By the time you hear this, Sanda isn't home — she's in Romania, the country she grew up in, back for the first time in over twenty-one years. She recorded this episode before she left, so you'd still be tended while she's away. If you're the woman whose worry has quietly grown too big to see around, this one is for you. This week, before she flew out, Sanda pruned her garden back to the bare bones — and it preached to her. There's a tromboncino squash in her backyard that started out as a blessing and has since climbed all the way into the tree, smothering the peppers and eggplant she loves on the other side of the bed. And kneeling there with her shears, in a season of real uncertainty — grown children launching, her own body shifting, a low hum of worry about the future — she realized that the worry itself had become her tromboncino: something that started out good and responsible, and grew so vigorous it's crowding the light from the things she loves most. This is a conversation about the cares that climb — the worry that wears the costume of love and quietly chokes the good. Through Mark 4, John 15, Psalm 127, and Ecclesiastes 3, we learn that pruning was never punishment, that the Father cuts back the fruitful branch because He's after more, and that some of the people we love most have to be released like arrows that were always made to fly. In this episode: Why worry rarely looks like sin — it dresses up as diligence and love, but Jesus names the "cares of the world" as a vine that chokes good fruit (Mark 4:18–19) Pruning is not punishment — the Father prunes the living, fruitful branch, not to harm it, but to make it bear more (John 15:1–2) "Children are like arrows" — why an arrow you never release never does what it was made to do (Psalm 127:3–4) So much anxiety is just trying to live in a season that's already ended — and there's grace in the new one, if you'll set down the old (Ecclesiastes 3:1–6) Three formation practices: name your tromboncino, make one cut this week, and release one arrow A breath prayer to carry with you: You are the Vinedresser… I trust the cut. Make room in me… for the things that bear fruit. Take your next step: 🌱 The Rooted in Grace eBook is yours, free — a gentle companion for meeting God in the ordinary work of tending a garden and a life. Grab it at rootedingrace.me (just an email address). 🌿 Feeling the pull to actually clear some space and slow down? Rooted Reset is a five-day, mostly quiet email journey to help you interrupt the urgency and find room to breathe again. Also at rootedingrace.me. 📖 For the woman learning to grow with God, the Rooted in Grace paperback and the 30-Day Rooted in Grace Devotional both make tender gifts. Search "Rooted in Grace" on Amazon. If this episode named a tromboncino you've been pretending not to see, would you leave a rating and review? It's the simplest way to help another weary woman find this little garden gate — and it means more than you know. And I'd love to hear from you: what's the one vigorous, good-intentioned thing that has grown too big and started crowding the light? Leave a comment, share this with a friend who needs to make a cut this week, or simply reply and tell me where you are. I read every one. Until then — stay rooted, and grow with grace.