Life is in the Roots
For the past week, my daughter Caroline has been conducting an experiment in science involving seeds. She planted two seeds in a cup and placed them in the dark, and she planted two more seeds in another cup and placed them in the light. And over the course of a week, she tracked their growth through drawing pictures and making written observations.
So, before we talk any further about the seeds, let’s be honest here: as a part-time homeschool mom, some of the disadvantages to having your children at home include more than normal greasy mom hair days (because, let’s face it – who has time to wash their hair when math is calling your name?), the ability of your children to invade your personal space and ask for your help all of the time, finding the drain in your bathroom sink clogged because it’s filled with orbies:
And, my personal favorite, finding papers like this behind the spelling tab in their binder:
This is the real world, people. Don’t have any false homeschool ideas in your head like children are fuzzy angels on a cloud smiling and saying, “Yes, ma’am” and perpetually blessing your name as you drill them on math facts. Picture kids crying, pencils breaking, moms yelling, everyone stinking. Both literally and figuratively.
But there are advantages to being a homeschool mom as well. Advantages like finishing up spelling while sitting outside together on a beautiful day, taking nature walks, reading good books, and watching seeds grow.
And as I’ve watched Caroline’s seed grow, I’ve been reminded of how much our life in Christ is like this planted seed.
Nothing has happened above the surface. All of the activity has gone on down below. And what looked like one ordinary, solitary, shriveled seed contained the material to produce an entire root structure in just one week.
And here’s what I’ve been challenged with – I spend most of my time looking on the surface.
I spend a lot of time looking in the mirror and deciding what kind of woman I am by the appearance of the reflection staring back at me. Greasy mom hair that hasn’t been washed in four days, tired bags under my eyes, and melasma spots on my face from pregnancy and too much time out in the sun equals a woman not significant enough to be noticed, much less thought beautiful.
I spend a lot of time looking at my past and deciding the trajectory of my future by the poor decisions I made. A missed opportunity of going to graduate school, a passed up opportunity to go on the mission field, a late start as a writer, and not enough discipline or go-get-’em attitude equals a woman with a future ahead of her as dim as her past.
I spend a lot of time looking at my present and deciding what kind of harvest I’m going to yield by the size of the tasks I am accomplishing. Homeschooling four kids around one scratched up kitchen table, remodeling a house that has taken (thank you, Hurricane Harvey), almost a year and a half to complete, and spending more hours than I can count organizing other people’s schedules, play dates, and piano lessons, equals a woman whose harvest is small, not large, ordinary, not radical, and mundane, not risky, daring, unique, bold, or exciting.
That’s what I see when I look on the surface.
But God is teaching me to look at the roots. To trust that underneath the layers of the soil in my life, there is growth going on under the surface, growth that would amaze even me if only I had the eyes to see.
Last week, someone passed on a podcast to me that was eye-opening. The podcast is about forests, trees, and a tree’s system of roots. And it’s about what’s going on beneath the surface of things that we simply cannot see. (Click here to listen.)
But here are a few take aways that God has been using to encourage me ever since I listened:
- In a forest of trees, the tallest, strongest, oldest trees are the most connected. Their root system connects with many other trees in the forest, giving life, receiving life, sharing information, strengthening the weak, and receiving strength when they themselves need it. (And if you think this sounds too much like sci-fi, just listen to the podcast. It’s amazing.)
- Underneath the ground in the root system of trees are two things: fungus and tubes. The fungus lives and thrives because the trees give the fungus sugar, and the fungus gives the trees minerals they need to survive. How does this exchange process of sugars and minerals take place, you might ask? So glad you did…it’s through a tree’s roots and a highway of hundreds of miles of hollow tubes, tubes so tiny that they measure 1/10th the width of a single human hair. And through the tubes, the great exchange happens: sugar for minerals, minerals for sugar, and the forest grows, thrives, and is happy.
- Through these tubes, when one tree is sick or damaged, struck by lightening or being eaten from the inside out from a fungus or mold, it shares information, warning others trees of what’s ahead. Strong trees share sugar with weak trees, and weak trees passing along whatever sugar they have before death.
- And if that isn’t strange enough, scientists say that there seems to be one “intelligence” that controls it all. Yes, I promise. Just listen to the podcast. Like a brain, in the soil, under the earth, directing who gets what, knowing what lies ahead, warning, encouraging, strengthening, sharing nourishment and information.
What I just described can only mean this:
In his book The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien was closer to the truth than we ever dared imagine, and his walking, talking, intelligent trees are closer to reality than what we’ve ever dared to believe. There is intelligence underneath the soil; and that brain is either a freaky, white and green glowing mass that should make us never want to tread in the forest again…or…it is the wisdom of God Himself directing and speaking to His creation in places we cannot see.
I’m going for the second option.
And I’ve thought a lot about how that applies to life.
When I shared last week about my depression and the ways I am learning to hand God the map of my life, trust His leading, and feed on His faithfulness, your responses were overwhelming. You took cups of courage and poured them into me, helped me see I wasn’t alone, and held out the hope that this is many of your struggle too. I don’t need to be embarrassed or ashamed because I am not alone. So thank you, thank you for that encouragement – it meant more than you’ll ever know.
And what I’ve realized this week is that in the midst of seasons of depression, or anxiety, or struggle, or hardship, we are not to walk this journey alone. The strongest trees are the most connected. We are given what we need for each and every struggle, each and every day, through God, His Word, His voice that speaks and creates and nurtures and gives life, and through one another.
How beautiful is that.
And life is not found or measured by what we can see on the surface of our lives. We are to peel back the layers and look underneath the soil of our lives, trusting God is doing more than we could ever ask or imagine through our roots.
So today, stop looking at the surface of things. Stop fearing the scrawny harvest that can only come from the solitary, shriveled seed of your life. Every seed was made with the capacity to grow tremendous roots. To connect with an entire forest of trees. To give nourishment and receive nourishment. To hear the voice of the Master Creator who does far more underneath the surface than we could ever imagine up here on the wrong side of the door, the wrong side of the soil, the wrong side of here and now. One day, the soil will be split open, the door will be flung open, and we will be able to see. Not what we falsely imagined but all that is radically, really true because of the Man who hung on a tree to pay the price for all of our sin.
Hang all of your hopes on that tree, on the seed of that death and resurrection, and I promise you, you and I both will not be disappointed.
“…and He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree, so that we might die to sin and live to righteousness; for by His wounds you were healed.” I Peter 2:24