Rooted

    My son and I were coloring together the other day. We were sharing a pack of twistable crayons, passing them back and forth across the table. His colors were breathing life into the black and white monotony of a robot. Each vibrant addition created a story for the lifeless creature. There was a reason for each choice. 

    “Mom,” my son smiled, “I am making his head orange because it has to be bright because that is where his brain is.”

    “I think that’s great,” I half-heartedly responded. I was at work on my own canvas. No robots here, just white space inviting a different type of imagination. 

    “Mom. Mom. Mom.”

    “Yes, son?”

    “His body is going to be red because that is where his heart is.” 

    This seven-year-old has a better understanding of color symbolism than many of my high school English students ever had. We both reached for the green twistable at the same time and as we both laughed a bit, I realized that it was the first time he had stopped long enough to look at my creation. 

    “What are you coloring, Mom?”

    “A tree. With a swing.”

    “Why?”

    Typical seven-year-old question. I knew my response was going to be too deep for him, but then again, this is the same kid who had just symbolically matched colors to concepts and mood, so maybe it wasn’t too deep. “I was thinking about roots. I imagined a big tree that was both beautiful and strong, one that could hold me as I swung.” 

    “Do you know where that tree is, Mom?”

    “Not where that tree is, babe. Rather, who that tree is.”

    I lost him for a slight moment here. I could see the wheels inside his head turning as he tried to process a tree being a “who.” He also understands the proper use of pronouns: a tree is an “it.” 

“Mom” (because every sentence has to begin with my name), “Is the tree alive?”

“Aren’t all trees alive?”

“Well, yes, but not like us,” came his adamant response. 

If you haven’t really sat down and had a conversation with a young child recently, I would encourage you too. There is something so life-giving in the combination of their innocence and brilliance. We adults have a lot to learn from their blend of assurance and curiosity, their intellect and creativity, and their awareness and sensitivity. 

“Who might my tree symbolize? Just like your color red symbolizes your robot’s heart? Who is strong in our lives? Who is always beautiful? Who is always there for us?”

“God!”

I smiled and nodded. He smirked and obviously felt great pride in his correct response. Then he swooped up the green crayon and went to coloring an alien. 

As he busied himself with his coloring book, I imagine myself in my hand-drawn swing hanging from the limbs of God. My legs move back and gently release forward, guiding the swing to a slow but consistent pace. I breathe in the reality that I am here and so is He. This artistic and holy moment reminds me of my favorite tree verse from Scripture. 

“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 17:7-8, NIV)

    I realize in this symbolic text, I am the tree and He is the water. Sort of messes with my crayon representation of Him as a tree. The idea is still life-giving though. He is the life source, the vitality, the sustenance. I am the one who is in existence because I take root in His power. While there is something so overpowering and overwhelming about that reality, I am learning that what overwhelms me can come from a place of glory. Close to His stream, I am not overwhelmed by fear or worry; rather, I am overwhelmed by His consistency and His unwavering love.

A few years back, I heard a teaching on this text that encouraged individuals to change out the given pronouns with the personal pronoun that matches one’s name. I did so and the verse came alive in a way that it hadn’t for me before. I suggest you do the same with your personal pronouns. Write it down where you can see it. Maybe draw a tree next to it. Most definitely, may your soul be encouraged to plant roots where they matter. 

“But blessed is the woman who trusts in the Lord,
whose confidence is in him.

She will be like a tree planted by the water

    that sends out its roots by the stream.

She does not fear when heat comes;

    her leaves are always green.

She has no worries in a year of drought

    and never fails to bear fruit.” (Jeremiah 17:7-8, NIV)

There will always be storms, something will always be chasing you down. There will be winds that blow fiercely and people that push back intensely. There will be moments of doubt and times of anxiousness. Sometimes, even breathing can seem unbearable. “But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him…” If you haven’t plopped down in a metaphorical swing recently and sat with your Maker, you should. Lean against the strength and beauty of His arms. Take the time to let your soul be overwhelmed by His ability to be present in it all.  

I return to my drawing and scribble these words under the gray-crayoned swing: to sit with the Maker and be fully known. There is no better place to be, my friends. There is no better One to know me fully than the One who created me to be fully His. A simple drawing with such a deep-seated Truth. 

This week, may you find Him in the small things. Maybe, even, in a pack of crayons or in the brilliance of a small child. Wherever you are, may your roots go deep, your leaves be green, and may your fruit be a blessing to the world around you. 

  Until next time friend,