”For everything there is a season … a time to plant” Ecclesiastes 3
A few days ago, I loaded up my truck with petunias and impatiens — two of my favorite flowers I’ve been planting for decades. It’s one of my favorite spring rituals, following weeks of preparation — power raking and fertilizing the lawn and freshening the flower beds and garden with new mulch.
As I unloaded the flowers from the truck, I thought of those timeless words above from Ecclesiastes and how important it is to keep planting new seeds through every chapter and challenge of life:
- After the loss of a loved one.
- After a major setback or disappointment.
- After a relationship that didn’t work out as we had hoped.
- After an illness that compromised our independence.
- After retirement or those moments when the identity we once carried no longer fits who we are becoming.
Scripture is filled with rich imagery of seeds and soil that beautifully describes the condition of the human heart.
Sometimes our lives feel like hardened soil — packed down by pain, regret, or fear — leaving little room for anything new to grow.
Other times we’re in rocky soil — wanting to move forward, but where old wounds and grief prevent our roots from going deeper.
And sometimes we live in thorny soil, where the weeds of anxiety and our endless “what ifs” choke off our inner peace.
But Scripture also reminds us there is fertile soil within each of us — where roots grow strong, healing takes hold, and something beautiful can still emerge even after our most difficult seasons.
I’ve lived in all those soils. Over time I’ve come to believe that tending to our inner soil is truly the work of a lifetime — one that can be enriched through prayer, gratitude, meaningful relationships, and people who nourish our spirit.
And sometimes our soil becomes more fertile when we finally let go of old stories we’ve carried far too long:
- Believing we are not good enough.
- Believing a past failure will always define us.
- Believing our best days are behind us.
- Believing God has abandoned us.
Those self-limiting beliefs deserve to be turned over just like we do with the old soil every spring — mixed with fresh perspective and renewed hope.
So maybe that’s our invitation this season: to reflect on the condition of our own inner soil.
Where in my life have I become hardened? What rocks are preventing deeper roots from taking hold? What weeds are choking off my inner peace? What new seeds might God be asking me to plant?
Because no matter how old we are, I believe something beautiful is still waiting to grow.
Wishing my clients, fellow coaches, and friends a happy and fertile planting season,
