I Am a Root

 I love discovering that I AM a ROOT!

Lately I have been revisiting thoughts that help me reflect and understand my value more clearly. I know I am of worth, yet sometimes the heart and the mind do not move in the same rhythm. This happens especially when I notice and then foolishly compare myself to people who seem so gifted, those with higher education, polished confidence, and the ability to teach or lead with such ease. Their talents are visible and celebrated. My gifts have always felt quieter, more ordinary, tucked into the everyday work of caring, supporting, and simply trying to show up.

Many of my gifts grow beneath the surface. Some people bloom in ways the world immediately notices. Their gifts rise above the soil, bright, confident, unmistakable. But others grow in the hidden places, offering strength and nourishment in ways that are no less important. These quiet gifts are often the ones that hold families, homes, and hearts together.

Many of us have gifts that go unseen by the world. There are gifts for reflection, for turning hardship into meaning, for noticing the sacred in the ordinary. There are gifts for tenderness, for language, for showing up when things are hard. There are gifts for resilience, for faith, for caregiving, for creating beauty out of memory and loss. These are not lesser gifts. They are simply quieter. Some people are called to build monuments. Others are called to build people. I hope I have been doing the second. A life offered in love and encouragement is a gift the world may overlook, but God never does.

Before a plant ever shows beauty above the soil, it spends a long-time sending roots downward. That downward growth is not wasted time. It is preparation. It is foundation. It is what allows the plant to bloom without collapsing. I like to think that our experiences are God’s way of strengthening our individual roots.

When we look at a plant, the beauty is above ground, but roots carry out roles that are powerful, humble, and often overlooked.

Roots anchor. They hold the plant steady through storms. Anchoring is not glamorous, but it keeps families from blowing apart in hard seasons. Their strength comes from depth, not display.

Roots nourish. They feed the whole plant quietly and faithfully. When we comfort, encourage, and care for others, we are doing the same.

Roots store strength. They hold reserves that help the plant survive winter. I am still learning to survive the winters of my life with courage, patience, and faith. Winter comes again and again, yet because of God, I remain alive beneath the surface.

Roots create connection. I love the thought of this.  I love connecting to others.  Roots can form networks that support and strengthen others. I hope my life has offered that kind of quiet support.

Roots rejoice with the flower. They do not envy the blossom. They work together. The flower takes in the light and the roots take in the water. Both are needed for the plant to thrive.

Our Savior Jesus Christ is the light and the living water. We need both. We need Him. And we need one another.

People tend to admire what is visible, what appears talented, beautiful, accomplished, or charismatic. But the visible is only possible because of the invisible. The world may forget the roots, but the plant never does. The plant knows it needs the roots to survive, and the roots know they need the plant as well. One does not flourish without the other

Being a root is a gift. Some gifts rarely receive applause because the world cannot see the quiet acts of kindness. The root supports the plant and the plant likely helps the root but not matter what, God see all!

I hope that caring for my mother brings her comfort. I hope my love and steadiness give my children and grandchildren a sense of safety. I hope those I have walked beside have felt cared for, prayed for, and encouraged.

As I think about roots and flowers, I am reminded that God never intended any of us to grow alone. Roots need the plant just as the plant needs the roots. One reaches down for strength and nourishment, and the other reaches up for light and life. Both are part of the same creation. Both are needed. Both are loved.

In the same way, we are meant to strengthen one another. Some of us steady the ground. Some of us lift toward the sun. Some of us bloom. Some of us hold everything together beneath the surface. None of these roles are small. None are forgotten by God.

I am learning that being a root is not about being hidden. It is about being faithful. It is about offering what I can, where I am, with the gifts I have been given. And it is about trusting that God sees every quiet act of love and every unseen moment of endurance.

We grow best when we grow together, with God showing us the way.