Pruning

I've always disliked the word "pruning." Not only does it make me think of waterlogged fingers and toes, it makes me think of pain and loss. I never enjoyed the sermons preached on John 15: "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..." I didn't want to be pruned or to even think about being pruned. Yeah, you might bear more fruit in the end, but the "cutting off" part hurts!

Several years ago when we still lived in Jacksonville we had three crepe myrtle trees in our front yard. There was nothing spectacular about these glorified shrubs so I took it upon myself to "prune" them in hopes they would turn into mighty trees heavy with blossoms every spring and summer. I had seen some crepe myrtle trees that had been pruned and figured I would give it a shot. I didn't know if I was pruning them in the right season, in the right spots or even in the right amount, I just started hacking away. When I was done there was nothing but three groups of spare twigs poking up from the ground. I had gotten carried away. I hoped when Eric got home he wouldn't notice my handiwork but low and behold he did. Get my haircut and he doesn't notice for weeks. Cut a few (ok, a lot of) limbs off, even hide the evidence, and he notices instantly! I nonchalantly told him they needed pruning and was confident I had not killed them.

For six long months we stared at the twigs. It was a constant reminder of my impulsive decision to make something better that I felt needed improvement. Then finally green buds started to appear and before we knew it our crepe myrtle trees had blossomed. Whew! The Lord had come through yet again and in the form of little white and pink clusters of flowers.

As much as I don't like to think about it, I need to be pruned. I need those useless areas to be cut off. Those self-indulgent things that only bring temporary satisfaction. The wasteful times spent watching television instead of spending quality time with the Lord or my family. Thankfully the Lord does know the season, the area and the amount of pruning we need and He never just hacks away. He carefully, though sometimes painfully, snips off the areas that aren't bearing fruit, applies salve to the open wounds then sits back and watches us bloom for Him.

Somewhere, someone took the time to prune an apple tree that provided the fruit I'm using for dinner tonight...Roasted Chicken with Apples and Cream Sauce.

Roasted Chicken with Apples and Cream Sauce
1 (3-4 lb) whole chicken
Juice and peel from 1 lemon
1/2 cinnamon stick
1 small onion, quartered
salt and pepper
1/2 cup butter or margarine
1 tbsp vegetable oil
6 medium apples, (2 quartered and 4 peeled, cored and sliced)
2/3 cup apple juice
1 cup half and half
ground nutmeg
1 tbsp each chopped fresh chives and parsley (optional)

Place lemon peel, cinnamon stick, onion, and quartered apples into cavity of chicken. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a Dutch oven (or large oven-safe sauce/soup pan) melt 1/4 cup of the butter and the oil. Add whole chicken and brown on all sides (a little tricky, just plop that sucker in and toss it around). Add lemon juice then one peeled and sliced apple to pan. Next add the apple juice and bring to a boil. Cover and place in oven to cook for 1 to 1.5 hours. When chicken begins to pull away from bone (gross I know) it's done. Remove from pan and place on serving platter. In same pan, add remaining butter and sliced apples and cook just until apples are tender. Pour apples over chicken. Add half and half to the pan. Stir well then simmer to reduce slightly. Season with salt, pepper and a pinch of nutmeg then pour over chicken as well. Sprinkle chicken with fresh herbs and serve with rice pilaf and steamed broccoli.