In other words, I am grateful for a love that is lasting, deep and wide.
Roots make all the difference. Unless you have grown up in a rural area, it might be hard to understand the deep roots some people feel to a community. A connection not to a town or city, but to the people.
There are places where people know their neighbors and care about them. There are people who will put their priorities aside when another is in need. In today's world of social media, people might be touched by a "Go fund me" story, but in tightly close knit communities, there are real relationships and people walking beside those who are in need or hurting. Not at the onset of the trial... but through the fire and the restoration process.
I grew up in that kind of community. One that cared about our widows and their children. When cancer or health issues hit during harvest... men and women arrived with tractors, trucks, wagons and whatever was needed to get the crop in and out. Why? Because that is what it means to be neighbors. What is a neighbor? Pretty much everyone.
Hallmark movies always seem to capture that small town connections that come from "deep roots". Now, in real life... the endings are not always happy. Truthfully, when life is the hardest... the people that walk with you, stay with you and share the sad times are priceless gifts. It is even better when they stay until the good times return. Deep roots matter. Families who share life, history, moments and memories generation after generation.
The Lindgren, Rosenboom, Wade, Hanson, Peters, Kleinert, Jacob, Wilken, Meier, Frake, Widholm, Schafer and Kelch have been friends and neighbors for many generations. Our parents grew up together... and in some cases... our grandparents. The values of family, hard work, faith and community continue to echo for generations.
We shared weddings. Everyone was invited to local wedding dances by a sign at the grocery store. We were never alone in deaths, fires, new babies, bumper crops or droughts that devastated. It was the good stuff. It still is.
People who make fun of small town living don't know what they are missing. We had the best of both worlds. Chicago less than an hour away to play big and wide open spaces and fresh air at home.
When I was a kid, most of the trucks in the student parking lot potentially had guns and knives but no one would consider bringing them inside, unless requested by the principal to take care of a few birds in the gym during lunch or some wild, sick animal that was on school grounds putting students at risk.
I think country living revealed and aided my understanding of God's love. The quirks and imperfections of our people endeared them to us and us to them. We all have quirks. The community watched out for those who couldn't quite take care of themselves... or did little things to help them along.
Ask someone from Clifton if they knew "The Judge" and watch them smile. Emmett Walsh was a precious elderly man. Not a judge. I am not sure how he gained the moniker, but that is how we knew him. He loved to share his tomatoes and his smile was contagious.
There is a vulnerability that comes with knowing and being known by another. It involves trust. It makes me think of this verse:
"Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is." -Ephesians 3:17-18
He will make his home in our hearts as we trust in him. Deeply rooted. Deep and wide.
Today, I am grateful for deep roots and a love that is deep and wide.
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