Slower Work, Deeper Roots

What's growing in garden and soul

May 13, 2025

The older I get, the more I’m convinced that good things take time.

I recently concluded a two-year fellowship with the Paul Ramsey Institute at the Center for Bioethics and Culture—a season of study, prayer, and conversation that asked much of me and gave more in return.

The questions we carried were not light ones: What does it mean to live well, to die well, to bear responsibility in an age of technology? These are not questions one hurries through. I hope to offer some of that fruit in writing soon, and I’ll share links to new pieces here when they’re published.

In the meantime, most of my days are given to the quieter, slower work of the garden. Dirt under my fingernails. Chickens scratching under the fruit trees. Something green pushing up through straw mulch. The garden has become my school of patience again this spring. And as I watch the seedlings reach upward and the weeds return like clockwork, I’m reminded that waiting is its own kind of work. Maybe even its own kind of hope.

If you’re feeling hurried, I’d offer this: not everything fruitful can be forced. Much of what matters begins in hidden places. Seeds wait underground. Ideas take root in silence. And some of the best work we’ll ever do—parenting, healing, praying, repenting—doesn’t come with fast results. I return again and again to the words of Teilhard de Chardin on this—whose most influential essays, incidentally, were not published until after his death. Talk about patience.

I’ve started filming little glimpses of that life—just a few minutes at a time—and gathering them on a YouTube channel called Grow Where You’re Planted. It’s a simple collection of days in the garden—nothing fancy. Just glimpses of tomatoes, trellises, and the worth of staying put.

And because the lines between the soil and the soul blur more than I ever expected, there’s also a new writing project beginning to sprout. I won’t say much yet. But like the best seeds, I’m trusting it to grow in the dark awhile. Thank you for walking with me through these seasons.

What are you growing this season—or rather, what is the Lord growing in you? Let me know in the comments!

AMDG,

Samantha

Beyond the Page

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