Deep Roots

It was a cloudy September day. My mom and I made the half hour drive out to my Grandma’s house like we had done at least a million times before over the years. I always knew what to expect when going to Grandma’s house. The scene was always the same. As we pulled into the driveway, she would often appear at the front door to greet us and then quickly return to the kitchen, where she spent most of her time. Her old, laid back poodle would be wandering around and her small, hyper, pesky Chihuahua would always be jumping at the front door to greet us. We would come in, sit down, and visit. I would usually wander off to the back bedroom, which was always somewhat of my hiding place as  I enjoyed the familiarity of the old furniture and calm atmosphere. After a while, Grandma would come open the door and say, “Supper time!” And then I would join the family in the kitchen for a huge, home-cooked meal, sometimes followed by a fun, competitive game of Scrabble.  That’s the way it always went. Going to Grandma’s was like going home. It was my safe place. Better yet, my favorite place.

Everything changed in March of 2014 when Grandma passed away. There were no more late-night phone calls or home-cooked meals or Scrabble games. The only visits to her empty house were to go through her things and keep things in order until we could sell it. Then, finally, on that evening in September, we drove to Grandma’s house one last time, this time to say goodbye to a place full of countless memories. It would soon be a home for someone else.

Soon after we got there and did one final walk-through, my mom and I made our way to that back bedroom that I had spent so much time in over the years. We stared out the window into the backyard that my mom grew up playing in and, as the years went by, my cousins and I did the same. Tall, thin pine trees were scattered around the yard. On this particular day, it was windy outside and as I looked up out the window, the trees were swaying. I looked at my mom and said, “That looks dangerous.” She smiled and said, “Yeah. Grandma always hated bad weather because those trees would start swaying. They have deep roots, though.”

Deep roots. I haven’t been able to forget that statement. As I stood there a little while longer, I started thinking. That’s exactly how it was for Grandma. That’s exactly how it should be for everyone who has decided to follow Jesus and has placed their life in His hands. The storms of life are inevitable. They will come, and they might cause us to sway and feel and appear as though we are going to break or fall over. But we won’t. Because underneath the shaky branches and limbs lies a bunch of very deep roots. God never promised us that this life would be easy. He actually promised the opposite. John 16:33 says, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” We might sway and we might bend, but we have hope. And as it says in Hebrews 6:19, this hope is an “anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” The storms of life will never break us or pull us under because our God is stronger than any storm. If we remain rooted in Him, we will never be shaken.

I know that my Grandma did not have it easy. She lost her mother at a young age and was raised by her grandparents. She had to work hard all her life in order to make it and help provide for her family. She suffered the loss of her two brothers and many other family members and friends. She endured the joys and challenges of raising three daughters. Life was hard, but she never gave up. She was by no means perfect, but she was strong. She had faith in a God who is sovereign and good, and she believed in Him with all her heart. This gave her hope, and hope made all the difference. As the years went by, she became a rock for her family. The legacy she left for us is one of love, imperfection, hardship, grace, and strength. We are also by no means perfect, but we do have one common trait: perseverance. We know where our hope lies and that’s what gets us through the storms.

Grandma was my favorite person and, when I lost her, I didn’t know how I was going to make it. There are still days when I feel completely lost and alone without her. But as I look back on her life and the life I shared with her, I know that I am going to make it because, like her, I have very deep roots. And for that, I am forever grateful.