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The Husbandman reached for a tendril that was already partly twined around the thistle by the rock, broke it off with a snap, and let it fall to the ground. Tovina followed his gaze as he studied the place of the break. There a little drop of sap had filled the hole and was already hardening to seal the wound from hurt.

"The branch does not really want the thistle," he said. "Neither would its truest desires want anything I prune away."

Tovina let her eyes follow his every move until he circled all the way back to her. Not one thorn did she see placed by those careful hands.

"Who put that thistle there? And why do you allow it? Who makes the briar patch and puts the thorns on the roses?" she tested.

"It is my Enemy, Tovina. His sneaky ways cannot abide the happy things, so he tries to ruin everything that I make happy. Yes, he even tried to ruin you."

"But is not the pruning at times very unhappy, something like a cross?"

"Do remember that the lesson of the cross is the lesson of giving up on the grapes. If this seems unhappy, so be it; but if you are truly seeking connection TO THE VINE via the cross, the pruning will never thwart true happiness grapes.

"In fact, if you will discuss with me the pruning, tell me when it hurts, when you wish me to stop, when your endurance seems ended, then your connnection will grow even stronger. Sometimes all I ask is that you endure for a little while, always finding solace in me and the Vine."