I’m still learning to be more patient, trusting that things take time. I often catch myself wanting to rush the process — wanting ideas to arrive fully formed, projects to take off immediately, relationships to deepen overnight.
I know better, of course. I’ve seen it in the garden. I’ve planted seeds and watched how they take their time, how they stay hidden beneath the surface, gathering what they need before they’re ready to push through the soil. And yet, I still find myself waiting, wondering, worrying: Is anything really happening?
And yet, not every seed germinates. Some stay dormant, never breaking the surface. I know this is just part of the process — but it’s still hard not to wonder if I did something wrong. I feel that way about ideas too, about the projects that never quite take off, the connections that fade before they have a chance to develop. It’s easy to see them as failures, but it’s possible they were just not meant for this season. Maybe they needed different conditions, or maybe their purpose wasn’t to grow at all, but simply to be planted — to remind me that the act of trying, of beginning, is worthwhile on its own.
There are the seeds that thrive easily, they don’t ask for much and show up quickly. I always seem to be able to count on sweet peas and sunflowers to do this. And maybe that’s the key. While I wait for the more stubborn seeds to grow, I need to focus on the ones that are easier to nurture. They serve as a reminder that growth is happening, even if it doesn’t look the same for everything.
As I tidy up the garden after its busy summer, I can feel the change in the air — the seasons are shifting, and we’re about to move into the slower, colder months of winter. The seedlings will grow slowly, but I know a lot of life can happen over a few months. As I think about how I want the garden to look when spring comes, I can’t help but wonder what else might have changed when the soil begins to warm again.
I’ll keep working on trusting that the seeds I plant — whether in the garden, in my work, in my life — are doing what they need to do. That even if I can’t see it yet, something is shifting. Growing. Becoming.
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