A while ago… our aloe plant was dying, and I didn’t know what was wrong with it.
I tried letting it dry out, I tried watering it, I let it have sunshine, and I kept it indoors, but nothing I tried seemed to help it. It had once been huge, but, leaf by leaf, the entire thing was destroying itself, it was perhaps half the size it had once been, and it was continuing to go downhill; where it had once given off tons of healthy baby aloe’s it couldn’t even take care of itself anymore. The leaves continued to either wilt out, or dry up, and I knew that if I didn’t do something drastic it was likely to die.
I didn’t know exactly what to do, but the soil wasn’t great so I uprooted it, a last-ditch effort to save the descendant of my great grandmother’s plants. It was root-rot, the formerly woody, and life-giving root had decayed to the point where I could have tied a knot in it if I had wanted to, and it stunk. I didn’t know exactly what to do, but I knew that if I left much rot behind, it would die; so I took a sharp kitchen knife and cut the rotted part of the root away, ultimately removing maybe half to two-thirds of the root. I gave it fresh soil and a touch of water and prayed for the best.
It didn’t bounce back by any means, it took a long time to recover from the shock of being repotted, and losing most of its root; even now, it’s not the same size that it once was, but it’s healthy… and it’s continuing to grow. The rot had ultimately been our fault; we had left it out in a rainstorm and it destroyed the root; but the solution had also, been pulled off by us. If we had chosen to ignore it, it would have died. If we had continued to act passively in our treatment, it would have died. It took an active, smelly, and messy, effort to let it heal.
Now, it’s possible that my symbolism is a little heavy-handed, but it’s also possible that you have no idea why I’m talking about a little aloe plant in the midst of such horrible tumult and pain; so I’ll elaborate, with the note that I’m not the wisest individual that I know, nor do I have any answers, or even any idea for how we should actually act upon what I’m about to say.
The air around my home is filled with pain, anger, and hurt right now. There is unrest to a level that I’ve never before witnessed, and a lot of people are speaking their minds more frankly then I’m used to. The air is thick with the death of George Floyd, the riots, and righteous anger. Among this, two facts have become abundantly clear to me; this isn’t just about a single horrible incident, it’s about a horrifically long history of incidents, hate, and hurt. And many people are focusing on the current affairs, and responses, not the history, and long-term issues.
This isn’t a matter of blight, brought on overnight, and taking over rapidly; this is a matter of root-rot, hidden from the surface until the destruction is made clear to everyone.
I’ve seen many people insisting upon using “All lives matter” in place of “Black lives matter” as I once did myself... until I realized that I was no better than the man who insists on screaming “Not all men” while women talk about their traumas. Please don’t misunderstand me, racism, and sexism are very different issues, just like ableism and ageism are; but viewing them in the same light, helped to bring a little clarity to me.
It’s not all white people, but that is no comfort to those who have been hurt so badly by those of a different race. So if you are tempted to yell, “all lives matter” may I suggest that your time would be better spent proving that fact? I believe that showing that we are safe and that we will love and stand for others is a much better use of time than complaining about how we feel singled out; especially when we are not the victims.
How can we fix this? I don’t know. How can we show God’s love to our neighbors who are being hurt? I don’t know. How can we try to rebuild and grow after so much pain and anger? I don’t know. I wish that I could end this post on a positive note, but I don’t have any answers. And as I’m not the one who has been harmed, I don’t feel that it would be right for me to decide what it will take to heal these wounds.
I don’t agree with the looting or the destruction all around us, but maybe, like that root-rot, it will be an outward symbol, a sign of the hurt in the hearts of so many, maybe, people will put on their gloves, and dig into the soil to cut away the rot; not to forget the hurt of the past, but to heal it. But right now, all I can suggest is that we try to help, and pray.
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