Up close, the image of this tomato plant doesn’t seem all that interesting, right?  It’s just a baby plant, with a few little blooms.

Except it’s October and fall weather has set in over the last few days.  #SummerIsMyFavorite

But when you look at this other photo, you see that it’s just randomly in my front yard.  The garden is around back.  It’s just this one lonely tomato plant.

But, this plant bloomed right where it was planted.

The circumstances may not have been perfect.  This plant may not really produce anything since it’s so late in the year and our days of 80s and sunshine are likely gone until next year.

But here it is.

Here.It.Is.

Over the last 25+ years of being a Mom, we’ve been thrown into some pretty frightening situations, namely, "Your baby is incredibly sick and there’s nothing more we can do". Or maybe, "We can’t fix _______, so this is life for the foreseeable future".

We deal with it.  Sometimes not in the best ways (I am famous for inappropriate humor, like telling the PCA at the hospital, who is escorting us to the surgical waiting room, that I’ll be here all week and I’m giving tours at 2pm.  She laughed.  But, still…the tension of the situation is just too much for me.)

I have fought a number of things with every fiber of my being…Hannah’s first trach…that had me a royal mess.  I really fought the gravity of her airway situation…maybe her whole life.  Because once the trach came out, we fought so hard to stay a face breather.  I wonder if I did a disservice to her.  Maybe I advocated for the wrong things.  

But, we found life again, even amidst a trach for the 2nd time (and a trip to Paris, equipment and all).  She’s done more and experienced more with a trach than would have ever been possible with her precarious airway situation prior to the 2nd trach.

And I ponder…what if we just bloom where we are planted?  Right here.  Regardless of the weather.  Or other diagnoses that come along (and they have lately).

Photo: Hannah Stoll

You see, blooming where I’m planted has allowed me to reach people that I would have never otherwise connected with.  Maybe they needed to see our journey.  Or experience a bit of it by stepping in and helping where they could.  Being part of our journey, not just a spectator.

I think about how many wonderful people we would have missed out on: nurses that have become family, connecting with other families in similar situations and bonding instantly because these other families “get it” in such a specific way because they live this life…the nursing issues, the surgeries, the inpatient stays, all the equipment, living on high alert because our kids have a piece of plastic in their necks to keep them alive.

And so, rather than spending my energy on trying to change the situation, I bloom where I’m planted.  And help my family do the same.

And if the Lord happens to place you in my life, I’ll do my best to help you bloom where you’re planted, too.

It doesn’t mean we stop advocating for our loved ones, researching for better options, connecting with others in the same/similar situations.

For me, it means that I accept life for what it is right now.  I’m not chasing things to “make life better”. Because honestly, we are in a good place medically, even with the addition of some new things.

Because, despite it all, I see miracles every single day.  Two teeny little babies who shouldn’t have survived at all, but did.  By the grace of the Lord.