Standing in my back yard examining the long-awaited first fruits of my potted lemon tree, I can’t help but feel a kindred-ness with these two tiny lemons born in containment.
We’re all feeling a bit ‘contained’ in this season of social distancing due to the corona virus. Planted in our separate homes, disconnected from family, friends, faith communities, work, the comfort of our normal routines—is it any wonder a lot of us aren’t exactly flourishing right now?
I take the lemons inside and grab a knife from the kitchen to slice through one, inhaling the tangy citrus scent. Smells like a real lemon, even if it does resemble a distant, sickly cousin of one. I give it a squeeze and, as I suspected, there’s not much juice and it tastes bitter even for a lemon.
Which again makes me think about this season we’re in: What kind of fruit is forming in me?
Lord knows it’s been easy to turn irritable, testy, impatient—anxiety and fear seem to breed plentifully in isolation and containment. They, along with restlessness and boredom, have made creativity, much less productivity, nearly impossible. Discouragement usually follows a lack of productivity for me. So, if I’m not careful I can isolate—creatively, relationally, spiritually—without even realizing it. I can get caught in my own feedback loop, listening to my own thoughts. Not exactly fertile ground for anything good to grow.
What I know about good fruit is that it comes from healthy trees planted in nutrient-rich soil. It makes sense that if my ‘roots’ stay connected to essential, vital, life-giving sources, my life will bear the good fruit of that connection.
When I get quiet, and allow my mind to rest in the underlying sense that things will be okay, I can carry that peace with me throughout the day. When I am receptive to the feelings of belonging and unconditional acceptance from God, it spills over to my loved ones. When I stay open to grace, laughter, beauty and so many other good things, I become a conduit for them.
Life happens in the flow—of the things we need to the places we need them. A surge of peace through our anxious hearts. The Spirit’s breath into our suffocating faith. The spark of creativity through our restless thoughts. It’s all there, the eternal current flowing beneath the surface. We just have connect with it—through prayer, meditation, worship, laughter, solitude, however we plug in. Otherwise, we get cut off from it. We become isolated, self-contained, from which no good fruit can grow, rather than conduits of goodness.
I don’t think we’re designed to live disconnected from what nourishes us, any more than I think my little lemon tree is meant to flourish in a container.
I think we’re meant to thrive like the tree in Psalm 1, “planted by streams of living water,” stretching our roots deep into the source of all love and life, “bearing fruit in its season.”
I hope this season teaches us to check our roots more often, making sure they’re not just skimming the surface, but reaching deep and finding connections to the underlying truths, light, and love in these strange days. If we can do that, I believe we can flourish, even in containment.
