How fruitless to be ever thinking yet never embrace a thought... to have the power to believe and believe it's all for naught. I, too, have reckoned time and truth (content to wonder if not think) in metaphors and meaning and endless patterns of ink. Perhaps a few may find their way to the world where others live, sharing not just thoughts I've gathered but those I wish to give. Tom Kapanka
After living in Michigan for several years, a former family at our school recently moved back to Minnesota, the home state of both parents. I was reading the mother's comment in the post below. They miss our school, and even though they are back in their home state, she said it doesn't feel like home yet.
I could relate. Julie and I went through the same thing 12 years ago. It takes time transplant roots and that feeling of being "planted." I've written about roots before, but not until that conversation in the comment section did it hit me that my family has roots in Michigan, Iowa, and Kansas... and the image of a banyan tree came to mind. I have walked among banyan trees in Thailand and Hawaii and it quite unlike anything I'd ever seen.
The older I get, the more life feels like that, like a banyan tree... it gets harder to tell our roots from our branches. The more the family grows the more interwtined our lives become with others. And just when it seems like we don't know where things are going, we're just glad to be alive... to feel the touch of rain, the warmth of the sun... and to know that sometimes it's our roots that hold up our arms.
Exodus 17:11-12 11 Whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed, and whenever he lowered his hand, Amalek prevailed. 12 But Moses' hands grew weary, so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it, while Aaron and Hur held up his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other side. So his hands were steady until the going down of the sun.