A couple of years after we left our farm, we purchased an acreage in the country. The dear lady we bought it from had moved there as a bride and her late husband had been born there. She told us many precious stories of their lives and we looked forward to adding some of our own family history to its walls.

This "new" home held so many dreams for us and we looked forward to making it ours over the years to come. History oozed from every corner of our little house on the prairie.

One of its most delightful features was a huge, old-fashioned garden bursting with every imaginable variety of mid-west fruit. It had apple, apricot, peach, and cherry trees; rhubarb; strawberries; dewberries; raspberries, black and red; and the most beautiful grape arbor.

This arbor was of particular interest to my romantic heart. It was a huge arch, about 20' long. It was tall enough to walk through and I could just imagine the grapes hanging in clusters just above your head, ready for picking. My dear mother-in-law had given me a love for rich, gooey, grape pie and I could barely wait for the first fruits to appear. The lush, heavy vines were cool and green beneath their damp bower and it was a lovely retreat from the summer sun.

Imagine our surprise that these healthy, massive vines produced only a handful of fruit. Not even enough for a pie.

Fast forward to the next spring…

One day while I was in town, my industrious husband decided he would prune the grape vines. I returned to find them stripped down to nothing but the main vines. Not being familiar with the husbandry of grapes, I was absolutely certain he had killed them. I was going to miss my little oasis.

Fast forward a few months…

We nearly ran off all of our friends trying to find homes for all of those grapes! We froze pies, we made juice, jelly and jam, and gave away as many as we could find homes for. It seemed our love of grapes was not as widely held as we thought. :-)

Morning Exercises, Rev. Wm. Jay:

To a person unacquainted with the process, the pruning of the tree, the cleaving of the ground with the ploughshare, the operation of the chisel on the stone, would look like an effort to injure or destroy. But view the thing afterwards. Behold the vine adorned with purple clusters; survey the field, yielding the blade, the ear, the full corn in the ear; examine the carved work when the sculptor has achieved his design, and fixed it in the proper place.

Christians are sometimes perplexed and discouraged because of their trials. They know not what God is doing with them. They fear he is angry, and going to crush and destroy. But they are his workmanship. He is preparing them for their destination in the temple of his grace. These trials are applied to qualify and advance them. They will only perfect that which concerneth them. "It is good for me," says David, "that I have been afflicted." I know, says Paul, that this shall turn to my salvation. "For our light affliction, which is but a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal glory."

The pruning, plowing, and carving of the past two months stripped away all vestiges of human strength and I rested gently in the arms of His grace. To try to catalog it would amount to an attempt to describe the Grand Canyon.

His arms held my dear family on those days when I lingered so near the valley of the shadow of death; His arms held them as I lay delirious and incomprehensible; His arms held them and your arms held them when they were so weary in the night watches. His arms held them when they had to make difficult decisions for me. His arms held us as the weeks went on and on while we were apart.

When the Pruner's knife had whittled its deepest and all I could do was whisper, I heard His tender voice say "My peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid (Matthew 14:27). When the blows came one upon another, it was Job's voice who raised my eyes: "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in Him" (Job 13:15a).

This has been yet another amazing leg of our journey. The lessons of suffering, the examples of sacrifice that go beyond description, the unfathomable mercy of our Father as He held us, sustained us, and walked beside us in the valley—only to draw us once again into the sunlight and life. There are no words…

How incredible it was to walk through the doors of home again after two months… My dear ones decked the house with banners of welcome and balloons. What a loving, warm welcome home!! Their arms were the best welcome of all. I am home. Oh, I am home.

How rich and marvelous have your arms of love been to our family during this time. Your cards and letters, flowers and visits, prayers and gifts have been measureless. They encouraged us all—what a blessing to walk at your sides on our journey. Thank you seems much too inadequate for love that could fill that Grand Canyon!

We are adjusting well to the nightly medical routine of IV feeding and have been so blessed by the home nursing staff who have helped us make the transition. I have been feeling very unwell the past ten days, so my time at the computer has been short visits. We just learned I have a bladder infection that has caused a lot of nausea, achiness, high fevers, and vomiting. We pray the new antibiotic will bring relief soon.

My dear husband, in my absence, built a lovely new shower in our basement so that I would not have to attempt to get up in the tub in our bathroom upstairs. It says "I love you" to me and I am very grateful to my groom for his loving heart and service.

We celebrated Tina's birthday on Sunday and enjoyed her visit very much. I am happiest when all of our ducks are around the table and Amber created a lovely dinner for us. My dad also joined us and we had a sweet, quiet afternoon.

I am still very, very weak. It may be a few weeks before I am ready to go to Chicago to discuss further treatment options. The ovarian cancer vaccine study that we had hoped to participate in will not be an option for me after all, as the tumor had some bacteria that made it unusable for the vaccine process. We were understandably disappointed, but the Lord has a purpose in all things.

It has been a priceless gift, indeed, to be pruned deeply, to discover the depth and richness of His love for His children. When we have nothing left of ourselves, He is everything. His love touches the deepest places in our souls and He is everything.

In our weakness, He is there. In our fear, He is there. In our suffering, He is there. In our joy, He is there. In our loved ones, He is there.

A cherished friend from San Antonio flew up to spend two days with me at the hospital. She came with a heart filled with love and her sweet spirit and her sweet fellowship as we shared those things mothers' hearts share and her gentle voice as she read aloud to me as I rested were a precious balm to my soul. She left with me one of the books she brought to read selections from and it has become such a blessed favorite. It is called The Valley of Vision, edited by Arthur Bennett, and it is a collection of old Puritan prayers that have been gathered and published in this dear little book by Banner of Truth.

One particular excerpt seems to fit very well here and I will leave you with it and a very full heart…

Blessings

Thou Great Three-One,

Author of all blessings I enjoy, of all I hope for,
Thou has taught me
   that neither the experience of present evils,
   nor the remembrances of former sins,
   nor the remonstrances of friends,
   will or can affect a sinner's heart,
   except thou vouchsafe to reveal thy grace
   and quicken the dead in sin
   by the effectual working of thy Spirit's power.
Thou has shown me
   that the sensible effusions of divine love
      in the soul are superior to and distinct from bodily health,
   and that oft-times spiritual comforts are
      at their highest when physical well-being is at its lowest.
Thou has given me the ordinance of song as a means of grace;
Fit me to bear my part in the music ever new,
   which elect angels and saints made perfect
   now sing before thy throne and before the Lamb.
I bless thee for tempering every distress with joy;
   too much of the former might weigh me down,
   too much of the latter might puff me up;
Thou are wise to give me a taste of both.
I love thee
   for giving me clusters of grapes in the wilderness,
   and drops of heavenly wine that set me longing to have my fill.
Apart from thee I quickly die,
   bereft of thee I starve,
   far from thee I thrist and droop;
But thou art all I need.
   Let me continually grasp the promise,
   'I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.'