Tending to an Orchid Is Like Tending to My Life Dreams

Three years ago, my mom gave me a beautiful orchid as a housewarming present when we moved into my husband’s childhood home (which was a matter of perfect timing—it went on the market 14 years after his parents moved out, at the exact moment we were looking to move).

What’s the opposite of a “green thumb”? Whatever that is, that’s what I’ve always had. My house has historically been where plants go to die. Even bamboo. I’m not sure why, but I never cared about learning how to take care of plants. But when I saw that orchid in all of its intricate, detailed, delicate beauty, against the backdrop of receiving it as a gift from my mother, who is one of the most important people in my life, something inside me shifted subtly. I wanted to care for it, maybe as a way to honor her and show her how grateful I was for the gift.

I looked up facts about orchid care and read that they go dormant, sometimes for long periods of time, but can bloom again with the right environment and nurturing. When the blooms fell off, I continued watering it, just a wee bit every ten days or so. I put it in the brightest spot in the house (my office). I watched and waited for months… nothing.

So I stepped up my game. I got a special orchid potting mix, repotted it into a bigger container so it had more room to grow, learned how to refresh the roots and make sure it was set up to succeed, and kept at it. Still, nothing.

Y’all, this poor orchid went through hell over the next couple of years as I stumbled through learning how to care for it. It lost two leaves. Once, a new stalk started to grow, and when I was rearranging my office, I dropped something and it sliced that stalk right off, along with a couple of the roots. Another time, a new stalk grew and even produced buds—”This is it!” I thought. But, no. The buds shriveled up and died before they even opened. Then, for over a year, again… nothing.

I noticed over the last few months that a new stalk was growing, and several buds appeared. I kept dutifully watering it according to the schedule and making sure it had plenty of sunlight. As the days got shorter and there was less light, I got some grow lights to help boost it a bit. I even started talking to it a little bit, saying nice things about it and encouraging it to keep trying. I was hopeful, but tried not to get too excited.

I realized recently that what I’ve been doing is loving and nurturing my orchid, seeing its potential while growing to accept it as it is. I also realized that this orchid was the door I walked through into a world of wanting to see if I could care for other types of plants. I started collecting and growing more “starter” plants: pothos, rosemary, catnip. To my own astonishment, I found myself… wanting to have a garden? What the hell was happening to me? I was softening, opening myself up to the joy of nurturing other living things. Learning from my mistakes and resolving to do better next time. Getting curious about what other plants I could grow and care for. Loving how my environment changed as it became more and more green. Forming a true connection with nature and feeling a sense of peace and fulfillment from being outside—which, if you knew me, you’d understand how huge of a transformation that was. Being outside used to be absolutely panic-inducing for me; I used to be paralyzed by my fear of all flying bugs and even falling leaves.

This morning, I walked into my office and saw that my orchid had a single, perfect, stunning bloom. I was so proud and satisfied that I teared up a little bit. I took a picture and shared it with my mom, sister, and husband. I showed it off to Carly Keydel on our morning meeting.

I’ve been thinking about this orchid’s journey all morning. As I started to write about it, it hit me:

Tending to my orchid is a lot like tending to the dream I am building with Human First. I had no idea how to make it happen, and have had to lean into being fully authentic and vulnerable in order to make sure that this company is a creation from my heart, based on the ultimate outcome I’m aiming for: to increase the connection and humanity in the world.

I’ve made mistakes—lost a few metaphorical leaves and sliced the stalks. But each time, I learn and calibrate. Every day, I feel more strongly about my belief that if we like ourselves more, empathy and compassion come more easily, which leads to greater self-acceptance, which in turn leads to greater acceptance of and love for other human beings.

Nurturing Human First has opened me up and softened my heart in the same way that caring for my orchid has. And seeing the bloom this morning felt like a sign that it might take some time, and there might be some stumbles along the way, but one day, Human First is going to blossom into something spectacular, unique, and beautiful; something that makes my little corner of the world brighter, more peaceful, and more loving.

What are you tending to that will one day bloom?