When Growth Doesn’t Look Like You Thought It Would

Charisse Tierney ponders the mysteries of growth, which sometimes happens in quiet, hidden ways.

We are in a season of milestones. Graduations, concerts, and competitions all compel us to reflect upon the growth that has happened over the last several months. We find ourselves asking questions like, “Is my graduating senior ready to face the world?” and “How can I homeschool better next year?” and “What fruits did my church stewardship bear?”

We always hope to see growth in anything that we do. We always hope that we’re coming closer to our ideal. But sometimes our ideal remains in hidden elusiveness. Growth doesn’t always move in a consistent, linear progression toward the stars. Sometimes it seems to stop altogether as it works miracles in the dark earth beneath our feet.

I planted a rosebush a few years ago. It bloomed beautifully for a couple of seasons, and then, last year…nothing. I knew it was alive. It kept growing, and it was green with plentiful leaves, but not a single rosebud appeared all summer. I am not an expert gardener and ran out of time to research what might be going on, so I simply pruned it back in the fall and left it alone. I was pleased to see it looking alive and healthy this spring and vowed to fertilize it and weed its bed, but time again escaped me. I finally took a close look at it a few days ago and saw 50 to 60 perfect little rosebuds on it! In the midst of the weeds, in spite of my neglect, my rosebush holds the promise of bursting forth with a beauty unlike any other.

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This rosebush reminded me that sometimes a deliberate letting alone is what is needed for growth.

I teach piano lessons and was recently working with a young student who struggles with concentration. We worked on her recital piece for several minutes until I sensed the familiar restlessness settling in. The piece needed more work, but instead, I allowed her to choose another activity from some shelves in my studio. I sat back and watched as she traced and decorated some musical symbols with a dry erase marker. Her movements were slow and deliberate and a peaceful silence settled over both of us. After a few minutes, we talked about her finished drawings, and I encouraged her to play her piece again. She sat down at the piano, refreshed and focused, and played her piece better than ever.

In leaving her alone, she found it within herself to grow.

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Sometimes a deliberate letting alone is what is needed for growth. #catholicmom

Growth is a gift. It isn’t something I can force upon myself or anyone else. I can create an environment, plant seeds, and offer encouragement, but the growth itself is always a miraculous mystery.

As I watch this busy spring season swirling around me, I want to simultaneously stop the changes and push my children to hurry up and grow. But I’m learning to accept that my role isn’t always to be actively doing either one of those things. I’m learning when to gently nudge others along and when to step back and let the mystery unfold before me.

My children, my students, and my rosebushes are always surprising me. As long as there is life, there is growth—the Master Gardener sees to that. Sometimes we just have to get out of His way.