The Very Worst Flower Farmer

Yesterday I wanted to quit. 

I was sitting on the ground between two newly planted rows of seedlings in the searing 95-degree heat. Sweaty, covered in dirt, and beyond tired, I was devastated. 

Earlier that morning, my farm helper and I had spent four hours planting hundreds of seedlings that we had nurtured for months, and now, they were withered beyond recognition.

The fault was mine, and I knew it.

After planting, I soaked the seedlings with water, forgetting that the relentless sun would heat up the water on the tender leaves and send them into shock.  Over the afternoon, the saturated plants had fallen over and dried to the fabric mulch. They fried on its hot surface. They were unsavable.  All I could think of was how this loss would put us months behind in production. 

I then deemed myself the very worst flower farmer.

I cried. Not just a few frustrated tears, but full-on, face in my hands, heaving sobs. The ugly kind of crying that completely guts you. 

Waves of emotion crashed over me, because this was just another event in a long string of circumstances on the farm that had me feeling completely out of control. 

And I do not like feeling out of control. 

Recently, I heard a well-known business coach say that the fastest way to figure out who you really are is to become an entrepreneur.  

I have found this to be true.  

Living your dream out loud and building a business from scratch is not for the faint of heart. While it can feel exciting and liberating, it also comes with a generous helping of vulnerability. 

I have so much to learn and relearn and learn again. 

We’ve had good growth in the business the first half of the year, but a series of setbacks has left us losing momentum.  

These events have left me struggling, because, whether I intended them to or not, they feel deeply personal. They feel like they are all my fault, because in business, they are. 

I suppose most business owners feel this way at some point, only people don't know it.

I have expectations about where I think I should be in my business at this point. And right now, I’m not there. And it hurts. 

After my pity party, I strapped on my headphones, turned on calm music, and took a long walk. Sometimes when I get so deep into my head, the only way to pull myself out is to think all the thoughts, pray, and walk until the sting of emotions subsides. 

As I walked, I remembered a conversation I had with my counselor about resilience. We talked about how some people can become completely sidelined by life’s circumstances, while others can move past them with ease. We decided it all comes down to how we choose to respond to the things that shake us. 

I like what Shauna Niequist writes in her book I Guess I Haven’t Learned That Yet: Discovering New Ways of Living When the Old Ways Stop Working:   “Resilience is, simply put, getting back up. It’s getting back up, not just after the first fall, but the ninth and tenth and seven hundredth. Resilience is feeling your exhaustion and choosing to move forward anyway. Resilience is watching your lovingly made plans fall to dust in your hands, grieving what’s lost and making (yet another) plan. It’s being willing to lay down your expectations for what you thought your life would be, what this year would be, what this holiday season would be, and being willing to imagine another way.”  

There are so many things I haven’t mastered yet. How tragic would it be if I denied myself the opportunity to let my failures mold me into something better? 

There is a part of me that is wildly hopeful about possibility and what could be, but it also means that I do not always see what is directly in front of me. I have trouble being in the present because I am so impatient for the future to arrive. 

For me, I know resilience is simply the courage to stay put.    Courage to look again for the hope that inspired you in the beginning. Courage to push through the pain while in the middle of it. Courage to put down your defenses and let what will happen, happen.  Courage to believe that this is all molding and shaping you into the person you someday desire to be. 

It is softly pushing new seeds into the ground knowing that you won’t see flowers for much longer than you had planned, but realizing there is still the hope of flowers.  It is asking for help when your only options are to live in scarcity with your pride, or in abundance with your humility.

It is quietly taking the “someday” off the shelf and replacing it with “today”, because that’s all we have anyways. 

It is changing our inner dialogue from “you should have known better” to “you will learn this in good time.”  

It is deciding that this time around, you are going do things differently. It is claiming the lies you tell yourself and replacing them with these truths:  You are capable.  You can learn.  You deserve to succeed.  Positive change happens when you get back up and try again.

On my walk, I also remembered that everything I have in front of me, I once prayed for. Everything I have gained has come from previous struggle and a steep learning curve. And help from others. I also prayed for wisdom and courage. It’s not ironic that wisdom is learned from experiencing foolishness and that courage comes from facing ourselves at our very worst. 

Funny how we gain fortitude by being gentler with ourselves.    What are your circumstances right now? Maybe you are like me and find yourself in a challenging season. Or maybe you have just come out on the other side of the struggle and are grateful for a reprieve.

Be proud of your resilience, even if it seems like a feeble attempt. Every small step forward is a another precious word in the amazing story you are writing for yourself. One day you will find yourself surrounded by all the fruits of your labor and these difficult days will be hard to remember. You will be glad you chose to keep pushing forward, because it will inspire others to do the same.

Beautiful things come when people choose to pursue the life they were meant to live.

I’m not sure how this season will end. I’m not sure what other challenges will come. But I do know that this dream is worth it, because it is my calling. The calling to pursue beauty and truth and goodness is so entirely worth it, even if it doesn’t turn out how I imagined it would. Maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised.    So for now, I'm going embrace the very worst flower farmer in me, until one day, maybe I won't be so bad after all.