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Slow progress

Sometimes it’s hard to see the progress. But patience is the key.

A few weeks back, we had a friend come to visit. As we walked through the paddock garden, they pointed out a little back buds on two of our Proteas. To be honest, it was a slightly scary sight. Even I looked at the plant and thought, this lot isn’t looking good. The buds were dark and tight, and nothing about them suggested beauty or promise.

But I left them there.

When our friend commented, I replied confidently, “The flowers on these are pink and black.” I said it as a statement of fact — because I knew what they should become. Yet, if I’m honest, a small thought lingered in my stomach: What if they’ve died? What if they never bloom?

Gardening has a way of testing your faith.

Proteas don’t rush. They don’t respond to impatience. In fact, these particular flowers can take four to six months to reach full bloom. For most of that time, they don’t look impressive at all. They look tight. Dark. Almost lifeless.

But a few weeks on, I can now see the faintest hint of pink pushing through.

That small glimpse of colour feels like a quiet reward — proof that something has been happening all along, even when I couldn’t see it. Growth was taking place beneath the surface. The plant was doing exactly what it was meant to do.

Isn’t that often how progress works in life, too?

So many times, we doubt ourselves because we can’t yet see the “bloom.” We compare our beginnings to someone else’s full flower. We assume that because change isn’t visible, it isn’t happening.

But growth takes time.

Sometimes months.

Sometimes longer.

And just like these Proteas, we won’t be satisfied until we see the gorgeous flowers fully open. But that doesn’t mean the process isn’t working. It just means we’re still in the middle of it.

Over the coming weeks and months, I’ll be keeping a close eye on those buds. Not because I’m worried anymore — but because I’m learning to appreciate each stage. The dark bud. The first hint of pink. The slow unfolding.

Patience isn’t passive. It’s trust in the process.

And sometimes, all we need is a small glimpse of colour to remind us that the bloom is on its way.