One day on a walk in Brookside Gardens (one of the best places around for an inspiring walk in Washington), a friend pointed to a tree with knotted roots that seemed to be gripping the ground with all the strength they could  muster.  Its exposed roots looked like knuckles, she observed. 

On previous walks along other favorite trails, friends and I noticed several huge trees that had stood generations and were now laying  prostrate. Their roots, which had once plunged deep into the earth, were now severed and reaching out helplessly. My first reaction was that the roots were too shallow for the tall, strong trees. Perhaps the trees had been weakened by disease, said one friend. Not necessarily so, I later learned. Even healthy trees sometimes topple over when the earth beneath them shifts from too much rain.

How like my faith that is. In good times, I stand tall and firm in what I believe. Head high, heart  fixed, I move sure-footed into the world and can withstand the onslaught. Failures, like rain, may come but I  just put up my umbrella and push on with the benign belief that failures are steppingstones to success. That’s what I was taught as a young girl growing up in a Pentecostal church in Savannah, Ga.,  and what I internalized, even when I struggled to believe it.

On the other hand, there have been those times when no matter where I turned, disappointment and frustration came  like heavy, dark clouds. Like drops of persistent rain, life’s trials have one time or another caused the ground to shift beneath my feet and with the weight of the elements pulling at me, I felt a fall would surely follow.

My son’s rebellious teenage years became one of those root-shaking times.  As he grew more and more enamored of street life, my family’s foundation strained to nearly breaking point.  As my husband’s and my son’s relationship grew more contentious, I felt at times like I was standing on the edge of madness.

 Keeping my son in high school became an obstacle course that I was determined to run, pulling and pushing him along. Graduating from high school was imperative, I told him time and time again as I reminded him of  his potential and our extended family’s belief in the importance of education. I cajoled him into going to church as many times as I could, hoping that earlier Bible lessons would sustain him when he refused to go.

In the midst of my tears, I  began to see God at work in me and in my family. I welcomed the distraction that work offered, attended my daughter’s school functions and served in church activities. I also prayed hard and studied my Bible more diligently. Little victories with my son, like the time he made an A on a computer programming  test, became cause for inner celebrations of thanksgiving.

After going to four different high schools in almost as many years,  my son graduated and is  now pushing his way through college while still struggling to find his footing in the world. My family, my marriage are stronger today than it’s ever been. I am learning I cannot worry about what rain will come tomorrow.  I am holding on to hope today.

Like the tree in Brookside, which I marvel at each time I see it,  I am clinging to my faith come rain or shine.  As the Scripture says, “This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it!”

PS:  Please continue to pray for and send support if you can to the survivors of the devastating earthquakes in western Indonesia and the tsunami on Samoa.

Related posts:

1. Deepening faith through spiritual direction
2. Faith for a foggy day
3. Going through mountain tunnels with faith
4. Finding a personal faith
5. Learning about a faith-filled woman, Prathia Hall