Pruning in January

Janelle Peregoy describes how we can apply an essential gardening technique to our spiritual lives, and why January is the perfect time to do it.

I associate January with gardening. For those currently blanketed in snow, feel free to shake your head in righteous indignation.

Also, when I say ‘gardening,’ I use the term rather loosely. There have been other times in my life where I could have boasted of my flourishing vegetable patch but that was long before moving to our current suburban house and having kids.

My gardening these days can largely be defined as maintenance. Most of the plants we have get their water from our automatic sprinklers. I rarely think about them except when a big rainstorm comes and the weeds subsequently flourish. Or alternatively when things look rather … dead.

It was the brownish state of my hearty geraniums that prompted me outside last week. As I began snipping away at shriveled flowers and sagging leaves, I was struck by the nature of pruning. What happens when we cut away what is dead to make way for new growth?

It is an apt metaphor for one’s spirituality.

In gardening, as in life, there are only so many resources. If a decaying branch is blocking sun from a new shoot, that is a problem. For new areas of growth to flourish, they must be given time and attention.

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While at my farmer’s market this past weekend, I remarked to my favorite apple vendor that the crowds seemed unusually large that morning.

“New Year’s resolutions: healthy eating and what not.” He shook his head rather ruefully, “None of us farmers expect the additional revenue after February.”

When individuals seek to create a new habit, whether going to the gym or starting a daily Rosary, they often make the mistake of simply adding the activity to their routine. I honestly think that many New Year’s resolutions fail not because of lack of good intention but for lack of asking what else needs to happen or be released to prioritize this new thing.

I am not merely just talking about this as a time management technique. It runs deeper. Sometimes, we even need to make conscious decisions to prune certain relationships from our lives—maybe those who violate our boundaries or more simply no longer share our values. These are not meant to be light decisions. They need to be made with discernment and prayer.

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And yet, the natural world is resplendent with change. The seasons. The life cycle of plants. God isn’t subtle. We too, as His creations, are meant to grow and thrive.

Goodness knows, I’ve made so many mistakes in this process. There have been relationships I’ve released to obsessively wonder later if they simply needed greater tending. There have been times I have agreed to activities or projects, not out of genuine desire, but for fear of disappointing someone else. There have been times when I have passed on exciting opportunities because of a decision to remain comfortable and unchallenged. There have been times where I have been guided by fear, instead of love.

Another lesson I have learned from pruning: we don’t always know what will bear fruit. There have been several times I lobbed off a perfectly good branch only to be dismayed when I noticed green growth underneath. Sometimes, we don’t know what lies dormant in our hearts until it is time to bloom.

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What happens when we cut away what is dead to make way for new growth? #CatholicMom

I started writing again during the pandemic. On one level, it was my version of the sourdough starter. It allowed me a diversion to help quell the tickertape of anxieties so many of us experienced. But on another level, my desire for reflection, my desire for creative expression, my desire to connect with others in a new way, had already been there. It was just waiting for the moment when I could tend it more fully.

So by all means, prune.

Let go of what needs to be released.

Allow your new branches to stretch toward the sunlight.

In God’s time, bloom.

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