Blooming in the Messy Middle

What Would It Take for Me to Bloom?

There’s this beautiful verse in Hosea 14:7 that’s been sitting with me lately. It talks about a person who “blossoms like the vine” and “dwells beneath God’s shadow.” And I’ve been wondering… what would that actually look like in my life?

Honestly? For me to describe myself that way, something would have to shift—big time.

I’d have to slow down. Like actually slow down—not just take a few deep breaths and go right back to running on fumes. I’d need to unclench my jaw, stop white-knuckling my way through the day, and quit trying to prove I’m okay by keeping all the plates spinning.

I think I’d need to trust that God is okay sitting with me in the mess—before I get to the answers, before I find my footing again. That His shadow isn’t some reward I earn by being “good enough” or “faithful enough,” but a shelter that’s already been offered. A place I’m invited to just be.

And when it comes to blossoming? For the longest time, I thought that meant achieving something, always improving, always glowing. But I’m starting to see it differently. What if blossoming just means becoming more fully me? More honest. More gentle. More rooted in who God says I am—even on the days I feel completely off?

So what would need to happen?

I’d need to let go of the pressure.
I’d need to believe that being held is enough.
That rest is holy.
That the small moments—like whispering a prayer during stopped traffic, laughing at dinner, or crying quietly on the bathroom floor—might be the very places where I bloom the most.

Because maybe that’s what it really means to live a life under His shadow: not a perfect life, but a present one. One where I look up, breathe deep, and remember—He’s here. Even now. Especially now.

And that’s the kind of life I want. One that blossoms not by striving, but by surrender.