Bloom Where You Are Planted

I’m a planner by nature, I like order and structure. However, there are aspects of my life that I didn’t plan, didn’t see coming, and certainly didn’t pray for. 

As the seasons begin to change and spring emerges, I’m reminded of regrowth. Just as my dry, dead flower bed will transform into a beautiful garden, I too, can blossom despite whatever storm I’ve weathered. 

All flowers have to start in the ground, in the dirt. When seeds are planted, the outcome is unknown. The major factor in whether a flower blooms into something beautiful or not is the care it receives during the process of its growth. Despite knowing if my flowers will blossom or die, I still water them, I still feed them, and I still talk to them with the hope that they will flourish.

I have realized in my life that things won’t always go my way. When that happens, I have two simple options: grow or not grow. 

Regardless of the weather, I will bloom where I am planted. I will embrace the life I’ve been given and count my blessings because I know that rainbows come after storms. 

• I will drink plenty of water. 
• Get lots of sunshine with my beautiful children. 
• I will have meaningful relationships that will help me grow into the person that I want to be. 

This season, and every season I will do as the flower does. I will not compete with others around me, I will just bloom.

A Bereaved Mother’s Advice

I’m a member of a group I never intended to be a part of, I didn’t sign up for it, and I certainly don’t wear this title proudly.

I’m a bereaved mother, I have a child in heaven. While none of us ever asked for this, the reality is that here I am.

This month marks nine long years since I held my daughter. Nine years since my entire life changed.

In the years since that day, so much that I knew about myself has changed. I often refer to moments in life as “before loss” and “after loss.”

In this journey, the thing I get asked the most is what others can do for someone who has lost a child. And honestly, I struggle to answer that because the truth is, I don’t have the right words that will fix any tragedy.

There was absolutely nothing I could have done to save my daughter’s life. I begged and pleaded with God to let me take her place, but I’m still breathing instead.

While I struggle with the words to help a mother after loss, I’m hopeful that a small piece of advice might help mommas of living children.

Before the loss, I worried all the time. I worried about all things, no matter their size or my ability or inability to control them.

If my worries and fears as a mother could have saved my little girl, she would have lived forever. I worried all of the time. I worried about her safety, whether I was mothering her correctly, and I worried about how others saw me as a mother.

My worrying got in the way of making memories with my daughter. Sure, I made memories, but I wasn’t living in the moment. I worried and often took rain checks on moments that would have made me anxious. And when I was making memories with my daughter, I still worried.

Since her death, I’ve been blessed with three kids. As a mom, I still worry, but I don’t let it consume me. I won’t let it rob us of having fun or experiencing life. It’s different now. I learned how precious life is and how quickly things can change.

I think worrying is normal, I’d actually be worried if people didn’t worry.

So, if I were to give any advice, it would be this; don’t let your worry be bigger than your peace. Enjoy the moments that you have with the ones you love. Don’t let your past experiences hold you or someone else hostage.

-Kelli Turner