When we moved into our Arizona home, we discovered a lemon tree in an obscure corner of the yard. At the time, it was full of green lemons. So, we waited. 

But it was growing over the fence and overhanging the neighbor’s path out of his yard. 

One day, he took a chainsaw to it cutting its limbs by half. The tree looked terrible, and the lemons still weren’t ripe yet. 

With the help of a landscaping company, we had the tree removed. Afterall, it wasn’t providing needed shade in the desert and there were also two grapefruit trees in the yard. Never having grown citrus, I wasn’t sure they would stay either. 

While the jury is still out on the grapefruit trees, I recently thought I wished I’d kept the lemon tree. It wasn’t in the way, was quite productive and we both like lemons way more than grapefruit. 

Having had this thought, imagine my surprise to discover that the lemon tree was growing back. 

All last year, I kept it underneath an old garbage can. Every now and then, I would see green growing at the can’s edges, and I would cut the tree back. 

On the advice of a landscaper, I treated the stump with Epsom salts to get it to stop growing. That did seem to do the trick as the stump stopped putting out new shoots. But the roots are another story. 

Since the roots are close to the surface, they’ve started putting out their own shoots. One of these shoots is a fairly good-sized, waist-high, new tree trunk. 

Suddenly, I felt invited into a different conversation with the lemon tree. One of rootedness, resilience, and persistence. 

Things have been tough lately. Groceries are increasingly more expensive; resources of all kinds feel fragile at best or just downright threatened at worst. Every da,y something changes. People I meet or speak with are grieving – death losses as well as life circumstances. 

This little lemon tree has invited me to consider life questions in a different way. What conditions call for tenacity? What is needed when the going gets tough and life seems uncertain? This little tree is well rooted – isn’t watered regularly and yet is surprising me with enthusiastic growth. It’s made me ask myself about my own rootedness. 

I am rooted enough to carry on when everything feels vulnerable. 

What things are you doing to stay connected to your roots in these tumultuous times? What actions are you taking to acknowledge your feelings? To hold them kindly and with great care. Staying rooted seems like one of many radical acts we can choose. 

Whether the challenge is grief, loss, or a difficult life transition, we can come alongside it and choose strategies that support us. Rootedness, rest, creative endeavors, kindness for our neighbors (even or especially those we don’t agree with), being in nature or simply reading a good book. 

This little lemon tree is inviting me to look more deeply at what makes me rooted. 

To live closer to the ground of my own being – look what God is doing for that lemon tree. Look what God is doing in life! 

As a grief coach I work with people navigating the spaces of loss. As a funeral celebrant, I join families in their worst days to co-create ceremonies of meaning. Making meaning is an essential navigational tool for moving forward in the messy emotions of grief. 

If you are coaching curious or simply needing a way to explore the questions of the moment, I invite you to sign up for the 45-minute Live the Questions offering. 

This is an effective way to learn about the co-collaborative process of coaching as well as gaining insight about your own grief needs and how coaching might support them.