Inextricable

I’m helping my parents with yard work. The ground under my shoes is soft from May rain. The weeds have taken advantage of that. They’ve claimed sidewalk cracks and flower beds.  I crouch down and pull a handful of leafy green from where it does not belong.

“Would you mind trimming the vine on the arbor?” my mom asks. She’s raking up the remnants of fall's leaves. “You always do a great job with it.”

I throw the weeds into the wheelbarrow, then find a pair of hedge clippers. I look at the arbor. It’s covered by a tangled mess. I can see coarse, brown vines on the inside of the arbor. They are thick from years of growth. But on the outside of the arbor, hundreds of thin green shoots have grown in every direction.

“Whoa,” I say. “This trumpet vine is out of control.”

“It’s unruly,” my mom says. “Remember when I first planted it? You trained the vines around the arbor as they grew.”

I nod. Then I begin to prune. Wild vines fall to my clippers.

As I choose which shoots should stay and which should go, the iron arbor begins to show through. The metal was once black, but now it’s pocked with rust. I reach a place where part of the arbor has completely rusted away.

“Uh, Mom,” I say. “This arbor is standing on three legs.”

She peers into the opening I’ve uncovered. “You’re right. But look why it’s still standing.”  She points at the old, brown vine that is twined around the post. It is wound so tightly that it holds the broken arbor in place.

After years of wrapping around the arbor, the vine has become a permanent part of it. The vine is inextricable.

That is how I want Christ in my life. I want Him to be incorporated into everything I do. I want Him to be apparent in the words I speak, the actions I take, and the thoughts I think. I want Him to be inextricable from me. Because I know that when things fall apart, only His strength can bind me together and keep me whole.

I set the clippers down. “I'm going to let this vine grow,” I say. “The arbor’s stronger this way.

Then, instead of trimming vines, I begin to weave them in and out of the arbor.