down in the dirt next to him. “Give me your hand.” I slowly lifted my hand towards his, stopping when I saw fresh blood on them. “Why are your hands bleeding?” I asked, curious. “Why didn’t you use the gloves?” He chuckled, lifting his eyes up towards the sky. “The gloves get in the way when I’m trying to heal the vine. Only when I use my hands, can I feel the vine and know where it’s trying to go.” “But doesn’t that hurt? Especially when you’re untangling the vine from all those weeds?” The sad gleam in his eyes sparked again. “Yes, beloved. It pains me every time I have to straighten out the vine and pull it out of the weeds. The weeds are thick and sharp and they cut into my skin. But when I see that vine that seemed so hopeless before, now straight and growing in the right direction, the pain in my hands is forgotten.” I smiled a sad smile. “Whenever you pulled the vine out of the weeds, all I could remember were bad things I had done.” I told him, admitting to the guilt that was pulling at my heart. “Yes, that happens sometimes.” He replied. “Let’s keep walking” He reached out his hand, and only then did I notice that it wasn’t just old and worn, it was completely covered in scars. Especially at his wrists. One giant circle of a scar peeking from behind his flannel jacket. I grabbed it, and let him pull me up. As he grasped my hand, warmth spread through my body, and the guilt that I was feeling vanished. “Come on beloved, there’s so much more to do.”

We walked until we reached a darker part of the vineyard. The sun hid behind the clouds, taking it’s warmth with it. I could smell the faint smell of smoke. “What is this place?” I asked. The old man said nothing for awhile, and I watched as faint tears spilled out the corners of his eyes. “These vines are dead. I twisted them as much around the greater branch as I could, but they continued to wrap themselves around the weeds which choked the life out of them. They did not like my pruning, and they withered away. We have to burn the branches now.” I watched as he laid his hand on the dead vine and slowly pulled it out of the weed. With a quick thrust he pulled the remainder of the vine out from it’s grave. Carefully, gracefully, he placed it in the fire, watching as it turned to ash. “It really hurts you to put your vines in the fire, doesn’t it?” I questioned. “Yes, beloved it does. I do not want any of my vines to end in the fire. I long for them all to produce good fruit. But sometimes the weeds become more appealing in the now, instead of the future of good fruit, so the vine attaches itself to it. I do all that I can to save the vine, but in the end, the vine has a choice, and sometimes it chooses it’s way rather than my way. Then there’s nothing left I can do.” He sighed, as he watched the growing flames. I scrutinized what was left of the branches. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed something, and called out to the old man. “Look!” I exclaimed. There, underneath the branch, was a small vine, slowly forming itself around the greater vine. The old man smiled as he stroked the vine. “Sometimes, out of the fire from the destructive vine, a new, clean vine grows in the right direction. There is not always fire for those who wrap themselves around the great branch, even those who play with it.” He patted my cheek and grabbed my hand. “Come beloved, I have one last thing I wish to show you.” I smiled as I looked at the slowly forming vine, and started walking again with the old man.

The sun was setting as we reached a spot I had seen before. Here was the row of newer vines, young and fresh and full of potential. The old man led me to the vine he had showed me earlier, the one slowly attaching itself to the weed. My heart grew sad as I looked at the vine and remembering all I had seen this day. I truly hoped this little vine would not go through the fire. “What are we doing at this vine?” My eyes searched the old man’s face. Once again he smiled that sad smile. “This vine needs a bit of pruning, beloved. You see how it’s slowly attaching itself to that weed? Well, we have to take that away. But I’m not going to do it this time, you are going to.” “Me?” I asked. I didn’t want to prune the vine. It seemed painful, even though it was just a vine. “I don’t think I can,” I told him. “Why not,” he asked. The question seemed dumb to me now. Why couldn’t I prune the vine myself? I looked at my hands and looked down, ashamed. “Because I don’t want to get scars like yours.” I whispered quietly. “I think pruning that vine will hurt me, and I don’t like being in pain.” The old man put his hand under my chin and lifted my face up to his. “Yes beloved, I know it hurts, the pain will be deep, and the scars will last for awhile, but just wait until next season, this vine will produce such sweet grapes, so much sweeter than they could now, and your scars will heal. All scars do.” He kissed my forehead, and handed me the pruning tools. “I’m going to go check on some other vines now, they need my help now.” He said, and started to turn away. “You’re not going to stay here with me, and make sure I’m doing it right?” He chuckled, “I’ll still be with you, but sometimes you have to learn from your mistakes. Just make sure you engrain the vine around the great branch, you’ll get it right, I promise.” He whistled as he walked away, and the sound soothed me. I looked at the vine, and sat down in front of it. I stared at my hands, seeing the naked skin, un-wrecked with scars, and sighed. “Scars heal.” I muttered as I grasped the vine. Pain seared my hands, burning them. My eyes closed and I could see me the day I was first told “No” for doing something wrong. My hands continued to twist along the vine and more memories flashed before my eyes. My first temper-tantrum. My first spanking. The first time I said a bad word. The first time I lied. The first time I disobeyed my parents. The first time my friends brought me to a party with drinking. The first time I woke up on the bathroom floor, drunk. This morning, when I criticized my body. Faster and faster they came, hitting me like a ton of bricks as I worked my hands through the small, tangled mess of the vine. I could see the blood on my hands from the small thorns that had grown on the vine, cutting into my skin. But I could not stop, I could not stop until the vine twisted itself around the great branch. I tried to ignore the thoughts racing through my mind, but they continued to haunt my thoughts as I worked. When I reached the part of the vine attached to the weed, I pulled and pulled, but it would not let go of the thing destroying it. Tears spilled out of my eyes as I saw my life through the mirrors of my eyes. “You’re life is a waste” a new, haunting voice whispered to me. “Why not enjoy it and do whatever you want while you have one?” The haunting voice grew louder in my pounding ears. “Live for yourself. Do what you want. Be who you want. You want to be pretty? I can make you pretty,” the voice taunted. “You want to be thinner? I can do that. You want luscious hair? I can do that. You want bigger, prettier eyes? Oh my sweet, I can do all those things. Just wrap yourself around me. These ‘weeds’, as you call them. Are they really that bad? I think they’re fun. I think they’re new. Much more exciting than that boring old branch. My fruit is sinfully delicious. It can make you be anyone you want to be. Just wrap yourself around me, my darling. Choose my branch….choose me!” The voice was screaming in my head now, the tears spilling down my cheeks as I gripped the vine with all my might. “No!“ I heard a voice unlike mine say. Suddenly, a gentle whisper broke through the chaos that was around me. “this vine will produce such sweet grapes, so much sweeter than they could now, and your scars will heal…” I opened my eyes, and saw my hands. They were caked in blood, and the scars were deep. The pain was immeasurable. I held them tightly together, the salt of my tears making them sting. A few quiet moments passed me by, until a light hand touched my shoulder. “Beloved,” he said. “Can I help you finish?” I nodded my head slowly as the old man knelt down beside me. He grabbed my hands in his and together, we twisted the vine around the great branch, forming it into a new creation. As we did this, I could see not only the blood from my scars sealing the new branch into place, but the old man’s as well. With one last twist, the vine was secure in the hold of the strong branch. I smiled as the old man took both my hands in his and kissed them. He said nothing, only looked in my eyes. I didn’t need to say anything. Somehow I knew he understood all that had happened as I pruned the vine. He pulled me up, and put his arm around me. “What will happen to the vine?” I asked. He smiled that old, familiar smile I loved. “Just a little time longer, and you’ll see.” He chuckled and pulled me close as we walked back towards the house.

“It’s time beloved.” I heard the old man say into my sweet-filled dreams. I opened one eye, to see light pouring through the lace curtains in my room. I got up, put some jeans on and pulled a sweater over my head. The mirror caught my attention again, but before I could look into it to see what a mess I probably looked at, the old man’s face peered through the crack at the door. “You are beautiful beloved. Come now, there’s something I want to show you.” I turned away from the mirror and grabbed his hand and smiled as he squeezed it gently. I could feel his scars. Somewhere, I knew there was a scar shaped like mine. Only, mine in the few months, had quietly begun to fade. We walked out the old oak door to the most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen. The sky was painted with pinks and oranges, streaming with sunlight that poured through every pore. “It never gets old, the sunrise?” I questioned. The old man turned his old, worn face to mine. “No it doesn’t beloved. It’s a new day, full of new mercies. Absolutely full of them.” He smiled and guided me towards the vineyard. We reached a familiar spot. My heart quickened at the sight, remembering what had taken place months before. The scar on my hand began to tingle, and I held it tightly. The old man guided me to the vine, and smiled. “Look there, beloved. Can you see that attached to the vine?” I looked, dreading the little thing to be attaching itself to more weeds, but all I could see was two grapes, dangling from the vine ever so gently. They were perfectly smooth, round, and had the deepest color of purple I had ever seen. I laughed as I looked at it, and the old man began to laugh with me. “Miraculous, isn’t it beloved?” I smiled at him, remembering the pain that the vine had gone through in order to produce such beautiful fruit. “Now,” the old man said, as he delicately plucked the two grapes from the vine. He placed \one in my mouth, and I closed my eyes as I savored the richness of the sweetest juice I had ever tasted. His eyes sparkled as I smiled. “Cultivating the vine is hard sometimes beloved,” he whispered. “But when done in my care and love, it produces the sweetest fruit.” He hugged me as silent tears of joy pooled at the corners of my eyes. As we walked back towards the house, I turned back one last time to see the vine, my vine, and smiled as I saw it slowly forming itself around the strong branch; a branch in the form of a cross.

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. 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. You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. If man remains in me, and I in him, he will bear much fruit. Apart from me, you can do nothing..” John 15:1-5