The Harvest That Wasn’t

Imagine the farmer that heads out, and the crop is empty.

Fuck.

I put in the hard work.

I put in the energy.

I did my absolute best.

And have seemingly little to show for it.

That hurts.

That stings.

To the parents out there, how many relationships have you invested in that didn't seem to yield what they should have? Or how many tireless evenings with the kids, only to have them cranky and complaining the next day?

For my entrepreneurs, how many long work nights, burning the midnight oil, and not a paycheck to be found?

For my healers, how many sessions where you have given your heart and energy, and they come back complaining about “the pettiest” things?

Sometimes life doesn't give us back what we think it should.

And that is usually followed by a good ol' F-bomb, resentment, bitterness, frustration, and the incessant shaking of one's head.

Head down.

Back to the farmhouse.

Seemingly empty-handed.

And PART of that story is essentially true.

The part that we can see, taste, touch, or interact with in the physical world?

Yes.

100% true.

What We Don't Account For

But what doesn't generally get accounted for?

The learning that was done in the seasons.

The lessons learned.

The appreciation of the opportunity.

The numerous interactions that were pleasant.

The sweat.

The tears.

The hours of caring and tending, just on hope.

The courage expressed.

The resilience built.

The tenacity driven into.

The focus required.

The human expression unleashed.

That, rarely, if ever, takes center stage of the story.

What Was Being Built?

The human mind, our software, seems to be built to notice threat and what's being destroyed, interpreting that as what's not working.

And for very good reason.

But to its detriment, it can lose track of what is being built.

What is being strengthened.

What is being learned.

What is FULLY being experienced.

Maybe the harvest wasn't empty after all.

Maybe you were so busy looking for the crop you expected to grow, you missed the person who grew while tending it.

And sometimes, that was the harvest all along.