All the ways you can bloom

I continue to think about blooming, which shouldn’t be surprising given the current stage our beautiful wildflower garden (see photo). In my last post, I talked about how you can bloom through rest and play, which I think is my preferred method of blooming. And of course, when we think of blooming, we usually imagine sunlight and stillness, soft petals and spring. And yes, some blooming does happen that way: in moments of rest, joy, or playful creativity, when our hearts feel light and our calendars finally give us room to breathe.

But it occurred to me that we can also bloom through other things as well, including expressed sorrow (grief/lament) because it keeps our hearts soft (we may not usually think of this as blooming!). Because blooming may not always be the beautiful spring flowers kind of blooming. It’s not always pretty. It’s not always peaceful. And it’s never one-size-fits-all.

To bloom is to unfold more fully into who you already are. It’s the process of becoming and that journey can begin in all kinds of soil.

So here are just a few of the ways its possible to bloom, if we allow blooming to happen:

When you stop hustling for your worth. When you let go of productivity as identity. When your soul finally exhales and finds enoughness in simply being.

When you step into delight. When you create without a goal. When wonder is welcome and joy isn’t postponed.

When loss breaks you open. When you feel the ache and still choose to stay soft. When tears water something deep underground.

When you learn resilience by living it. When hard seasons refine you rather than define you. When growth feels more like grit than grace.

When you’re seen and held without needing to perform. When love lets you lower your guard and come home to yourself.

When something beautiful flows through you. When you co-create with God. When you feel most alive in the work your soul was made to do.

When pouring yourself out connects you to something bigger. When giving isn’t draining, but deeply aligning.

When shame starts to loosen its grip. When old wounds begin to close. When you reclaim parts of yourself that were buried or silenced.

No matter the path, one thing is always true: Blooming happens when it’s safe to unfold.

And that’s exactly what spiritual direction offers.

It’s not about giving you answers or fixing you. It’s about creating sacred space to notice what’s already stirring. A place to pause and listen. To name your truth and be met with compassion. To explore joy, pain, doubt, and wonder without judgment.

In spiritual direction, there’s no pressure to be in a certain season. You can be in full bloom or lying fallow. Grieving or creating. Wrestling or resting.

Your whole self is welcome.

The director doesn’t point to a path and say, “Go bloom.” We walk beside you, gently noticing where the light is already reaching in. We remind you that blooming doesn’t mean forcing. It means becoming. And that becoming takes many beautiful forms.

You can bloom through rest.
You can bloom through struggle.
You can even bloom in the dark.

And wherever you are in that process, there’s space for you here.