For four years, I watered my Dracaena trifasciata — better known as the snake plant — faithfully. It sat in the corner of my living room, quiet, steady, and green. What started as one small plant slowly grew into three, each one stretching taller over time. I nurtured it, repotted it, even propagated new growth from the roots. But I never saw a single bloom.

I didn’t expect one either. I thought snake plants were just that — plants. Leaves and roots. Strong and simple. Nothing flashy.

Then one spring, something changed. Just before Easter, I noticed a thin green spike emerging from the center. At first, I assumed it was just a new shoot. But a few days later, I looked again and, to my surprise, tiny flowers had begun to open. Clusters of delicate, fragrant blooms. My snake plant was flowering for the first time ever. I was stunned. I didn’t even know they could bloom.

Turns out, snake plants rarely flower. But, when they do, it’s subtle. No dramatic colors. No big signs. Just a single spike rising slowly and quietly, until it opens into something beautiful. In that moment, standing in my living room, I saw myself in that plant. There have been long stretches of my life when everything felt . . . still. Seasons when I was showing up every day — doing the work, caring for others, pouring into my goals — and, yet, nothing seemed to be “blooming.” No breakthroughs. No big changes. Just slow, quiet growth.

I’ve learned that “slow and quiet” doesn’t mean nothing is happening. Sometimes the most powerful transformation happens underground. In the roots. In the stillness. One of those seasons came when I stepped into holistic life coaching. This wasn’t something I ever saw myself doing. When I started, I had no roadmap. No proof it would lead anywhere. But something in me said: Trust the process. So I did.

Little by little, I began to see how the lessons from my own life — about patience, healing, relationships, and navigating transitions — could serve others. And before I knew it, what felt like a quiet beginning became a calling. Looking back, I realize the slow season wasn’t wasted. It was preparing me. My roots were growing deeper so I could hold more, give more, and grow stronger.

That’s what resilience has looked like in my life — not loud or showy, but steady. Quiet. Faithful.

So, if you’re in a season where nothing seems to be “happening,” I want you to know: Growth is still taking place. It may not look the way you imagined. You might not see the bloom yet. But that doesn’t mean it’s not coming.

Some blooms take time.
Some strength is built in silence.

And, some breakthroughs arrive not with a bang, but with a whisper.

The bloom will come, Sis. Quietly, beautifully, and when you’re ready.

What breakthroughs are you waiting for, Sis? What dreams or callings are slowly and quietly blooming for the new year ahead? Share your heart and tell your story in the comments!