This summer, I borrowed tools from my mom and brother and spent several days edging my sidewalk–and by edging, I mean digging it up.

You’ve seen it done more easily–a landscaper, walking along a sidewalk, maybe, a weedeater upturned in his hand. They don’t require the edger, flat shovel, snow shovel, giant bucket, and more than 10 hours to do the job. It took me so long and required many tools because my sidewalk had been buried for many years. When I started the task, there was a small sliver of pavement to walk on. The rest was grass.

The fact is, I didn’t care to maintain this sidewalk because it was still functional without the extra work. It was walkable. People walk past my house many times throughout the day. The sidewalk works fine. However, if you’d ask me if the sidewalk was optimal–no, it was not. Truth be told, curb appeal is a big factor in whether or not you take pride in your home. Our curb appeal was suffering.

How did we get here?

Five years into owning this home, we’re looking around at many aspects of the 102-year-old house and asking ourselves: how did we get here? Any homeowner knows that houses are like cars and relationships–if you don’t maintain them, they’ll cost ya!

No one has done the work regularly to maintain the sidewalk in front of my house, or no one has had the tools to do so. What’s beautiful about this (other than my now-awesome sidewalk) is that I discovered something that had always been there. I just had to keep digging.

 “There are two sorts of curiosity – the momentary and the permanent. The momentary is concerned with the odd appearance on the surface of things. The permanent is attracted by the amazing and consecutive life that flows on beneath the surface of things.” -Robert Wilson Lynd

The grass, weeds, and soil were all momentary. This covering built up over time as the weather battered my yard and completely covered what was originally underneath. It’s the same way nature will take over any road, walkway, or railway. If no one digs them out again, they will disappear beneath the surface.

What’s below the surface?

Since my dad was diagnosed with late-stage rectal cancer this time last year, I’ve experienced some of the worst days of my life. For the first time in my life, I understand what it means to not want to leave my bed. One day, before he passed away, I confided in an online Bible study group that I felt like there was poison inside of me. What used to be a beautiful light deep inside me felt now like a dark sludge. Where I used to feel like I brought life and light to any room or situation, I felt like I poisoned everything I touched.

As I began digging up the turf on my sidewalk not even realizing how big and beautiful the walkway was underneath, I thought a lot about this. If my dad were around, he’d be out there in the sun, pulling up the roots and scooping up the dirt alongside me. So, as the hours ticked by, I thought of Dad and of what it was inside me that I needed to dig through. Only in digging through all the muck from the last year can I truly find what’s underneath. It’s not poison. It’s not dark sludge. It’s me.

It’s who I am.

Underneath all the trauma that has battered me this past year, there is the truth of who I am. I am a daughter. I am the daughter of a man named James who was my hero, my biggest fan, and my first love. I am also the daughter of the Most High God, the Holiest of Holies, the Creator of the universe. No matter what pain and sadness I endure or what kind of heartache is piled on top of me, the truth is the same underneath–I am known and loved. I am a daughter. That is a beautiful truth that can shed light on everything I touch.