Recently,
driving from Salisbury to Raleigh, I got the chance to encounter a
post-ice storm landscape in North Carolina. All along I-85 and up
through I-40 toward Raleigh, the pine trees were down. Some trees
were split right in half, but many were totally uprooted. It was a
graveyard of pine trees as they flanked the highway. Tree after
tree, roots up from the earth, were taken out by water and 28-degree
weather.
I
was curious how so many pine trees had fallen.
Turns
out, the answer was simple. The ground had been saturated before the
freeze, making it easier for the roots to loosen. But what’s more,
the roots of pine trees aren’t as deep as other trees.
Roots
matter. Knowing your roots, knowing their depth. Just looking at a
tree on your property doesn’t tell you a whole lot about its roots.
You have to know what kind of tree it is, how old it is, its health,
and the earth in which it’s grounded.
Just
as looking at the folks who sit beside us every Sunday, tells us
virtually nothing about their joys, sorrows, and what grounds them in
the midst of life. Do they have deep roots, or are they barely
holding on against the wind—like a pine tree in saturated earth?
As
an adult who was adopted as a child, I know the dangers of assuming
our genealogical or genetic roots provide grounding. I’ve never
known what it is to trace my lineage back generations or to see my
face shape reflected in a great-aunt. This, for me, has not
been a point of concern, as I know my roots hold to a spiritual
lineage rather than a genetic one.
There
are teachers, loved ones, and friends who literally touched my life
with their presence. They gave me the great writers and sages from
all ages, who form my roots.
This
month, as we consider our roots, what grounds us, we invite you to
reflect on “Whose are you?” In other words, “to whom do you
belong in the universe and from what sources does your story spring?”
Our
roots nourish us in times of great impasses, when the way is unclear
or when we are struggling with living a life in right relationship
with others and the earth. As we so often sing in Spirit of Life,
written by Carolyn McDade, “roots hold me close, wings set me
free.”
So
may it be for us all as we walk this path together.
In
faith,
Rev. Robin
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