Roots

“As I put roots into the ground, every step I take brings more roots up to accept and welcome me in—into my heritage and into the woman I am slowly becoming, even in this very moment. These roots are embedded in the soil of who God is and who God has always been…we feel the mud pulse with memory. We feel the trees tell us stories…” (Kaitlin Curtice).

I had in my mind’s eye a sense of what this time of traveling together abroad for the first time as a family (until now, we’ve traveled all over the States with our 11 year olds) might be like—and it’s been a gift that I couldn’t have fully imagined. We’ve been fortunate to have gracious hosts and spectacular weather, and, despite some frayed nerves, have been a pretty amazing traveling team! We’ve had full days and leisurely days, planned itineraries and spontaneous discoveries. As the last week of this European trip spans before us, I have been thinking back on the insights I’ve gained through the eyes of our children and for myself. Here are a few, and I will continue to share more as we count up the days to Shavuot—happy 39th day of the Omer!-to our return to Dallas.

1. We are so interconnected and in the deep roots of humanity, we can find such a sense of the Divine. This hasn’t come only through delicious, sweet, sunny moments of indulgence or pleasure (although we’ve had quite a bit of culinary focus in each day!) — it’s been in seeing our children try to absorb the darkness of the past, the complexity of today, and the uncertainty of the future. We’ve had intense learning moments and discussions about the fate of Jewish children in Nazi Europe, the shifts in America and the world toward greater extremism, the struggle for peace and stability, the suffering of Israelis and Palestinians and all innocents who are trapped in cycles of violence. Navigating the intensity of raising children and keeping a moral compass steady is something we can’t do alone, and we are grateful for the people and places along the way that have deepened our efforts, while challenging us to continue to reflect and act wherever we are.
2. Each one of us can cultivate gardens. One doesn’t need to be an expert—start at the beginning with soil, water, and seeds of hope. We’ve mostly been traveling through urban landscapes, but just outside the city or throughout the pavement pathways, the historic sites and modern buildings, we’ve found such magnificent gardens. It’s been a powerful reminder that the scent of earth can be so calming and restorative to the weary soul, while the children run around in an open, grassy space, or we sit and read on a park bench, or stroll through gardens with bursting color. And certainly gardens come in so many forms, including art and poetry, kneading bread and song. Sometimes the beauty is in the asymmetry, sometimes in the simplicity, sometime just in the soulful effort.
3. And finally, for today, the pulse of memory is in every place and every corner of our earth. Often, we become so accustomed to the rhythms of our lives that the pulse becomes faint or seemingly irrelevant. During a pause—whether an extended sabbatical, or weekly Shabbat observance, or moments in any day—we have the opportunity to hear and feel and know with a greater attunement.