I’ve always loved plants — there’s something quietly alive and hopeful about having greenery in the home. Plants are a gentle reminder that life is present, growing in the background, even when we’re busy or distracted. Besides, planting is an act of faith, a believe that life will grow, unfold in due season and under the right conditions

I must confess, though, that, I don’t always give them the care they deserve. That’s why I tend to choose hardy plants, ones that can weather a little neglect

“To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.” — Audrey Hepburn

Four years ago, I set out to make summer more meaningful — for myself and the kids. I wanted them to experience the simple magic of watching food grow, to see where fruit really comes from. So when I spotted a strawberry plant at the garden centre, I got it, knowing it was more than just a plant, it was a small beginning

For the next three years, this little pot sat quietly on my windowsill, offering up just a handful of tiny fruits each summer—three, maybe four, if the sun was feeling generous. Then, late last year, while clearing out the backyard, I decided to transplant it into a larger pot. I didn’t change the soil. I didn’t add any special fertiliser. I simply gave it more room. And without warning—without fuss or fanfar, it blossomed

Daily bowls of strawberries. Lush green, bright red. Unapologetically abundant!

I was awestruck. Not because I did something extraordinary
But because the plant had always had this in it
It just needed more space, more room to inhale and exhale —and spread its wings

Isn’t that how we are, sometimes?

We stay rooted in routines, in others’ expectations, in old roles and in environments that once served us—but no longer stretch us. We keep producing, just enough to stay hopeful, but not enough to feel full And somewhere deep down, we wonder:
Is this all I was made for?

But we’re not fruitless—we’re pot-bound
Limited by our containers and environment
Cramped by self-doubt, fear, or simply the season we’re in

Here’s what struck me most:
My strawberry plant didn’t become fruitful because I added something to it—it bloomed when I gave it more room.

Likewise, you don’t need to strive to become more. You just need to summon the courage to transplant yourself. This may not always be marked by loud announcements or dramatic moves
But by a new habit, a deeper truth, a bold YES, rest or boundaries. Or finally believing what God already said

This is the Revolution —not more effort, but room, capacity, stretch, for organic growth

So I say to You, take the leap to bloom

Where in your life do you feel pot-bound?

What have you outgrown—but stayed in, out of habit, fear or hesitation?

Maybe it’s time to transplant yourself—gently, bravely—into more spacious grounds
Not because you’re not enough,
but because you were always meant for more

Take one step this week
A new habit. A deeper truth. A bold yes

And trust that
What’s been dormant will take root downward and bear fruits upward

Share your thoughts in the comments or journal them privately—either way, don’t ignore the nudge.
You were made to flourish