BFF: Dig Deep

Everyone seems to think they want to be a tree: tall and strong and grounded. But trees are so pretentious. Everyone ooohs and ahhhs over the tree. Oh, its leaves! Oh, its branches! Look at the glorious tree against the blue sky! Look at the magnificent tree supporting the beautiful birds! Look at the life of it all!

But what holds the tree up so that the tree can get all this glory?

The roots.

The roots that bend and twist with the pressures of the earth, compromising their intentions, making the best of situations. When the rains come and the winds roar, they dig themselves in and hold on. With each passing year as the tree grows in stature and wonder, the roots wind deeper and deeper into the depths of the earth, hidden even more so from any sort of recognition. They get trampled on and tripped over and cursed at.

When I played for Trinity Western University's varsity soccer team they had just started out--I believe I joined in their second year in the league. I vividly remember the hot, sticky van rides home from the game after losing 10-0 where the whole lot of us would be red-faced and scowling with contempt at our defeat. Pat, our head coach, would tell us over and over again to keep our chins up because in the big picture, TWU would one day be national champions and this team needed us because we were the roots. That's what he'd say after each game, on each van ride: "you girls are the roots of something huge, I can feel it."

We worked our asses off but you know what? We were the roots. Everything exceptional has to start somewhere. TWU went on to win a bunch of national whatevers. I don't care, because I'm jealous. But the point is, is that the roots are important. Overlooked, but important.

That's what a mother is: the roots. We are in the audience. We are backstage. We are alone in our homes, propping up pictures of our kids against the walls, nailing them in, lifting them up, while they're out doing something great, something important. We carry them, push them, hold them up, and guide them out, digging deep into the earth, drawing upon our surrounding strength.

photo by Jake VanDyck

But this is what I live for, when I feel so broken and bruised that my heart is bending back against itself. I dig deep and live for the day that my cracked and twisted skin can look up and see our kids wild and free, elbowing their way through the weather, gloriously alive.