My hope in starting over.
With an hour to fill before an appointment, I remember a nearby arboretum, perfect for a wooded walk. I park and emerge into the warm autumn air; the sound of chattering children floats up from the play area down the hill. It feels good to be in nature, even if the paths are well worn from use.
Before long, I start to notice the tree roots. They run along the surface of the trail, spreading outward like tributaries of a river, running beneath and around the fallen leaves. These underfoot displays strike me as beautiful, even in their muted tones.
Roots speak to me metaphorically, as well. They are a good launching point to explain my six-month hiatus from writing this column. In June, I moved from my native state of Pennsylvania to Harrisonburg, Virginia. Alison and I wanted several things: a smaller house, one-floor living, to be nearer to family, opportunities to volunteer and a better church fit.
The process of moving swallowed us. Leaving a house of 28 years was like trying to get a ship out of a bottle. Getting a new house to fit us has been equally demanding.
So here we are. We’re beginning the process of regrowing our life. It’s daunting to start over: finding people, learning names, trying new experiences, figuring out the situations that call for “y’all” and those that need “all y’all.”
I wonder if I have the grit for this. Or the grits.
That’s where roots come in. This passage from Job fits perfectly:
“At least there is hope for a tree:
If it is cut down, it will sprout again,
and its new shoots will not fail.
8 Its roots may grow old in the ground
and its stump die in the soil,
9 yet at the scent of water it will bud
and put forth shoots like a plant.” Job 14-7-9
That scent of water, for us, is the hope that opens the passage. Hope that God has important work for us to do. (Alison says, substantial. A great word.) Hope that we can find a connection to a community of believers. Hope that we can continue to advance the Lord’s work.
Hope is a great energizer.
Paul urged the Colossians to live rooted and built up in Christ (Col. 2:7). That’s the key to growing shoots from “old roots.” We’re not starting over from scratch. The same Jesus who empowered and directed us to this point has not changed his purpose or plan. He’s still building his Kingdom.
In the small group we’ve joined, there is a man named Art. (There are, in fact, two men named Art and two art teachers in the group. Seems tailor made for me!) At 95, he’s a bit frustrated with his limitations. But he continues to find people he can encourage over coffee, ministering through listening and just being present.
He’s a great example of a spiritual tree that keeps growing.
I pray that my roots are that vital.
Lord God, giver of growth, you plant and preserve us. In every place you send us, give us that “scent of water” that reawakens our energy and renews our commitment to live for you.
Reader: What is that scent of water for you? What in your current situation gives you the feeling that you’re still vital where he’s planted you?
Feel free to email me at: bvanpatter@ailbe.org. I greatly enjoy hearing your comments!
