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From a Pecan to a Majestic Magnolia

Today begins a new feature here on my blog. I’m not sure I have a name for it yet (my only goofy inclination so far has been “Show Me YOUR Roots” because I show you mine all the time), but I simply want to learn all about you and where your roots are. What made you start blogging and writing? At Blissdom we talked a lot about community and I want to foster that here. I’m hopeful this is a way to begin doing that.

My first guest is Jana Anthoine of Jana’s Thinking Place. I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting her in person yet, but I hope to someday soon. Her piece took my breath away and I know you’ll love it too. Please make sure to leave her some love.

Jana Anthoine of Jana's Thinking Place

Jana Anthoine is a half-witty Southern Belle who writes about life after loss and anything else she thinks anybody might care about at Jana’s Thinking Place. She is also the Vice President/Editor/Do Whatever Needs To Be Done Person at Band Back Together. She lives a semi-charmed kind of life in the big city of Atlanta and tweets incessantly about the funny stuff her kid does.

Root (n): a part of the body of a plant that develops, typically, from the radicle and grows downward into the soil, anchoring the plant and absorbing nutriment and moisture. (from
dictionary.com)

Root (n): a part of your soul that develops, typically, from life experiences and grows outward into the world, anchoring yourself and absorbing the life and love around you.
(from me, Jana)

I grew up in a small, Southern town, on a street that was in an old pecan
orchard. Every spring and fall, we were reminded of the roots of our
neighborhood with pollen and sap and the late fall arrival of the pecans. My
roots in small-town Georgia are as deep as the tap roots that hold a pecan tree
upright.

That tap root is significant in that my childhood and early adult years
were very narrowly focused. Attending private school where all your friends
were the same (race, religion, etc) and being surrounded by adults and children
who had essentially the same views on everything politically and socially was
just the way it was. I didn’t question it; surely everyone was just like this.
Right? I had one narrow root holding me on this earth.

College opened my eyes and widened the reach of my roots in a whole new
way. People were different colors, believed different things, loved different
ways. People were rich and poor, fortunate and unfortunate. People were kind
and people were evil. That tap root gained a few branch roots off each side,
further gripping the soil beneath my feet.

Marriage brought yet another view of the world. A world where life wasn’t
always rosy. Couples struggle at times, though most times are joyful.
Friendships with your spouse’s friends aren’t always easy. Working for a living
is tough stuff. Becoming (and staying) pregnant isn’t guaranteed.

With each revelation, more branch roots were grown, holding me tighter to
my truth.

In 2003, our son died.

Do you know what this felt like? It felt like a truck, going as fast as it
could down a freshly paved road and swerving to miss something in the road and
slamming into my tree, my world, and taking it out right here and there.

Do you know what the difference was from my early roots that were tap root-like? A tap root is a very weak root system. They are easily uprooted. Now my roots were firmly planted. They were fibrous and had spread out over the years, reaching out for nutrients and love and support.

When my world was rocked and uprooting was imminent, my tree snapped off at
the base, roots deeply entrenched in the earth.

In the nine years since Charlie’s death, new life has begun to sprout from the
still-living root system. Green leaves have emerged from the base of my tree in
the form of my son Henry, my new-found love of writing and new friends and
acquaintances I never would have known.

Now, instead of a Southern Pecan with a weak root system, I am more like a
Southern Magnolia. I stand strong and firm in the soil beneath my feet, held
tightly by a beautiful root system that even the most tragic situation can’t
take from me.

photo credit

Comments

  2. what a pleasure to read. I knew most of this already but to have it all in one place at Erin’s place is really nice. I thought this was going to be about hair caire, because I live with a bunch of women.

    BTW, you’re full on witty not just half. Good post.

  3. Love your wording here … 
    So true of life on focus, one idea, one world view – is inherently narrow minded and we need to spread out to be all encompassing to learn how to grow above ground (what we show the world) and below (where sometimes we hide our true selves)Beautiful post, and your story always brings me to tears.

    So excited for your new series here Erin xxx

    • Thank you so much. I would never consider how I grew up BAD, but I’m so proud of what I’ve been able to see and experience. I love that I was able to branch out from my roots and become ME. This series is going to be amazing, isn’t it? 

  4. What a beautiful start to a series. I look at my life and feel like the growth i’ve made just over the past ten years is so excelerated compared to the time before. While my experiences have been different, I can relate to so much of what you’ve expressed here.

  8. I love, love your analogy to the trees and roots. I’m so sorry you had to endure the events which led to the felling of your tree, but hearing new life is sprouting again is wonderful. Brilliant writing.

  9. This is beautiful. 

    Growing up in a pecan-filled southern town, I really related to your early tap root. 

    You are such the perfect person to be Erin’s first guest poster here – because your words are beautiful and strong, and your connection to plants and roots in real life made me smile. I’m going to always think of you as a magnolia tree, now. 

  10. This made me cry.  Your imagery was just beautiful, and I could feel your strength growing as you talked about your root system.  I am so sorry that you had such a tragedy in your life, but I am so glad you have found new growth from your loss and have the courage and strength to share it with us so beautifully.  Thank you.

  12. Oh, what a powerful, concrete comparison you have developed here, Jana.

    I am off to your place to learn more about you.

    Now.

  13. I am so incredibly sorry. I can’t even imagine that kind of pain.
    Your analogy is so perfect.

  14. Jana, oh Jana. I knew I liked you. Not only do your words tug on my heart strings on a regular day, but you just appealed to my inner dendrology nerd.

    Erin, I love this concept. Kudos to both of you.

  15. Just beautiful.  I have a lump in my throat and my yes are glassy. thank you.

  17. Oh my gosh I could not love this more. The tears are flowing as I type because I relate to this so deeply. That truck uprooted my life as well and as painful and awful as it was and still can be, I know it has made the new roots grown beneath me so much stronger. Many hugs to you Jana.

  20. Oh Jana, what a magnificent story of roots you’ve planted here. I love the way you’ve woven the trees of your childhood in with other life events. Writing is, quite frankly, something you excel at. I don’t know you outside of writing, but I imagine you are good at things you go for, but your writing really paints incredible pictures. I’m blessed to have crossed paths with you and to have the opportunities to experience your world view.

    <3

    karen

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