I knocked out a chore that I had been putting off because it was… unpleasant. A huge mess of brambles grew wild over the last year and covered over a pine tree stump. They stood about 5 feet tall and covered over 2 square yards of my garden. Originally, I let them grow and bloom because I thought they were blackberries and we would have a little “found” produce from the yard! (Also – true confession – I let them go because I was recovering from chemo and did not have the energy to tackle them…)

Well. Those suckers only grew canes and thorns! There were a few blossoms, but the resulting fruit either was ravished by the birds (quite possible) or so small that by the time I went to check, there was nothing but vines.

Last fall, I tried to cut the brambles back but quickly discovered that I was in for a fight. They were healthy, green, and happily twined around each other. Even with gloves and sleeves, I was quickly covered in scratches and scrapes. I trimmed back the larger canes where I could reach them, and retreated. I knew that they would die back once winter hit, and I’d tackle them before they started sprouting again in the spring.

A few weeks ago, I gathered my courage and my energy, my sharpest clippers and thickest gloves. The day had come! The forecast called for sunshine and highs in the mid-60s. A rare day in early March, to be certain. The result was a recycling bin FULL of brambles and a bit of English ivy.

As frequently happens with me, I had a good conversation with God while I was working in the yard. Everything from whining about the thorns that kept sticking to me, to a theological rumination on weeds and thorns in the Genesis creation accounts. (If I were a literalist, I’d be cussing out Adam…)

Mostly, I reflected on the way that our journeys often seemed to bump from one step to another, staggering from event to event like a raccoon drunk on the beer in my slug traps.* Rarely does life proceed in an orderly fashion. Rarely do our “best-laid plans” amount to much. And very rarely, indeed, is there much to show for our efforts.

Frequently I blog about the end result and I don’t show much of the journey. There isn’t a picture of the massive bramble patch before I started hacking away at it. You aren’t going to see pictures of the scratches on my arms or the mud on my boots. (Trust me, there were lots of both of those!) I did remember this time to at least take a picture of a trash bin full of thorns and the cleared space in my garden. If nothing else, I impressed myself.

It’s human nature, I suppose, to only show the pretty parts of life. The flowers when they are blooming. The greening of our lawns. The blue skies and puffy clouds. Resting in a tranquil moment in my hammock swing in my backyard, birds and fox kits nearby. Life isn’t going to always happen that way. And Christians are, for some reason, hell-bent on painting the happy-go-lucky life that supposedly results when you follow Jesus. As if. Do we escape the struggles and pain of human existence if we love God? Nope. Sorry.

Jesus said, “I’ve said these things to you so that you will have peace in me. In the world you have distress. But be encouraged! I have conquered the world.” (John 16:33)

Christ took care to remind the first-century disciples that they would not have an easy life. They would be misunderstood. Their lives would be forfeit. They would be targets of wrath. Despite lots of in-person seminars, they didn’t get it. I suspect humanity hasn’t changed too much since we don’t “get it” either.

We can best face life with the companionship of friends and loved ones. We walk through the rough days with their support, our mutual need for encouragement, and the steadfast equipping of the Holy Spirit. None of these moments are meant to be handled alone. And they don’t come neatly packaged with 3 steps and a bangin’ praise song, or an acrostic sermon outline. (Need I say this? Yes… I will. If the only Christianity you know is packaged like Lucky Charms, sweet and ready-to-eat, please run the other way.)

This is part of why I have chosen to blog about my grief journey, writing about the really ugly parts of coping and living in the Valley of the Shadow. I make no promises that you’ll see a finished product, but you will at least hear what I’m dealing with in my day-to-day adventures.

Hopefully, I am also showing you that I know God’s kindness and faithfulness to me in ways that are beyond my imagination. The phone call of affirmation when I needed it. The card in the mail with a love note. A text, a voicemail, or a tagged post online. A devotional reading that speaks exactly to my situation, or to my questions. A purring cat who has decided I am his Person, and can pet him. The fears that pop up, and the consistent reminders in my life that I am… loved by the Divine. Deeply. Personally. Even when I doubt or complain. (Ahem… especially when I doubt or complain!)

It’s been a few weeks since my adventure with the brambles, and those nasty vines have started resprouting. Sadly. I’ll go at them tomorrow. And the next week. And I’ll cuss a little (OK.. a lot) when what seems unfair and unreasonable happens to me again. But I will not cuss alone. (Wait. What?? Cuss with God?) Yes… but that’s a topic for another blog post.

*yes. this really happened