When the Wind is Stronger than Your Roots

It was Day 4 or 5, mid afternoon, Samantha was just finishing a nap and I was preparing to put Annabelle down to start a nap when I got a call from Chris. He told me to get the girls ready. As soon as he arrived home, we were going to jump in the Jeep with him and check out a beach he stumbled across while away running errands. I LOVE IT when he does this. Usually he is counting on me to make fun plans for the family. I love it when he surprises me with a cool plan. Annabelle would survive a missed nap. Early bedtime or something.

THIS is the beach. Driftwood Beach. Have you heard of it? I never had. I forgot my camera in the excitement of jumping in the Jeep. We parked, walked down an enchanted, narrow path through the woods and stepping out into this scene, my jaw dropped. I was in awe. I'd never seen anything like this before. I asked Chris for the keys and I raced back to the campground to get my camera. My mind was already forming this blog post for you.

THIS is what happens when the wind and water are stronger than our roots.

It's beautiful in a way.

And this? Seriously? It looks like a giant sci-fi spider.

This next one... See it? A torn heart?

Here... I'll draw the top back in for you...

These giant, majestic trees...

There will ALWAYS be something more giant, more majestic.

Extra strong, this one. But his time will come.

I've been discussing the subject of roots and change on this blog for years. What an amazing visual to illustrate this topic. 

At 4 years old, my roots were deeply dependent on that green house on Cherokee Lane. (read: April 3rd Post for that story.) Yet 36 years of moving led me to write a post in 2014 about planting my roots in a different Source. (see post: October 2, 2014) Little did I know that 12 days later my husband would arrive home early from work to carefully deliver the news that my Dad had shot himself. Suicide is an event of high winds far stronger than any relocation from one house to another.

I am still on a journey of transplanting roots of my heart from the shakable to the unshakable. Just because I'm RVing, doesn't mean I have this root thing all figured out.

Lately I've been asking myself the following question: What does that ancient text mean when it says,

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

How, exactly, do I store my treasure in heaven? When I kiss my daughter goodnight, is that action kept, for safekeeping, in heaven? I can't capture every precious, glittering moment on camera, and even if I could, moth and rust will eventually destroy it, even if I store photo albums carefully for 150 years of grandchildren. Are all these beautiful moments being saved in heaven somewhere for my later enjoyment? Am I storing up treasure in heaven when I wash dishes? Or give a homeless man a bag of groceries? Is it only certain actions that get put into heavenly storage or is it the Spirit in which we do it? Another text says,

"if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing."

Those are the questions I'm asking myself as I soak up each sparkling, temporary moment with my family this Spring and Summer. I take incredible, unspeakable joy from my small family and yet, God and I have had our moments alone. He and I know that He is enough for me. He knows He is the only One who fills my heart with the best and most Ultimate Joy which never disappoints. Yes. I have felt that sentiment. It is real. In my darkest moments and in my highest moments. Sometimes I loose touch with this Truth, but it's always there when I remember and reach for it again.

(Oh Jesus, please don't test me again on this commitment now that I've said this in front of all these people.) 

Fear or no fear, it needs to be said. He is my first Love. My heart longs to be with Him. It always has. From the very first moment I learned of Him. My passion only increases the older I get. Ever heard the words to that song on the radio?.... "everybody want to go to heaven, nobody wanna go now."

That's me. I'm longing to go... just not quite ready yet.