It is a common saying among us coaches' wives. I used to think that we said it to ourselves and each other as encouragement to make the most out of what we've been given. As in, the job brought you here, so you might as well make the most of it.
It could possibly be because every time we've moved, I didn't want to go. Which, in turn, meant I didn't want to be where we ended up. So, I was looking at it through a negative lens.
Even once I was all for it and knew it was what was best for coach and his career, I still saw my progress as collateral damage.
I believed that every move stopped my advancement, and I was forced to start all over again—new seed in new soil. Here we grow again...
But that's because I had been putting my "seed" into a box. Yes, it might have been one of those fancy ones that take forever to put together and look fantastic in an Instagram post. But it was still in a box. It was still confining. It was still limiting.
I won't claim to know much about greenery. In all honesty, the only plants that I have been able to keep alive are the ones we planted for curb appeal when we were trying to sell a house. Otherwise, I have a black thumb. But the true gardener knows what He is doing.
I had fully bought into the idea that God was the one orchestrating our moves. After many years, I had been able to recognize that God had protected us with slammed doors and blessed us with unexpected open windows. But up until our third move, I only looked at the doors opened and closed in terms of being for coach's benefit.
It never even crossed my mind that they might also be for my benefit too. That is until we got to our current home.
If He can orchestrate a multiple-step scenario where our head coach gets fired, forcing us to have to look for new jobs. And miles and miles away, another head coach decides to retire, and the school promotes from within, opening up the perfect job for my coach. And because He had that team on our schedule that season, it allowed the new head coach to see my coach in action and appreciate all that he could offer in rebuilding the program, giving him eyes only for my coach…
Well then, why would it be hard for Him to align a family selling a house in a great school district and a neighborhood filled with amazing people and near a fantastic, supportive church that could revive my heart and my soul?
So, I started putting my "seed" in His soil. No limitations. No constraints. That way, if and when we move, I wouldn't be starting completely over. It was more like adding an offshoot to a well-established root system.
Now I know that if I don't put it in a box, then the potential is divine.
We all grow, whether we want to or not. It's just the natural by-product of living. Blooming takes effort and energy. But it also produces so much beauty.
Growth looks like showing up to the games, wearing the school colors, and cheering for the team, but you're not really affected by the outcome.
Blooming looks like knowing the boys by name, praying for their individual success on and off the field, and celebrating even the littlest of their victories.
Growth looks like making friends, participating in the community, and attending activities.
Blooming looks like turning friends into family and stepping out of your comfort zone, contributing to the things you used to just participate in.
Growth looks like saying hi and sitting with the other wives on staff during all the games.
Blooming looks like making sure all the new significant others feel welcome and seen. It also means going above and beyond to offer support, advice when necessary, and anything else to help get them through the next half, the next game, the next season, the next stage, etc.
Both will definitely involve growing pains, but blooming uses that pain to bring joy- to your area, the others around you, and even yourself. It changes your surroundings for the better by offering your own unique beauty.
So yes, you can grow where you are planted. But why do that when you can bloom where you're at instead?