9/4-

“Daughter. I love you. Uncurl your fists and hand those thorns to me. Let go so that I may begin healing. It does no good to heal when the thing causing the wound is still in place.”

I open my hands and some thorns drop out right away. “Papa, these other ones are stuck. Do I take them out or do you? Or something else?”

“I will, just hold them open.”

He uses a pair of tweezers and gently removes each, making sure no part of them remains. Angels apply a salve and bandage my hands.

“Papa, what did I get into /grab ahold of that had those thorns on it? Will you show me how to recognize it next time before I touch it?”

“Those are from a tree of bitterness and offense. When the time is right, we will uproot it together. Let your hands heal for a while first. A week from today we will do that. For now, stay here by the water. All week.”

“Yes, sir. This stream is beautiful.”

“Yes, it is. Don’t be deceived, dear. There will be many distractions coming to draw you away from here. Stay here.”

9/10

I keep seeing my hands oozing from the wounds. The other day, I felt like he wanted me to wash them off in the river, so I did.

“Yes, dear, each time you see that, wash the impurities that are coming out off in the river. You don’t want to leave that on there. Look, do you see that they are almost healed?”

“Yes, Papa. Thank you. That means we start removing the thorn bush tomorrow?”

“Yes, hon. Don’t worry about getting ahead of yourself. It’ll come at the right time.”

9/11

I enter and see Papa has the tools with him to work in the garden. “Hey, the rose bush by the river is getting pretty decent sized now.”

“Yes, dear, it is coming along nicely and will soon produce flowers. Today, though, we will be uprooting this one.”

He motions towards a very dark, sick looking bush. It is covered with thorns and brambles. He hands me a pair of heavy duty work gloves and a spade. The gloves cover my forearms, all the way to the elbow. I see I have a thick apron/ jacket/ shirt on also, with sturdy work pants and boots. He is in similar garb. I turn to face the bush. “Ok, Lord, where do we start; what first?”

“This whole belief structure needs to be completely removed. Start there at the base. Use these to snip off what branches you can first. Hold them as you cut them so they don’t fall on you.”

“Yes, sir.” I start on one section. It’s tougher than it looks even, holding the branch with one arm and snipping it off as close to the base as possible. Some are too thick for these clippers, so I work at paring them down as much as I can. Holy Spirit has a drill-type machine and uses it from the top of the bush, straight down the center where the branches have made a clearing from leaning over. This drill will somehow get down into the taproot so, when the time comes, it can be removed completely, without any random bits behind to start a new bush. Jesus is working the wheelbarrow, hauling the trash away to be burnt. I can’t see Abba and I focus in on what I’m doing.

After a while, the bush is a sparse skeleton of what it once was. It looks pretty pathetic now, all the twisted, thorny branches gone, thick twig fingers remaining, bent over to the sides with the drill machine buried deep in the center.

“Now, it’s time for the chainsaw. Start with these outer edges, trimming the trunks into manageable segments. Make sure to cut them from above so you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Yes, sir.” Slowly, we work our way around this bush, reducing its reach. I feel an ache in my soul and notice writing on the bark. It describes offenses. I know as they remain, the pain of the offense is able to come up again as a poison held in the top of each thorn. Every time I grabbed ahold of the offense and allowed the thorn to prick me, it deposited a little more of the poison into my system. That is what was oozing out of my palms that needed to be washed away by the river of life. Tears rolled down my face as I carefully cut away each branch, releasing forgiveness with each pass of the chainsaw, faces of friends and family members, some I barely recognized or hadn’t thought about in years, flashing through my memory as I worked on the branches. It was slowly, steadily growing smaller. Eventually, only the base with the drill remained.

“Now, we deal with the root, my dear.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Take your spade and dig up everything in this circle I’ve marked out. It’ll need to be pretty deep too. I know you’re tired and that last part was pretty emotionally draining, but keep going. I will give you all the strength and stamina you need to finish the job.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

As I start, I am glad to see that each shovel-full seems to remove more dirt than it looks like it should be able to. I notice Jesus hauling the dirt away to the place where the bush will be burnt. He answers the question in my mind. “Even the dirt here has been poisoned by this bush. Did you notice that not even grass grew underneath where it covered? The circle that Father drew is just outside its reach. Once we have burnt and purified this dirt, it will be healthy again and ready to receive the new seed that we will plant.”

“Oh, I see. That’s how you bring beauty from ashes?”

“Effectively.”

I continue to work my way around the perimeter of the circle Abba drew, digging deeper and deeper in a trench. Then, gradually making my way inward. Every once in a while, I would come across a root that was too solid for my spade to dig through. I would dig around it and continue on my way. I noticed the ground was starting to smell putrid and rotten as I neared the middle. Soon enough, I got to a point where I couldn’t go any further until the root bundle was taken care of.

“Ok, Papa, what now?”

Beep, beep, beep. I hear a backhoe backing up to the edge of the pit.

“This, my dear, will be the easy part.”

I see a rope running through the top of the drill Holy Spirit had placed there earlier. I remember the drill is sunk deep into the taproot. As the equipment lifts it, the whole ball comes up together. I walk over to the oven-pit where Jesus had been dumping everything throughout the day. It is pretty full and I realize that the bush is now in pieces and effectively upside down, with its roots, dirt on top and the branches and thorns underneath.

Whoosh. Suddenly, the whole thing is engulfed in flames. Acrid black smoke rises in thick clouds. The wind picks up and blows it away, dissipating it and sending fine ash floating through the air. I understand that this purified ash will help to nourish other land also. I watch as the branches burn white-hot until all that are left are smoldering cinders. The dark, thorny bush is completely consumed and no more. The backhoe now takes loads of ash back to the hole we had dug out. Jesus and I shovel the last remains of it into the wheelbarrow and return it to where it belongs. Holy Spirit has also brought some mulch and fertilizer to mix in to make sure it has all the correct nutrients for what we are going to plant now.

“What would you like to plant here, my dear?”

“A poplar. No, a huge oak tree, one that has branches big enough to sit in!”

“Oh yeah, that’s my girl. How about both? There’s more than enough room here for both to grow large and healthy.”

“Sweet!”

I take the seeds he hands me and carefully place them in the fresh dirt. I direct the river to water them. Then, we walk away together to put the equipment and gear away. I’m tired in a good way and ready to sit and relax with my family.