BREAKING OPEN THE ORDINARY

By Sandy Prather

To weather life’s storms, give your roots rain . . .

Autumn: it’s the time of year when good gardeners are busy in their gardens. Pruning, mulching, cleaning — there’s a whole series of tasks to prepare the plants and trees for winter. Included in these chores is that of deep watering. My neighbour and I were discussing the best way to do this. He uses a special soaker hose that allows the water to sink deeply into the soil. The deep watering in turn promotes deep root growth. Instead of the roots staying near the surface of the soil, grounding the tree only shallowly and making it vulnerable to drought and wind, the roots go deep into the earth. The tree is able to tap into a deeper reservoir of nutrients, enabling it to withstand drought. The deep roots also anchor the tree against wind and storms.

I was thinking of this the other day while walking with a friend. She is going through a difficult time and is struggling to maintain equilibrium. She said she felt like one of the “storm-tossed” ones that Isaiah speaks of (Isaiah 54:11), afflicted and buffeted by the winds and vagaries of life. As a faith-filled person, she is drawing deeply on God to find the courage to carry on.

In this, we are like the trees. We need to be grounded deeply in God if we are to withstand the storms of life. A shallow and superficial faith will not sustain us when the hurricanes of serious illness, broken relationships and shattered dreams smash into our lives. We will topple over if our roots do not go deep enough.

How do we do this, develop the deep-rooted faith we need to sustain ourselves? There is a lovely prayer/poem that says one needs to “Give your roots rain” (Sacred Spaces, Jesuit Communication Centre, Ireland, 2009). Part of spiritual wisdom is to know what it is that feeds your spirit. What refreshes and nurtures you? Each of us will have individual answers, but there are several our tradition suggests.

One way to give our roots rain is to take time to sit and think. We need to give ourselves permission to do nothing. A popular poster from a few years ago shows a close-up photograph of a snoozing puppy, its bulldog face all crinkled up, one eye half open, the other shut. The caption is, “Sometimes I sits and thinks; sometimes I just sit.”

We need both. We need to just sit and we need to take time to think. As a culture, we are oriented to being busy. To sit and do nothing is foreign to us. We are “doers,” always active. The moment we do get some time, we pick up our mobile devices and check our messages, update our status or switch on the TV. We are constantly on the move, with an eye on the next thing we need to do, too busy even to know what we are thinking. We are hardly present to our own life.

We need to take time to think. We need to sit, empty-handed, in silence for a length of time. We become aware of our breathing, of what’s happening in our bodies, of the sound of the silence around. We enter an inner place, a reflective place where we come face-to-face with ourselves and with God. Mystic Meister Eckhart, after all, reminds us that nothing is so like God as silence. We give our roots rain when we listen to the silence, letting it sink deep into us. Stilling the frantic pace of our bodies, entering into deep relaxation, is a gift many of us need.

We give our roots rain when we take the time to visit with a friend or friends for no other reason than to be with them. We are so results-oriented in our society that time for play, for simply enjoying another’s company, seems like a waste of time. Yet in the shared laughter or tears, the telling of our stories, in the profound listening that takes place between friends, we experience the richness of life. We give our roots rain when we re/discover our deep connectedness and the truth that we are not alone in this world.

We give our roots rain when we explore our creative side. We might be poet, baker, weaver, photographer or gardener. We might dance, sew, build or craft. The idea is to let the creative spirit within each one of us be free. Imaginations engaged, inspired from within, we tap into God’s very own nature, entering the timelessness of creation.

Finally, we give our roots ran when we sit with Scripture. The Word of God is a privileged place where God comes to be with us. As we sit with the Word, it soaks into us. We see things differently. We are challenged to a new way of acting. We are given strength and comfort. Scripture is meant to sink deeply into our hearts and spirits, transforming us and feeding us.

“Rain down your love on your people,” implores one of our eucharistic hymns. Like hungry trees, we seek the nourishment that will not only keep us alive but will allow us to thrive and bear fruit. In our often storm-tossed and even afflicted lives, we need to pay attention to how we do that. It is a gift to God, ourselves, and those around us when we take time to do the things that give our roots rain.

Prather, BEd, MTh, is a teacher and facilitator in the areas of faith and spirituality. She was executive director at Star of the North Retreat Centre in St. Albert, Alta., for 21 years and resides in Sherwood Park with her husband, Bob. They are blessed with four children and 10 grandchildren.