When I was young and found a love in writing, one of the many people I would write little letters to regularly was my grandfather. He and my grandmother enjoyed my childish viewpoint of how the world worked and the wonder that I showed them at even the simplest of things. As I grew into a teenager, our correspondence became more and more interesting and we developed nicknames for each other: I was Twiggy and they were Roots. I don't remember everything from our letters, but I had a deep love for my grandparents. They, in turn, taught me kindness, compassion, and respect for others. Most of all, we talked about God.
My grandparents were a different denomination than I was raised in, and while we were both still Christian faiths, the differences in how they were applied caused rifts between my parents and grandparents to a degree. My dad was a pastor and my grandpa was a reverend. As a child, I did not understand these differences because to me it was simple: we all love the same God, we all have Jesus to claim us... what else mattered? As an adult, it still saddens me to see conflict among Christians.
Sometimes I would discuss these things with my grandparents, and they explained once that even if people disagree, they can still love each other and communicate in a respectful manner. My parents never disrespected my grandparents or vice-versa, and they encouraged me to learn about other Christian faiths because they did believe that doctrine should not separate us from Christ. However, I believe the Lord was working on my heart to bring peaceful solutions to my family. Deep in my heart, a yearning for peace had been planted, nourished by a desire for a relationship of compassion and understanding, and the Lord let His face shine upon it in love. Our hearts are fertile ground for growth, and what we allow into it will show in our thoughts, words, and deeds.
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When I was 15, I heard the Lord speak to me, directly, for the first time. I had witnessed a distressing event at a friend’s home that sent me running to the security of home. When I arrived, it was late at night and everyone was already asleep, so I desperately prayed for peace, that my friend would be safe after I left (she wouldn’t come with me). As Jesus spoke those words of peace into my broken heart and mental chaos, I was never more aware of the fact that I was loved and would never be alone. Jesus Christ would be with me always.
Over the last couple of years, I lost both my grandfather and grandmother. I was blessed to be able to see them both before they left for their heavenly home and ask them to hold a spot for me. We talked about so many things they remembered from my little stories, letters, and phone calls. For a brief moment, I was little again. After my grandmother passed last year, my aunt found several boxes of letters and sent me some that I had written to them. “Dear Roots!” one salutation said, “We had class pictures this week and I wanted to send you my favorite one. I am in 5th grade now and picked my own clothes out. I made this scarf I am wearing. Can you send me a picture? Mom says I can call this weekend if you aren't too busy. Did Grandpa get a good message from Jesus for Sunday? Grandpa tells good stories, so I think Jesus would like to hear them. I know I do. Talk to you soon! Love, Twiggy.”
Through the roots my family had in our faith, I experienced a small amount of the fullness of the love God has for us. Keep growing, deeply rooted in the love of Christ, and let everyone see you bloom!
Roots and Twiggy by Betsy Gundersen was published in Gritty Faith: Rooted (c) 2024
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Betsy Gundersen is the co-owner of Golden Autumn Farmstead and the creative force behind Bizzy B's Soaps. Drawing inspiration from her faith, Betsy crafts each product with intention and love. She welcomes custom requests to accommodate allergies, sensitivities, or to create something uniquely special. Connect with her on Facebook and Instagram, or visit goldenautumnfarmstead.com to explore her offerings. |