​When Flowers Spring from Manure—Finding Beauty in Life’s Messiest Moments

I have learned a important gardening lesson that mirrors my philosophy on life’s unavoidable crap storms.
It goes like this: Occasionally, one must tunnel through heaps of manure before anything beautiful can blossom again. Because that soggy, stinky muck actually nourishes the soil, prepping it to cultivate new growth when the seasons turn.
We all deal with downright nasty pile-ups at times. Relationships disintegrating out of nowhere; jobs are yanking stability’s cornerstone brick as yet another reorg rocks companies. And sure, 2020 heaped unprecedented madness including viral dumps infecting every facet of existence.
Plenty of days still, when my strength sags, the static noise threatens to drown all reason, and I swear the crap avalanching down will bury me completely.
But then I remember - ah yes, this steaming mess means lush gardens await just over the horizon! By patiently composting today’s troubles, we fertilize new dreams. The trick becomes spotting tiny green tendrils poking up even as storms continue raging.
Because bright daffodil shoots often emerge while gray skies still linger. The sweet scent of jasmine on midnight’s breeze hints dawn soon stirs. And Cardinals warbling their springtime songs awaken frozen hearts to rebirth’s reliable rhythm.
Within each ringing alarm and overflowing calendar, beneath exhausting challenges and losses clawing hollow spaces - our spirits stir too, quietly planting possibility’s seeds. They'll sprout in time if nurtured by gentle hands that know the world forgets to bloom but never forever.
So take heart, friends! Wherever raging infernos ignite right now - this too shall pass. The burning actually fuels reforestation. Our shared soil lies ripe for restoration if we but sow healing’s first committed seeds.
The manure got us ready for blossoming. Now onward together - through the wild wilderness back to the wonder! 🌸