Bloom Where You’re Planted

The flowers in my yard have started to bloom. It’s been especially interesting since I had no idea what, if anything, was planted here. My current home was purchased in the middle of winter when everything was dormant. Most of it looked dead.

I left behind a yard filled with bulbs and bushes that I already knew so well. The daffodils would line the driveway in early spring. The azaleas would be a dazzling shade of pink in May. The peonies would bloom around the front porch. But here nothing was the same.

After another cross country move, I hung a worn wooden sign on my back deck stating, “Bloom Where You’re Planted.” For years it reminded me to appreciate where I was as I established roots and tried to share some beauty with the world around me. How was I going to bloom yet again in this frozen climate?

Have you moved recently?

Have you struggled to “bloom?”

Welcome to the club! According to data from the United States Postal Service, over 8 million people have moved since the pandemic began. While that might not be a huge amount compared to the overall population, it can be a huge change for you. Change is always hard, but the way we view change can affect our emotional health. The words we use have meaning and that meaning drives our emotions and how we feel about our situation.

There are two words we often use when we talk about moving, “transplanted” and “uprooted”. Were you transplanted or uprooted? What’s the difference? Does it matter?

When we talk about transplanting a plant it means we dig it up and move it from one place to another. It’s usually a good thing because it puts the plant in a healthier place where it can flourish. When I think of transplanting I think of the careful hands that gently dig around the roots and patiently place them into their new location. The soil is carefully pressed around the plant and then watered so that the inevitable shock will not overwhelm the plant. If you see your move as a transplant then you probably have a fairly positive view of where you are now. Perhaps you are enjoying a new view, a better location, or a better way of life that meets your expectations.

On the other hand, uprooting a plant is more like how a tornado uproots trees as it tears through the prairie. There isn’t much you can do to protect a plant from the storm’s destructive force even if you can see it coming. In its wake, there are trees and plants on their side with the roots exposed. If they aren’t put back into the ground they will wither and die. If this describes how you feel about your move, perhaps the move wasn’t what you chose and now your way of life has changed. You feel displaced and torn away from traditions, customs, and everything familiar. You long to go back to what was.

So how do you keep from feeling like an uprooted tree and more like a tenderly transplanted rose?

Here are 5 things that have helped me:

1 – Keep the mementos that matter.
Make sure there’s room in the moving truck to bring your favorite chair or the vase that brings you joy. In the stress of moving it’s easy to forget that those things will help your new place feel more like home.

2 – Keep routines that were working well for you.
If you went for a walk every morning or planned your week on Sunday afternoons, try to duplicate those things. You can appreciate the new view while still enjoying the routines that you’re familiar with.

3 – Don’t bring the garbage with you.
Let go of past failures, including projects you never finished. They’re just taking up valuable space that can be used for better things. If you learned something from those mistakes then move forward with the new priceless wisdom.

4 – Don’t over-inflate the past.
Your new acquaintances don’t need to hear how much better life was before you moved or how the sports teams always won where you came from. Let them tell you about what’s great in your new location and then have fun exploring with them.

5 – Embrace the new and unfamiliar.
Look around and see what’s available in your new area. Be a tourist for a day, a week, whatever it takes. It sounds simple, but sometimes we spend more time thinking of the things we have lost than we do in finding out what we have gained.

Now that it’s spring, I’ve discovered that my yard is not dead. And while I don’t have azaleas and daffodils around my new home, I do have a Korean Lilac tree that smells divine. There are also some orange Lillies and variegated hostas on the side. And over time I will find a place for the roses I love.

My move may not have been the most tender transplant experience, but I can see that there is a possibility to bloom where I’m planted. And whether I see it as being transplanted or uprooted, it’s up to me to choose my words and change my point of view.