Growing Roots in Desert Places

Going from a numbing negative four degrees Fahrenheit to sweltering high nineties, I landed with a mental thud back in our country of service. Of course, the air conditioning in our van is currently not working, adding to the general feeling of sweaty yuck whenever errands take us outside for longer than thirty minutes. I knew it wasn’t working, but in the excitement of finally getting to take that furlough, I’d temporarily forgotten my carefree, “we’ll sort it out when we get back” attitude.

Well, we’re back and I’m melting. But I know that even though doing things here can often feel like working at a snail’s pace, eventually we’ll manage to find a mechanic. It will probably take several trips to the parts store, and I’m sure it won’t be a job that’s finished in a day—or even, realistically, in a week— but at some point we should be back to normal.

I also know that even though we are currently in the hot season, it won’t last forever. In a month or so, there should be a bit of relief. I know this because that’s the rhythm I have found to be true over the last nine years of living here. Yes, re-entry has been rough at times. I miss consistent running water and play dates with cousins, but I have learned how to manage living here: mainly, to lower my expectations of what I can do in a day when temperatures soar. My kids miss their cousins, but they are excited to catch up again with friends here. I’ve put down roots now, and those roots get me through the bumpy days.

For me, growing roots has not only meant leaning into my Bible study group, where I can honestly share how I’m doing, but also going to Jean’s Cafe on a hot day and ordering an iced chocolate. It has meant tapping into resources like the Velvet Ashes retreats and monthly membership and watching an online sermon when my brain needs to hear teaching in my heart language. It means building a family away from family. I start to feel rooted when going to birthday parties, funerals, and weddings, and inviting friends to celebrate our family’s birthdays, even when those celebrations look different than they would in my passport country.

“Let us not become weary,” Galatians 6:9 says, “in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (NIV). This verse got me through the toddler years with my son, and it’s a great anthem for cross-cultural work because I often do feel oh so weary and uncomfortable. I often do want to give up. But, as I tell people, this life is such a mix of unexplainable hard mixed tightly together with unexplainable joy. Being rooted, grounded, and immersed in the life that is before me keeps me here on the days when I would gladly accept a one-way ticket back “home”.

As hard as it can feel some days, this has also become home. My transplanted soul continues to spread roots—I can speak the local language now (well, at least one of the languages). I don’t always agree with the culture, but at least I understand it more. Friendships, beautiful friendships, have grown from barely being able to communicate to being able to have heart-to-heart conversations. Those roots sustain me.

Even though it can be slow, we have seen fruit in our ministry. Lives both physically and spiritually have bloomed. His word, sent out, has not returned empty. It has produced fruit and prospered as Isaiah 55:11 promised it would. Without the roots of knowing that all of this does matter in eternity, I’m not sure I would have stayed this long. As we get ready to hit our ten-year anniversary of living here in just a few months, one thing is certain: a slow growth, strong roots, constantly adapting, and an often ruthless pruning back of what isn’t most important has kept me here. One day at a time. It’s bitter and it’s sweet. It’s ruthless and amazing. It’s hard and incredible. Yes, we came with the goal of helping to change mindsets and helping people grow spiritually. As we have done that, as my roots have burrowed into this often-unfamiliar ground, I have grown. My mindsets have changed. I have come to know God in a deeper way, and I have seen sides of him that I had not seen before. He has pruned me, scooping me up from what felt more comfortable and allowing me to grow. Not every day has involved flourishing, but each day my roots grow deeper and deeper, nourishing me when life feels particularly hard. I am here, for now at least, my transplanted soul resting in my Father’s capable hands. He has good plans for me, so I will take heart in deserts and gardens.*

How do you stay rooted, especially on the hard days? How has living cross-culturally changed and grown you?

* “Good Plans” by Red Rocks Worship