Rooted

I have a love/ hate relationship with March. This time every year, I get a little antsy. 

Adventure seems to call my name at every corner. I feel the need to up and go. To be spontaneous. To follow crazy impulses. 

I start imagining what it would be like to move to another state, or even a new country. My pulse quickens at the thought of a trip, at the sight of a suitcase, or the sound of an airplane. 

Everything- the wind, the radio, the books I read, seem to whisper, “Go, go, go!”

But due to commitments I'm exceptionally grateful for, I've got to stay

As cheesy as it is, I have to take a rain check on the open highway and my need to discover new places and stories. 

So instead of buying a one-way plane ticket, I strategize how I could rearrange all of my furniture. I wonder what new coffee shops and parks I could claim as my own. I dramatically change my hair style. 

None of these changes are bad. But when I step back, it seems to be the result of my inner discontent. 

That, my friends, can be a very bad thing indeed. 

Of course, there is such a thing as good, or holy, discontent- a birth inside of you causing you to change for the better. A new anger at social injustice. The strength to break from a bad habit. The courage to quit your comfort zone. 

But, dear ones, this is not the discontent waking inside of me. 

My discontent is taking a quick look at the beautiful life I’ve been blessed with, shaking its ugly head, and laughing. “This? This is enough for you?” It is sneering. Now, it’s beginning to dangle everyone else’s stories, adventures, jobs, and possessions in front of me. 

This discontent unroots you. 

It causes us to reach for things that will never belong to us, will never satisfy us.

I love reawakening to the sound of possibility, the music of adventure and what could be. 

But I hate how it makes me blind to the beauty of where I am. 

So instead of seeking out, I'm seeking in. 

Today, I did something new. I went to Home Depot and browsed the nursery. I admired flowers of all colors, shapes, and sizes. 

But when I stumbled upon the succulent section, one tiny pot caught my eye. 

The label reads, “Drought tolerant when established. Forms rosettes with white star-shaped flowers and bluish green leaves that blush pinkish-orange in strong light.” 

Who could imagine that my little succulent could one day form rosettes with bluish, pinkish, orange-ish hues?! 

And, it is drought tolerant—after it becomes established. 

I have zero plant knowledge whatsoever. 

But in order for this little guy to become established, it must be planted. It must become rooted in soil. It must make itself a home

And then, it can survive the heat and harsh of a drought. 

And it will flourish with the colors of the rainbow. 

I want to be like this tiny plant. 

And in order to bloom, to be miraculously beautiful, I must be planted. 

So I did what I never imagined I would do: I bought a plant.

I invested $2 in this little baby to remind myself to stay. To deepen my roots. To grow. To bloom.

Im declaring it, "Adopt a Plant Day," and also, "Choose to Stay Day." 

I'm harnessing these desires to make something beautiful right where I am.