Chiiiile, Please!

Today I am off from work and I woke up excited to be able to enjoy the day. I received an email that some changes had taken place on my credit, so now I am in full investigation mode. I gathered my stuff and went outside so I wouldn’t wake up my girl. I handled my business and got everything sorted out. I stayed outside to read my book (in the final chapters) and so much came flooding to me at one time.

This final portion of the book brought me to tears because I am realizing that we are the most beautiful creation of God’s masterful work. Our bodies are a direct reflection and connection to life. I wish I had the profound words to say to share with you what my heart feels right now. Full is what comes to mind. When I sit back and recognize that the tree is the life expression of our heart, I am now more understanding that we are embodiment of God’s word. Oh how I wish I could write this how I feel it.

Father guide me through this!

You ever look at a tree and realize it knows more about God than some of us do? I mean really look at it. A tree can’t fake being rooted. It can’t force fruit. It can’t bloom off vibes alone. It has to be planted in something that can hold it.

And the more I thought about that thing, the more I felt God whisper:
So do you.

Chiiiile.

That thing hit me deep, because so many of us are out here trying to bloom from broken ground. Trying to be loving, peaceful, patient, joyful, clear-minded, and whole while our hearts are carrying rocks, weeds, drought, old hurt, unforgiveness, fear, disappointment, and grief we never got the space to name. Then we wonder why we feel tired in our bodies. Why our chest feels heavy. Why our nervous system stays lit up like a house with every light on. Why rest feels hard. Why softness feels unsafe. Why peace feels unfamiliar.

Because the heart and the body talk to each other. Clearly they always have. What’s crazy is that we don’t pay attention to these things until we are in a space of needing change.

What lives in the heart does not stay in the heart. It spills. It travels. It settles into the body. It shows up in your breath, your posture, your sleep, your digestion, your stress, your tears, your silence, your fight, your shutdown, your smile that says “I’m good” while your body is screaming, “Girl, no you’re not.” And somehow, we have been taught to separate what God joined.

We treat the spirit like one thing. The body like another. The earth like a backdrop. And the heart like some private storage room we only open when we are falling apart. But God does not work like that. God is consistent in His design.

Look at the earth.
Look at the trees.
Look at the soil.
Look at the rivers.
Look at the seasons.

Creation is always preaching.

A tree flourishes because of what is happening beneath it. Not because it looks good above ground. Not because it mastered performance. Not because it learned how to appear alive.

It flourishes because its roots are drawing from good ground.

And baby, so are we. Our hearts are ground. Our bodies are the living evidence of what that ground has been holding. Our lives are the fruit.

That is why scripture tells us to guard our hearts. Not because God was giving cute advice for a wall decal. Not because He wanted us to become cold and suspicious and emotionally unavailable in the name of wisdom. But because He knew the heart was a wellspring. A source. A holy place. A growing place.

What gets planted there matters.

If shame gets planted there, it grows. If fear gets planted there, it grows. If lies get planted there, they grow roots. If bitterness gets watered long enough, it spreads. But let the truth of God get down in there? Let His love get down in there? Let His peace touch the places trauma sat in like unpaid rent? Let His word break open the hard ground in you?

Oh, something starts changing. Not overnight. Not in some fake, polished, “three steps to healing” kind of way. But for real.

You start breathing different.
Responding different.
Carrying yourself different.
Not because life got easier, but because your roots got stronger.

And I think that is what we miss sometimes. We want fruit without cultivation. We want peace without pruning. We want softness without surrender. We want to feel alive while resisting the very process that brings life. But the earth does not resist the process.

The soil receives. The seed breaks. The root reaches. The rain comes.
The wind comes too. And somehow, by the grace of God, life keeps pushing up through dirt.

That’s us. That is literally us.

I hope that you are able to resonate with this and feel this to the core. That this is sparking something within you to see life, yourself, your life from a different set of lenses.

Some of us have been buried by pain, disappointment, abandonment, betrayal, heartbreak, motherhood, burnout, survival, grief, financial pressure, church hurt, family wounds, and the silent exhaustion of always having to be “the strong one.”

Buried. And still, there is something in us reaching for light. That right there is holy. Because buried is not the same thing as dead.

Let me say that again for the woman in the back, the front, and the one pretending she does not need this at all:

Buried is not the same thing as dead.

Seeds are buried too.

Whew. The flow is flowing and my God……

Some of us have been judging ourselves for being in a season where everything feels underground. Hidden. Unseen. Quiet. Slow. But underground does not mean God is absent. Underground does not mean nothing is happening. Underground is where rooting happens. Underground is where strengthening happens. Underground is where what will one day hold fruit is being formed.

And that brings me back to the body.

Because just like trees respond to the condition of the soil, our bodies respond to the condition of the heart.

When the heart is anxious, the body feels it. When the heart is wounded, the body carries it. When the heart is constantly bracing, the body stiffens. When the heart is safe, the body exhales. When the heart is nourished, the body settles. When the heart is healed, the body starts to trust life again.

We are not machines. We are not meant to override ourselves forever.
We are not called to perform wellness while our inner world is malnourished.

We are creation too.

Made from the earth. Animated by breath. Held together by the Word.
Responding to spiritual laws that show up all over nature if we would only slow down enough to see them. The tree needs soil. The soil needs care.
The heart needs truth. The body needs peace. The spirit needs God.

It is all connected.

And maybe that is why healing cannot just be mental. It cannot just be inspirational quotes. It cannot just be saying “I’m over it” while your body still jumps every time something feels familiar to your pain. It cannot just be reading the Word without letting the Word read you.

Healing has to get into the ground. It has to reach the heart.
It has to touch the body. It has to move through the places where you learned to survive but never got taught how to rest.

Because good ground changes everything.

Not perfect ground.
Good ground.

A heart that is open to God. A heart that is willing to be turned over.
A heart that is willing to say, “Lord, show me what has been planted here that does not belong. Show me what I have watered out of fear. Show me what is choking me. Show me where I am hardened. Show me where I need rain.”

That kind of prayer will shake a life up. But in the best way.

Because God knows how to work with land that has been neglected.
God knows how to restore what was trampled. God knows how to revive what looks dry. God knows how to pull beauty from places that have seen too much.

That is His thing, actually. He makes gardens out of ruins.
He brings water to deserts. He calls dead things back into alignment.
He speaks life where everybody else already gave up. Including us. Especially us.

So maybe this is the question today:

What is growing in your heart?
And what has your body been trying to tell you about it?

Because the fruit in your life is not random. The exhaustion is not random.
The tension is not random. The peace is not random either. Something is always being grown. And I do not know about you, but I want my heart to be good ground. I want my inner world to be able to receive what God is saying. I want my body to become a place that feels safe to live in. I want my life to bear fruit that is real, not staged. I want to be rooted in something deeper than mood, performance, pain, or pressure.

I want to live like a tree planted.

Steady. Nourished. Flexible. Alive.
Unashamed of my seasons. Unafraid of being bare when God is doing winter work. Unafraid of being seen when it is finally time to bloom.

Because that is the beauty of it all.

The same God who tends the earth tends us. The same wisdom that governs seedtime and harvest governs healing too. The same Creator who made roots reach for water made our souls reach for Him.

We are more connected than we think. To God. To the earth. To our own bodies. To the truth hidden in creation.

Chiiiile, your heart is soil too.

So tend it gently. Tell it the truth. Let God pull weeds there.
Let Him soften what life made hard. Let Him plant what heaven recognizes.
Let Him water what you thought was beyond saving. And then watch. Not overnight. Not all at once. But watch.

One day, what felt barren will bloom. What felt tight will loosen.
What felt buried will rise. What felt broken will become ground that can hold life again. And baby, that kind of growth? That kind of healing? That kind of blooming?

Only God could do a thing like that.

Take inventory of your heart, your heart posture, and what’s happening around you, in you, on you. The work isn’t easy, but well worth it in the end!