During the pandemic, my extended family – parents, sisters, cousins, and aunt – met weekly via Zoom. Any other year, we might only meet in person once or twice, but, like so many people, something about being told we couldn’t get together made us long to see each other. I’m so grateful for the tech savvy family members who hosted these online family gatherings and helped the rest of us figure out technology that had been at our fingertips all along.

On a good day, we would have up to 16 people all crammed into the little squares on our screens and the conversations could get a bit, well, unwieldy. So a couple of us tried providing some structure for our chats, like trivia games and birthday parties. I think we might’ve even attempted a virtual “talking stick.” My contribution was something I heard on a podcast, where the podcaster used “buds, blooms, and thorns” as a way to debrief the week with her family. Each person was invited to share a “bud” (something you’re looking forward to), a “bloom” (something good in your life right now), and a “thorn” (something that’s annoying or painful).

Seeing my roses begin to bloom in my backyard this week reminded me of our conversations and I started thinking what I’d share if someone asked about my life right now. I can always come up with a thorn. Thankfully, I’ve learned to reframe them. After all, thorns serve a purpose, beyond just being painful, and when my bandwidth stretches far enough I can appreciate (or at least accept) the protection they provide. Blooms are harder to come by, but I’m usually not too worried about them. I’ve always been an eat-dessert-last kind of gal, so I’m alright with delayed gratification. It’s buds – the promise of something to come – I long for most.

So, while I’m struggling to find any specific buds in my life at the moment, I’ve decided all of life is a bud right now. There is potential everywhere and even plain soil can be beautiful when I see it as fertile ground where something may someday take root and grow. I will work in my yard this weekend (in between the raindrops), tending to some literal buds and blooms as I ponder ways to prepare my metaphorical garden for what’s next. There is no better therapy.