I’ve been thinking about roots and wings. Not roots you pay your hairdresser to cover up, or wings you slather with buffalo sauce, but roots and wings we need to anchor and launch us in life. The kind we need to give to the people we love.
I’m waxing philosophic these days because my youngest son is getting married. Today, as a matter of fact, if you happen to be reading this column on the day it’s supposed to come out. Occasions like this tend to bring on fits of parental soul-searching.
Did we help our kids grow deep, strong roots? Did we live before them honestly enough, consistently enough, faithfully enough to show them what it means to be tethered to truths that hold when the fiercest storms of life blow in?
The leaves on a tree get all the glory, but life comes from the roots.
It’s easy as parents to focus on the leaves–ability, talent, appearance. It’s harder to tend to the root system–heart, character, spirit. But that’s where real life comes from. That’s what endures.
“Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it spring the issues of life.” (Proverbs 4:23)
Roots.
And, did we give our sons wings? Did we live before them joyfully enough and freely enough to inspire them to soar when circumstances conspire to pull them down?
I’ve read that eagles don’t frantically flap their wings. Rather, they gracefully and powerfully mount up to heights where they can glide on thermal air currents.
On the other hand, a friend of mine described watching a sea gull attempt to fly against the strong winds of a tropical storm. No matter how hard and fast that poor bird flapped, he couldn’t make any headway. It was all he could do to stay suspended in the same spot for a little while. He eventually gave up and let the howling gales sling him out of sight.
It’s easy as parents to unwittingly teach our kids that life is about flapping hard and fast. “Opportunity” can so easily turn into busyness, noise and exhaustion. Constantly rushing, constantly doing, constantly striving to achieve and attain.
I think we’re meant to soar, not flap. To “go placidly amid the noise and haste…,” as poet Max Ehrmann wrote. To know what it means to be still and know that God is God. To dial down the noise, look upward, and locate the steady, strong currents upon which we can soar.
“Yet those who wait for the LORD will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles ….” (Isaiah 40:31a)
Wings.
We gave our sons plenty of things that don’t really matter. More than once, I drove 60 miles to buy my boys a new video game the day it hit the shelves. We logged countless hours driving to ball games and sitting on bleachers. Drum lessons, Disney World, camping trips – we ran the whole parental gauntlet.
It was good and most of it was fun, but on days like this, when our son is turning a huge page in his life, it isn’t the mouse ears from Disney World or the basketball trophy he needs.
He needs roots and wings. Something to both anchor and launch him.
We’ve done our best to give him that, knowing all the while that whatever we had to give was at the same time vital and inadequate.
Every child needs more than a parent can give. They need to know Jesus.
Only His foundation is unshakable; only His truth sets us free.
Roots and wings. On days like this … and every other day.
“My son, if your heart is wise, my own heart also will be glad…” – Proverbs 23:15