Growing an orchid successfully is emotional.

I’m being overly dramatic, but I am more excited than I thought I’d be to have one thriving on my kitchen counter.

I killed the first orchid given to me after the birth of my daughter. (Classy)

Mother’s Day (aka great husband) brought me an orchid. (And a tiny bit of panic as I thought of the first one.)

So there we were. I looked at the “how to keep me alive” tag and put it in a sacred place in my kitchen so I could refer back to it, um, every day.

Water once a week. But don’t over water. And this is the perfect kind of light it needs. And then transplant. (I think to myself – impending death #2.)

But full steam ahead. I play to win. Let’s do this!

AND.WE.HAVE.

I have 6 full blossoms staring me in the face, another on the way, and the makings of another 4. The orchid gets more awkward by the day because that’s the nature of an orchid, but it makes my heart skip a beat to know I’m giving that thing life and the environment it needs to thrive!

And I can’t help but think – are we giving diligent to give people the environment they need to flourish?