learning to abide

i'm sitting at our makeshift desk, surrounded by windows, in the morning, as it finally becomes spring. i'm drinking a cup of tea, because it is a season for tea, and abiding. tea instead of coffee, and abiding instead of bearing.

i've spent most of my adult life drinking coffee and bearing things. attempting to bear fruit (isn't that what we're called to do)? to produce things- an educated self, a married self. to bear babies that we will bear into children, to bear good things from our work, to be busy, to do, to do more, and if we can, to do even more. we become these things, our products and achievements, we measure ourselves and each other by them- the amount and the type of fruit we bear. even the good fruit that Jesus talks about- the fruit of the spirit- i tend to measure it, and to make it into something to do, not something to be. my 'doing' looks like 'trying'.  i expend effort- thinking about it, reviewing the day before to evaluate my fruit, beating myself up for failing- again, and again- to bear good fruit.  i have learned that i'm really good at bearing the fruits of frustration and anger and impulsivity and impatience.

that is because i. can't. DO. it. i'm not supposed to. if i stuck a branch outside and expected it to grow grapes it wouldn't. it needs to be attached to the vine and the ground and the earth and when it is, the grapes just come. when the system is intact- the fruit just comes.

Jesus says bear the delicious fruit of love and kindness and gentleness. fruits of patience and self-control. fruits of peace and joy and faithfulness. but He also says abide in me. and if you do, you will bear these things- you will have them and give them. and all of these fruits make me happy, and help me to make other people happy.

i spend a lot of time forgetting the abiding part! i spend time gathering the resources i think i will need as a branch, standing alone, to grow my own grapes. and it doesn't work. instead it makes me exhausted and often the opposite happens, i don't become barren, i make ugly fruit. fruit that makes me unhappy and helps me make other people unhappy too.

so this has been a season of learning to abide. a long cold winter, the longest and coldest i've known- but necessary- as i have learned to stay- to remain- to live in- to dwell- to abide in God. to feel the everlasting arms around me. to be hemmed in, behind and before. to know that i am known. and loved. held and sheltered. protected and fed. watched over and waited for.  called to and invited back. forgiven. safe. allowed to just be. and to grow.

it has been a time of being quiet. of listening more than talking. reading more than writing. being filled up again and tended to. and i'm finding that abiding itself is delicious. and it's not just allowed, it's required. contemplation- prayer- learning the words of God- are the soil and water and sun.

this is a season of drinking tea and abiding. the spring is coming- there are buds on the trees, and buds of peace and joy and faithfulness. there are some leaves on the low bushes, and some leaves of patience and self-control. there are orchid blooms and forsythia, and blooms of love and kindness and gentleness. and in time, there will be a season of bearing fruit.