90: I Did Not Lose the Roots

For many years, I lived intensely in one direction.

I worked very hard.

I built a great deal.

And I sacrificed many things.

Whenever we choose something seriously, we also choose not to pursue many other possibilities. There are interests we never explore, places we never go, relationships we do not have enough time to deepen, and parts of ourselves that remain largely undiscovered.

For a long time, I rarely thought about this.

I was busy growing.

But eventually, life became quieter.

And in that quieter space, I began noticing things I had not paid much attention to before.

I became curious about different worlds.

I began learning things simply because they interested me, without knowing where they would lead.

At times, I wondered whether I had concentrated too much of my life in one direction.

But slowly, I began seeing the past differently.

Yes, I sacrificed many things.

But somehow, I did not lose the roots.

The people I love are still here.

My faith is still here.

My health is still here.

The habits and values built over decades are still here.

Perhaps these things were growing quietly all along.

For much of life, we naturally pay attention to what is visible above the ground.

What we accomplish.

What we build.

How far we progress.

The responsibilities we carry.

The contribution we make.

These are the branches of life. They are visible, measurable, and often important.

But underneath them is another kind of growth.

Years spent with family.

Friendships maintained.

Faith quietly deepening.

The body cared for.

Character shaped by difficulty.

Values tested through experience.

These things rarely attract much attention.

Roots usually don’t.

Then one day, the visible part of life may change.

Our bodies change.

Something we built is handed to someone else.

Or perhaps we simply reach a point where we no longer want to keep expanding in the same direction.

That can initially feel like loss.

But when the noise becomes quieter, we may discover that we are not standing on empty ground.

There is already an enormous root system underneath us.

We are not starting again from zero.

When we explore something new, we bring decades of experience with us.

When we become beginners again, we bring old discipline into a new world.

When one identity becomes smaller, relationships and values that have quietly survived may suddenly become much more visible.

Perhaps this is why new branches can sometimes grow surprisingly quickly later in life.

They are new, but they are not rootless.

This gives me a more integrated way to look backward.

I do not need to regret the years when I concentrated intensely on building.

Those years created something important.

They also required sacrifice.

Both can be true.

I worked very hard.
I built a great deal.
I gave up many possibilities.

But somehow, by grace and by choices made along the way, I did not lose the roots.

Now perhaps I do not need to force the same branches to keep growing.

I can trust what has been growing underneath.

I built intensely in one direction for many years, but fortunately I kept the deepest roots alive.

Now those roots are allowing entirely new branches to grow.

Different branches.

Same roots.

Perhaps a much larger tree.