Dirt, childhood, and growth
“A tree grows because it adds rings: a train doesn't grow by leaving one station behind and puffing onto the next.” C.S. Lewis.
As a child, I played on the laps of
two mountains. My siblings and I swam in the cold Columbia river, bailed hay,
and slept in pine-tree forts for entertainment. Sometimes, Mom would wash
dishes and look out the window to see her children crouched over the necks of
their careening mounts, some with saddles and some bareback, racing up the
driveway. She would stand on the front porch and greet her wild brood, holding
my little tow-headed brother who sucked his thumb and regarded us with
suspicion. Evidently, the situation seemed unstable to him.
All six of us, like arrows shot from
a bow, traveled in different directions. It's a part of growing up, I suppose.
And I also left the valley for about five years. But you always look back and,
perhaps, come back. Even though I learned to wear a business jacket and all the
paraphernalia that comes with it; sometimes, I wanted to wander down to the
river on a hot summer day and stick my feet in the cold river. This is our
secret, but I like the feeling of the river mud between my feet. And when I
passed by the maintenance guys at college planting petunias, I wanted to lay
aside my messenger bag, kneel down, and help them.
This is the soil that holds up my
roots; this is where I was born. For those who say that you need to grow by
forgetting your childhood, for those who tell me to travel to gain perspective,
I can only say that you don't understand growth. You don't cut down a tree and
expect it to grow bigger; you cut it down to make a building, a boat, or
something new out of it. I don't want to change who I am; I want to grow. A
strong tree buries its roots deep into the soil where God planted it and adds
layers of rings to itself each continuous year. I have seen trees that have
pushed their heads high into the sky, but their roots reached as far, if not
farther into the ground below.
My closest friends are the people
who love me in my torn jeans, in that silver evening dress, astride my horse,
with dirt stained feet, and business casual. My most trusted advisers are my
family. No matter where I go, I will love my family, and I will always keep a
garden just outside my back door. Now if you will excuse me, I have a yearning
to run across the field and wade in the cold mountain river bed.
