“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord,
whose confidence is in him.
They will be like a tree planted by the water
that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
and never fails to bear fruit.”
~ Jeremiah, the Prophet
Nobody could have known. The children were well-behaved. Their blonde hair, perfect posture, with prominent bows in each of the girl’s hair. They didn’t misbehave like the other children we often saw in church. But the appearance of their perfection, even that of my wife, was mandated. Coerced with shame and disappointment. The appearance of the perfect family felt like my life depended on it…because it did.
Growing up in relational poverty, with little connection to extended family, no real nuclear family to speak of, and brokenness as the predominant state of relationships, making it right in my family was essential. But to overcome all that tragedy and disappointment, my kids didn’t just need to be good; I tethered my happiness and sense of well-being to them. Expected that they could help me overcome generational pain. They couldn’t. And the weight of responsibility was crushing them and my wife.
A near collapse of everything you think is important has a funny way of getting your attention. It certainly did mine. I was either going to resign myself to a life alone, apart from my wife and children (which I thought I deserved), or try to climb out of the pit I had dug for myself. Thankfully, I somehow rallied to fight for the latter.
And I see the same all around me now. Our comparison culture is stoking a similar desire. We are all working really hard to try to prove to others that things are perfect above the surface. That everything in our life is worth following, liking, or becoming a fan of. But like I so painfully discovered, if the most beautiful of trees and the most beautiful of structures aren’t rooted by something much deeper, the tree will die and the structure won’t stand the test of time.
So much of what rooted our country feels like it has been lost: faith, civility, family, and a transcendent set of ideals that bounded and guided our way. Without a deeply planted and broadly spread system of support, the foundations are crumbling and so much of what we felt like was thriving is dying.
I had to start from scratch. Dig down through thin soil, establish a new root structure, and carefully water and cultivate over decades to set a new foundation. I am still rewriting the story, dealing with consequences, and earning trust, but there are signs of new life and abundance. The reset seems to be taking hold. Hope is rising.
Is that possible for a country? I am not sure the directional momentum will allow, but I think it is the only hope. It certainly is mine.
Consider
How rooted are you?
Beyond the stuff that you show everyone else, how deep do your foundational roots run?
How ready are you to withstand the next strong breeze that blows in your life?