A few months ago, I was meandering over a rugged lava field in Iceland. As I wobbled across the expanse of crumbled grey and black rock, I noticed this tiny fragile flower emerging.
Its seed had really landed in a tough place, I thought.
But it had light and it had water, and it found a way to lay down its roots even though it wouldn’t have the easier path of carving smooth lines through soft soil. After some time the seed had not only survived, it bloomed like it was always meant to be a flower of the rocks.
So many of us are working to build lives in the rubble of what we thought we’d have or where we thought we’d be. We struggle to understand the hows and whys and sometimes even cut ourselves on the shards of broken dreams. Eventually, though, if we can be still enough in the seat of ourselves, our roots will begin to grow– despite the pain that comes from being lost in the canyon that carved itself between our life as we expected it to be and our life as it is. And when those roots begin to tap, we feed, drinking in life from unexpected sources. And despite the rubble, maybe even because of it, we thrive.
It might not look the way you thought it would look. It might not feel the way you’d hoped. You may never get the soft soil you’d always wanted. But even rocks can be a beautiful place to blossom.