I’ve been growing tomato seedlings over the last few weeks and it’s been such a beautiful experience. It’s not the first time I’ve grown seedlings but as I found myself longing for the peace of living in the country, I decided to do what I could right here in the city.
So I pulled out the seeds I bought back in 2020—when I was actually living in the country—and I got to planting. Watching the seeds grow into sprouts and get their first leaves was thrilling. I was taking such careful care of these little seedlings as though they were my own children. Every morning I would walk into the kitchen with anticipation wondering how much they had grown overnight.
One morning last week as I was admiring and watering them my daughter pointed at the biodegradable container and said, “look, mold!”
My heart flew into my throat. I grabbed the container and turned it to where she was pointing and sure enough there was mold on the outside of it. I quickly scanned the rest and every single one of them had mold growing on the outside.
My hubby ran to the store to get different containers and new soil and I cleared my afternoon. Yes, dramatic, but I didn’t just spend six weeks nurturing these seedlings to have them killed by mold. I spent the next two hours carefully separating the seedlings from each other and transplanting them into new soil. Shockingly we caught it before any mold got into the soil. I watched them carefully over the next few days and to my surprise I didn’t lose a single one. Every one of my seedlings not only survived the transplant but are now thriving plants.
And then I burst into tears.
I thought that moving to Florida at the very end of 2021 was going to fulfill a lifelong dream of escaping the harsh Canadian winters. Instead, I found myself in the darkest emotional place I had ever been in up to that point. I tried to push through and smile for my family though because it was my fault we were there to begin with. We ended up needing to leave with basically no notice and for the last eleven months I have struggled with the events that led up to that moment and everything that’s happened afterwards.
Now that I’m approaching the one year anniversary of leaving, I can see that God pulled us out. He saw the mold creeping dangerously close to my heart and He transplanted us to safety. It was shocking—as all transplants are—and it took me a long time to come to terms with everything, but now that I’m beginning to thrive again I can see that I would have died there. I was already dying, I just didn’t see it.
There are times in life when you’re simply too close to something to see it for what it is.
Or to admit that it’s not what you expected and that if you stay, you’ll lose yourself. If you’re in that kind of season I urge you to proceed with courage. If the environment you’re in is toxic, you must walk away no matter the cost. If you stay, the mold will overtake you and your roots will die.
Trust that if the God of the universe, who adores you by the way, is transplanting you it’s because He has something much better for you. My little tomato seedlings thought they were perfectly at home and comfy in their little pots. They didn’t want to be moved. But they couldn’t have thrived in that environment. They couldn’t have expanded to their full potential. They needed to be transplanted to safety and into new soil that would strengthen their growth instead of suffocating it.
If you’re in a season of transplanting, give yourself grace. Treat yourself with extra kindness, extra love, extra nurturing. Let your roots grow deep so that you can flourish and produce incredible fruit. Because that, my friends, is what you were made for.
Meggan Larson is an award winning author (best selling on Amazon), course creator, wife, mom, and adoptee. She currently lives in Ottawa, Canada with her husband and three children. She helps women tell their beautiful, powerful, and authentic stories. You can connect with her at megganlarson.ca or email her at firstname.lastname@example.org