Dear Friends,
Last Sunday’s torrential downpour reminded us here at Northwest that we have a few leaks in our roof, as a folks dashed around strategically placing small wastebaskets over damp spots in our Lobby. The rain that day also let me know that my own 1930s-era house might need some attention, as we discovered that water had backed up through the drain in our basement.
The plumber that came to my home on Monday afternoon to inspect the trouble brought with him a device that consisted of a large spool of cable with a camera on the end of it. As he snaked it more than 50 feet under the house, the front yard, and finally to the curb, he point to a small monitor attached to his spool. Every few feet the camera traveled, he would exclaim, “See that? Those are tree and plant roots that have grown into tiny cracks in the pipes. That’s your problem.”
I learned that old pipes like ours are made of terra cotta, fitted together with concrete. While they’re still doing the job of transporting water away from the house and into city’s drain system, the trees and plants in my yard have been doing their jobs, too . . . growing downward into the soil and right through my drainage system to find moisture and nutrients.
My plumber says my solution is to replace the pipes. He left me with a cheery good-bye and a pricey estimate to consider. I’m none too thrilled about the prospect of a major construction project in my front yard. But along with my discouragement is admiration for the persistence of these little roots. Over the years, they haven’t been daunted by clay or concrete to find what they need to sustain life. They’ve carried on.
Persistence, it seems, is like that . . . a long journey, inching slowly forward, pushing through seemingly impossible barriers. Where do we find the will to keep moving forward? Like roots deeply seeking water in dark soil, I believe we know there is something life-giving about the struggle that keeps us going.
Yes, it looks like it may be time for new pipes. My yard will get dug up. New pipes will get laid. It’s going to be a big job. And, when it’s done, I imagine that the roots will begin their journey once again.
They’re pretty tough, so I trust that they’ll keep going and growing. May we do the same.
Yours,
Terry