Right Roots

The tap dripped ceaselessly, playing out a persistent rhythm to a song only it could hear. Each crystal tear fell in perfect time, down onto the weathered paving slab where it broke and splashed and spread. Seeds blown from winds long forgotten came to life, and began to stretch out roots, limbs and leaves.

And where nourishment was found, life flourished. New plants, grounded in cracks formed by roots grown strong, began to spread their own leaves to catch the sun and soak up the water. Insects of all kinds sheltered, safe in the knowledge that they would not go thirsty. This miniature oasis of life, found in the corner of a garden patio, was satisfiably resplendent, and renowned in its own way, to its own inhabitants, for its riches.

And then came the day when the tap was tightened, and the supposedly ceaseless drip…stopped.

Nobody really noticed at first. Rain still fell, after all, and there were still pockets of carefully collected droplets contained within curled leaves. But when these reserves were gone, the plants could not sustain their own strength. And so the community began to shrink. Initially it was just the creatures that seemed to move away, although they visited with hopeful regularity to see if anything had changed.

Next came the down-sizing. This was hardest of all, especially for a plant as proud as the first. It had flourished under that blessed drip, stretching almost as high as the tap itself. Despite clinging to the wall in its early days, it’s tender stalk had thickened into something more akin to a trunk and allowed it to push away from its stabiliser and gain independence. New leaves had grown on all sides, but this now meant it was vulnerable. There was no way back. As much as it tried, there was no hope.

It died.

In the final moments as it looked back on its life it remembered the days when the sun had shone and the water had been plentiful. It remembered the company it had kept, and those it had sheltered. It remembered the early days of finding firm foundations, and it remembered the mistake it had made when it chose its home.

How easy it was in those early days to believe that everything was okay. How easy it was to see now that it was not. For it had chosen to rely on the wrong source. It had made the wrong choice. True, it had seen fruit. True, there had been good times. True, it had helped others. But the source of life was wrong.

Every day we make a choice. I choose to tap into the source of creation, the one who set the very stars in motion; the author of the laws of science. I choose to take my lead from the foundations set out in the Bible. And though there are times I’m not sure what is going on, I trust the source of my life, for it is good. And it never ends.

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