Inspired by Psalm 1
My mind has never been a quiet place.
It wakes before I do, already moving through conversations that haven’t happened, roads I may never travel, possibilities God has not asked me to pursue. I have often mistaken movement for growth.
I know how to be busy. I know how to fill a day with things that matter, even things that carry the name of God, and still somehow be thirsty.
Perhaps roots do not grow where everyone can see them.
I keep looking for fruit, for something I can point to and say, There. God is using me. The wandering wasn’t wasted. I am becoming who He called me to be.
But trees don’t seem concerned with proving themselves. They don’t count their leaves or compare their branches. They simply reach downward.
I am learning downward.
Through years I would rather rewrite. Through prayers I abandoned and roads I chose because they seemed easier than remaining still. Somewhere beneath all of it, there was water.
And now there are moments when everything inside me stops. The noise quietens, the questions loosen their grip, and for a few precious minutes I am not trying to become anything.
I am simply with God.
Then a thought arrives. Then another. A plan. A possibility. Tomorrow. Suddenly I have travelled a hundred miles without leaving the chair.
So I return.
Again and again.
Perhaps returning is part of being rooted.
I don’t know what season this is. Maybe there is fruit coming. Maybe this is still the season of roots. Maybe some things will grow long after I stop checking the branches.
I only know that after all my wandering and all my noise, I have found the water again.
Or perhaps the greater truth is this:
God always knew where I was.