The Importance of Roots in Times of Crisis

One of many moving trucks in our lives...

The importance of roots ... when the wind blows.

“Where are you from?”

It’s a common question, an ice-breaker even, at times. And I’m never quite sure exactly how to answer. I was born in a state in which I never actually resided … and after a couple moves, spent most of my childhood in another. I did K thru 12 there, then began another series of moves. Each of my children was born in a different state. So, where are my roots?

Roots are important. Until recently, I thought of tree roots as these massive branch-like appendages, burrowing deep into the ground, cementing trees into the Earth, establishing their belonging to a place. And I thought I had none. But it turns out this is a myth. Most roots are actually fairly shallow: a widespread system of horizontal surface roots, reaching out around them, with only a few deeper anchoring ones. They need to be shallow to stay in the oxygenated looser soil near the surface. To get the nourishment they require. And though I found conflicting information on it, there even seems to be a tree that can “walk:” Socratea exorrhiza.

Home. It’s an important word in our culture. “Home is where the heart is.” You are safe when you're touching home base. You score a point at home plate. Home is where we “set down roots.”

But what if we have moved a lot? What if we don’t have those deep stabilizing roots, the ones that span decades? What happens then, when strong damaging “winds” sweep into our lives?

Where are my roots? I have an ever-growing system of horizontal, nourishing roots. They stretch out through people I have met along the way: friends, neighbors and new neighbors and newer neighbors who have become my friends, an ever-growing number of authors and readers I'm meeting on this more recent journey as a writer. And on and on and on. Not set in a physical place, but a network of support.

The wind is blowing … hard right now.

Health scares are much more difficult when they involve our children. There is a special kind of irrational parental guilt when we feel we passed on some kind of curse hidden within our gene pool. Yet, I feel the support of my roots. And I am thankful for the nourishment and stability they provide.

Where am I from?

I am from each and every one of those places, and each and every one of them is home.