Roots

I wonder sometimes, about growing out of things.  I have a few boxes and bags of clothes stacked in Judah's nursery, filled with clothes he's outgrown.  I look at them occasionally and wonder how he ever fit in them.  So tiny.  He's big now.  He outgrew those clothes, he will never be that small again.

I wonder sometimes, about the purpose of things.  When you come to the other side of a battle, tattered and worse for wear.  You're exhausted from the fight, but how rarely do we see the fruits of our labors in that moment?  We see dust settle.  But in those last moments, we know nothing about victory.  And we wonder... what was it all for? 

This is why I have a hard time letting go.  I want something to have purpose, meaning.  I want a reason and an explanation.  But therein lies the rub.  If something has a purpose in my life, it is harder for me to walk away. 

Until that moment. 

There is almost always a moment.  No matter how long it is in coming.  There is almost always a moment when you're standing in the new plot of land, having been told to dig a garden.  When you're standing in the shade of the towering, protective tree.  The tree, which gave you shelter for so long.  There it is, then, that you've been told to dig this garden.  To overturn soil and break apart dirt and create space for yourself. 

And you realize, to dig this garden, the tree must go. 

But the tree had served a purpose.  A good purpose.  Strong and steady and tall.  To see this tree go... means losing some constant, some comfort, which you have grown accustomed to.

But the roots are in the way of the garden.  The garden you've been told to dig.  The new plot of earth, which will be the growing place.  For new things.  For sustaining things.  A new harvest, a long time coming.

To dig the garden, the tree must go.

I am looking at this tree, though, and I know it had a purpose.  I know just what that purpose was.  And deep, deep, I know that purpose has been fulfilled.  I do not need this tree and its shade anymore.  I know, if I had the strength to remove it, we would be better off.  The garden would grow, in the space I make.  But the tree had a purpose.  And saying goodbye is hard.

Digging up roots is hard.

But we outgrow things.