Roots.

A wandering traveler who seeks solace and rest in the adventures she has. An itinerant citizen who stays long enough for the baby roots to spread, but soon uproots before the taproot takes hold. The radicle begins nestling itself into the fertile soil, but soon the plant is transferred to a new location, learning to live in a new environment once again. Away from family and friends, adapting to the different nutrients. And the process soon starts all over again.

Who knows the potential of this particular plant, for it’s never given the chance to grow and flourish. Is it due to her discontent that she so often feels the slight taste of dissent? Is it her fear of realizing a reality of stunted growth as her utmost? Is it simply the longing in her spirit to find a home that she has not yet discovered? Will her taproot ever grow thick enough, her root system ever grow deep enough, that being transplanted becomes no easy task?

She lives in a position of transition. A lifestyle of a nomad. The saplings she grew up with have all seemed to put down roots and put them down strong, with a husband, wife, child, or house to go along with their settling. Yet she wanders.

Is this an aimless wandering, or is she following the whispering of one greater. One thing’s for sure: the desire to wander has dwindled and the openness to finding a home has taken over.

 I want to be like a tree planted by the water, trusting in the Father to help me grow.