There is a little avocado tree in my yard.
It does not look like much to someone who does not know its story. It is not enormous. It is not dramatic. It does not announce itself. It simply stands there, green and alive, doing what it was created to do.
But I know something about that tree.
I know it survived storms.
I know there were seasons when the wind came hard. I know there were days when it could have broken, when the weather around it was too much, when the fruit was still too young and tender to be exposed to everything coming against it.
And still, it remained.
Not untouched.
Not unchanged.
But alive.
That has made me think about the women in this community who are in the middle of something they cannot fully explain yet. This is for the women starting over in midlife; and for every woman in her own quiet season of becoming.
When the Storm Comes for Women Starting Over
So many of us have lived through seasons that nearly took us down. We have stood through loss, disappointment, betrayal, exhaustion, change, silence, endings, and beginnings we did not ask for. We have carried things quietly while still showing up, still loving, still working, still taking care of what needed to be taken care of.
After all of that, we wonder if we are too damaged to become fruitful.
But I do not believe that anymore.
A woman does not have to be untouched by the storm to become fruitful.
The storm is part of what teaches her how deep her roots must go. The wind teaches her what cannot be shallow anymore.
The waiting season protects what is still too tender to be shared.
In those seasons, the fruit is there, but it is not ready yet.
And that does not mean nothing is happening.
It means growth is happening in secret.
What Grows in Secret
I have been learning that some things in our lives need protection before they need exposure. Not every dream should be announced too early. Not every change should be explained while it is still forming. Not every new beginning needs to be placed in front of everyone before it has roots.
Some fruit needs time. It needs shade and quiet. Some fruit must grow close to the tree before you place it in someone else’s hands.
And maybe that is where you are right now.
Perhaps something in you is growing, but it is still tender.
Possibly, you are a woman in midlife, rebuilding a life, a dream, a sense of self, faith, body, home, calling, or a future.
And, you are not ready to explain it to everyone.
And probably, you are still protecting it.
That is not neglect or failure.
That is wisdom.
There is a sacred kind of patience in allowing something to mature before you share it. There is strength in guarding what is still growing in you. There is courage in letting roots deepen before asking branches to carry more.
The little tree reminds me that fruitfulness is not always loud.
Sometimes it is quiet.
Hidden.
Still green, growing while no one else can see it.
But one day, what you have protected will be ready.
What survived the storm will feed someone.
And, what looked small will prove it was alive all along.
A Word for the Woman Growing Quietly
So if you are in a season where you are growing quietly, do not despise it.
Protect the roots.
Water what matters.
Give the tender things time.
Let the fruit mature.
And remember this:
You do not have to be untouched by the storm to become fruitful.
You only have to remain rooted long enough to grow again.