We grew up together - that tree and I.

My Grandpa dug up its tiny root system from Jackson Island and brought it home for my mom to plant in the front yard of our new house on Saturn Drive.

I was five.

If I remember right, the tree was about as tall as me then.

Every dog I've owned in my life has squatted on it and claimed it as territory. Every kid I know has attempted to climb it - then and now.

It was my favorite shady spot as I wrote stories about the funny little squirrel in its branches, who I named Cletus.

Most of all, it was a favorite meeting spot for me and Jesus.

My back rested on it as I cried after hard days at school, praying that I could just do mail order school or something (there was no internet back then).

Under its branches I spread out with my journal and the little blue Bible with my name on it that I got for Christmas.

We grew up together - that tree and I.

My Grandpa dug up its tiny root system from Jackson Island and brought it home for my mom to plant in the front yard of our new house on Saturn Drive.

I was five.

If I remember right, the tree was about as tall as me then.

We both stood like tiny sticks in a sea of grass, but It quickly outgrew me and then offered me a spot underneath it.

As its roots spread and deepened in the soil, mine did too.

Once I grew up, though, I stopped noticing it. As it grew and spread its branches across the sky, I forgot its magnificence.

Truly though, I return here today and realize just how much this tree and I have in common.

Our roots are here. In this soil. Our memories grow deep.

We've watched people come and go. Houses built. Roads rerouted.

We have weathered the seasons, the tree and I. And now - even though we both creak a little when we stretch - we remain.

We stand tall in the sun and reach for the glory of our Creator. Together again.

Just because I decided to really look at it today.

Oh, the beauty that exists when our eyes are willing to see it. Real life becomes mundane and it dulls our vision.

The sun rising over the horizon.

The bird soaring over the clouds.

The muddy footprints of a child discovering the great outdoors (even when they trek across my newly mopped floor).

We forget the wonder in the small, everyday things.

From the wild flower growing around the deck to the worm crawling underneath – each part of creation is special. That dandelion helps our lungs fill with air (photosynthesis) while earthworms are known to enrich the soil.

Plus, you can literally cut them in half and create two worms – which is cool, gross, and oddly economical. Just another way nature amazes me.

Simple things are significant.

They are a reminder that life doesn't have to be more than what it is, or greater than where we are, to find joy or discover peace.

Joy comes with a deep understanding that no matter what, we can trust in God - no matter where we are right now.

Just like that weird half-worm slithering in the mud (which Logan probably stepped on), we have a purpose and a plan. Because when He handcrafted you and me, He did it with great purpose in mind.

Today, God reminded me of the wonder of a relationship as simple as a tree.

When Grandpa dug up those roots, he never could have known that his great grandchildren would one day sit on its branches, but God knew exactly what he had in mind for that tree.

Just like He knows what He has in mind for you.

Maybe you feel like your being uprooted, but just remember that sometimes God is just ready to plant you someplace else – where He knows you will have plenty of room to grow.

So today, I challenge you to find what roots you. What is God nudging you to remember today?

It's there - just look around.