roots and rest

A March day in Kentucky reminds me of a June afternoon in Michigan. I sit near a creek, the sun dances on the rushing water. If I close my eyes and lay still, stretched here on this tree, I am perfectly warm, except for the tip of my nose. 

I remember dad fishing, me on the river bank with my journal, the smell of pine trees, eating snacks packed by mom while soaking in nature and dreaming of boys, of the future, and trying to find the right words for all that filled my young heart.

I was eager to jump in a boat and follow the river then.

Today, I happily rest on this sturdy Kentucky tree branch, which is actually a giant root that juts out with others in a huge tangle and leaves me dangling over the water.  Such a lovely, still root.  

Will we get to put down deep roots here, and will they become strong and thick?

My mind travels upstream to where we have been.  From that bank on the river where my dad fished, from my childhood home, to college, to our first apartment, to babies and a house and deployments, to seminary, to more babies, to Indiana, and two more babies, and then to Eastpointe. 

I think of the resting places in each season: my favorite climbing tree as a child; the crisp woods of Northern Michigan; the arboretum in college, the fields and pond in Indiana, the wide, endless lake in Michigan. I think how I would have held tight to the ground in each of these places, and how God’s grip on me is stronger than mine on any place.

Now, I rest on thick tree roots in Kentucky alongside the creek I have come to love, just downstream from the rope swing that was a joy to the kids last summer. 

Will our roots have time to grow deeply here? 

I am no longer as eager to jump in the boat and see what’s around the next bend in the river. I like the stability of the shore, sitting on thick roots in Kentucky, even if they are not my own.

As usual, God reminds me that He is not my crystal ball. Yet He is my Comforter, and He sends the sun to warm my face, sends stillness to my body right alongside along the moving waters.

I hear Him making my next boat. I wonder how long I have until he calls me aboard?  No matter, He bids me rest and wait and live right here, and leave the planning to Him.