This past week, I took a walk through one of our newer fields—the one tucked just behind the greenhouses, where the dirt feels a little softer and the trees cast longer shadows as the sun dips low. I wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, just following a hunch and a little tug in my chest that said, “Go.”
The rows had already been planted, and tiny leaves were just starting to push up past the plastic, still a little shy under the weight of the world. I stopped and crouched down to look closer—those first few sprouts always look so brave to me. They don’t know what the season will hold yet: storms, wind, scorching days. And still, they rise.
It reminded me of how we show up in Spring, year after year. We plant. We plan. We hope. And we do it all again, not because we know the outcome, but because we believe it’s worth it.
Out here, you start to realize that growth doesn’t always look like progress. Sometimes growth is hidden beneath the surface. Sometimes it looks like pausing. Sometimes it’s messy and quiet and doesn’t post well on social media.
But it’s real.
And real growth—whether it’s in our fields, our families, or our faith—requires a whole lot of trust. The kind of trust that doesn’t flinch when things don’t look promising, or when the numbers don’t line up. The kind that says, “Let’s plant anyway.”
This season, as we walk these rows and water these fields, I’m reminded that the work we do here is about more than harvest numbers. It’s about showing up with faith. About believing that life is still breaking through, even when we can’t always see it.
So whether you’re planting something in the ground or something in your heart this season—trust it. Keep showing up. Keep tending. Because new life always finds a way.