Rooted
I purchased a plant last summer, (a succulent of some sort but don’t ask me what kind), and before placing it in a sunny spot in my backyard I first nestled it into a pot and surrounded it with dark, rich soil. It did just fine there in the sun, but when the winter rains came I moved it under the covering of the patio to keep it from drowning. To my surprise, within days of relocating, my “just fine” succulent had doubled in height. Tiny white blooms had sprouted from the tip. I had no idea it could even grow blooms. My kids and I stared in awe at the miraculous changes this seemingly average plant had shown. Within two weeks the pot had toppled over because the stem had grown so high that the whole thing was top-heavy. My little succulent that once sat complacently at 9 inches tall, now stood nearly 5 feet tall. I needed a bigger pot.
When I performed the transplant, I was stunned to see how many new roots had filled the soil beneath the now gargantuan succulent. They had multiplied from a few stringy, straggling whisps to an abundance of strong, healthy roots that ran deep and wide. Clearly, the relocation had given it a sense of permanency.
Permanency is something I’ve always longed for. By the age of sixteen, I lived in seven different houses between five different states. Since graduating high school I’ve continued my nomadic existence, residing in ten different houses between four different states. I’ve called many places “home,” but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve longingly said, “I’d love to put down roots someday.” Just over a year ago, I wrote about our family’s relocation back to Northern California (The Teal Wall), and how surreal it was to come “home” to the city where it all began for my husband and me. For the first time in years, I’ve painted walls, (an aesthetic form of rooting), and with each passing month, I’ve inched a little further back from the edge of my seat, daring to get comfortable once and for all.
Last month the Lord spoke to me in the early hours of the morning through a devotional book I’d been reading:
“Imagine a tree in the woods, firm and strong, planted on the bank of a river. This tree provides a home to any number of creatures. As the seasons change from winter to spring, the tree brings forth sweet and satisfying fruit. Passersby satisfy their cravings on their early spring walks. When summer comes, families flock to the tree for its shade and to swim in the adjacent river, bringing joy and connection to the woods and the larger community. In fall, its colors turn and bring a depth of beauty to all who lay eyes on it. And when winter comes again, it stands strongly through the storm, giving shelter to creatures who need it while preserving its energy for the following season of growth” (Alabaster, The Good and Beautiful Bible Study: Volume 2).
I want to be like that tree, I prayed. I want to provide for my loved ones and my community in all seasons. When others are in the frigid shadows of emotional or spiritual winter, I want my presence and my home to be a shelter from the cold. I want to view my own winters as a time of rest and preparation for what’s ahead. When others are in the sun too long, overheated, and exhausted by the heat of this world, I want my presence and my home to offer shade and cool refreshment. In spring-like seasons of new life and blossoming adventures, I want my presence and my home to satisfy the needs of others, encouraging them to continue on their journey and embrace the adventures ahead. When the air grows chill and the leaves turn color, I want others to see the beauty of change in the way I reflect God’s change in me. I want my life in Christ to be a thing of beauty that brings joy to all who see it.
No tree could provide so well in every season if it were easily swayed by winds or its roots were loosened by heavy rains. Nor could any tree provide so well if it were still young, immature, and easily inhibited by its surroundings. No, a tree like the one I prayed to be has sturdy, ample roots that run deep and wide. It had to feel solid and secure in its place. Rooted. That’s the word God gave to me for this year. I embraced it wholeheartedly because, for the first time in my life, I felt that I could. With this word, I felt God permitting me to finally put down roots. Like my succulent, my recent location change has given me a sense of permanency, and my roots have already begun to flourish.
It’s not that I wasn’t healthy before moving here. Like my plant at first, I was “just fine,” but I wasn’t thriving, and unbeknownst to me I wasn’t reaching my full potential. I kept looking left and right, wondering if maybe I’d be moving soon and if I was going to move soon, there was no sense in rooting. In my previous season in Mississippi, I was pummelled by rain (literally and figuratively) and God lovingly relocated me away from the storm. It was only then I felt safe and secure enough to let my roots burrow deep.
For too long I assumed rooting had everything to do with where I was and how long I planned on staying, but this is not what “putting down roots” truly looks like. It’s not in the painting of walls or even in the establishment of a community. Those are not the things that ground us. Our sense of belonging in Christ, our firm establishment in His word and in His presence are what anchor us deep in the earth when the winds of change blow or the seasons alter. “This is the path of one who delights in the words of God, who meditates on these words and creates space in their life for those words to take root. This blessed person provides shade and shelter for others, stands strong through the changing seasons, and offers joy, beauty, and connection to the world” (Alabaster, The Good and Beautiful Bible Study: Volume 2).
Since moving back to Northern California, God has been using my gifts of hospitality, encouragement, writing, and speaking to provide for my new community of friends and family. I am striving to live a life that is blessed and rooted in the Word and ways of God. He’s opened my home as a haven to those needing respite and opened my heart to the needs of others. I’ve been blessed to give generously of myself out of the overflow of God’s love for me. My relationship with Him is flourishing through steadfast time in His presence. Morning after morning I wake to sit at His feet. I’ve been accepting the Psalmist’s invitation to “delight in the law of the Lord, meditating on it day and night.” In doing so His Word says I am like a tree planted along the riverbank, able to bear fruit and stand firm, unmoved by the world (Psalm 1:1-3). In Him am rooted.
Maybe you don’t like where you’re currently planted. Maybe you’re struggling to thrive, or maybe you’re “just fine,” when what you really want to be is blooming and outgrowing your pot. Maybe you aren’t even aware of what you could be, because you’ve never felt safe enough to test your strength. Maybe you don’t feel like you have much to offer anyone just now. Trust that God has you where you are for a purpose. You may need more time to grow and mature before your roots can deepen and spread, so use this time to ground yourself in His word and in His presence; your roots have no hope of holding you up if you don’t. God will relocate you in His good and perfect timing, and you’ll be ready to grow tall and flourish when He does.
When we put down roots, our trunks grow wide and sturdy, our branches strengthen and multiply, our leaves stretch out in all directions, and we bear much fruit. We boldly stare down harsh elements, knowing we are anchored far beneath the surface. We have something to generously offer to anyone in any season, according to the gifts He’s given us. I’m so thankful for the roots I’m putting down here. I know I will still experience winters. I will still feel the summer heat bearing down on me at times. I will still go through hard seasons of change, but my roots will hold me firmly in Christ. These roots are soaking up life and living water, allowing me to bear fruit and provide shelter and shade to those around me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, fixed in place. I am home. I am rooted.
“And now, just as you accepted Christ Jesus as your Lord, you must continue to follow him. Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness.”
Colossian 2:6-7