
As I’ve been taking care of my plants this week, I’ve been thinking about my pothos plants in particular.
I love pothos—I have them all over my house! They’re easy to care for, incredibly forgiving, and I love the way they trail and vine.
But something about them has been on my mind.
The vines tell you how healthy the plant is.
Every so often, one vine will start losing leaves. First one turns yellow, then another… until eventually you’re left with a long, bare vine with just a few leaves at the end.
It’s fascinating—because the plant knows.
It knows it’s taking too much energy to push nutrients all the way to the end where new growth happens. So it essentially stops investing in that vine. The growth slows, the leaves disappear, and what’s left just… stays barren.
But here’s the interesting part.
When you take that vine—and ruthlessly cut it off—it redirects that energy back into the rest of the plant. And before long, you start to see new growth. New vines. Fuller, healthier, more beautiful than before.
And I can’t help but think… we’re a lot like that sometimes.
So often we hold onto things far longer than we should—like that vine we’re afraid to cut. We remember how much effort it took, how long it grew, what it once was… so we leave it, hoping it will somehow come back to life.
But it doesn’t.
It stays bare. Stagnant. Not growing.
Sometimes the stress in our lives is like those yellow leaves and empty stretches of vine. It can be the gentle conviction of the Holy Spirit, showing us it’s time to let go—of a relationship, a commitment, or even something we’ve been holding onto tightly.
When we refuse to release those things in obedience, they can create a kind of “bare spot” in our lives—a visible lack of growth.
And letting go can be hard.
It hurts to “cut the vine.”
To release something we’ve invested in.
To surrender something or someone that mattered deeply.
But when we focus only on the loss, we forget what comes next.
The growth.
The renewal.
The fullness that follows obedience.
Instead of gripping those things with both hands, we’re called to live in obedience, opening our hands and saying, “Yes, Lord.”
To trust Him enough to let go—believing that what He grows in their place will be more life-giving and bring more glory to our Savior than what we held onto.
With love,
—Becca















