Where do we go from here?

Who are you becoming... and where are you planted?
In this episode of Still Standing, we explore the journey of finding your identity beyond the expectations, labels, and roles life places on us. Sometimes we spend so much time trying to fit into spaces that were never meant for us that we forget growth begins with healthy roots.
Through personal reflection and a simple lesson from the garden, we'll talk about the importance of being planted in the right environment, embracing the season you're in, and trusting that growth doesn't always happen the way we expect.
You were never meant to become someone else.
You were always meant to become more of who you were created to be.
Come as you are. Leave a little lighter.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:18

If nobody's told you this today, I'm really glad you're here. Welcome back to Still Standing. I'm Adrian. Last week we talked about something that's been weighing on my heart. We talked about identity, about how easy it is to introduce ourselves by the roles we play instead of the people we are. I shared with you that I'm still trying to find the answer to the question: who is Adrian? Not the mom, not the business owner, not the partner, just me. And when I finished recording that episode, I remember sitting in my car thinking, okay, now what? It's not one thing to realize you don't know who you are anymore. It's another thing to figure out where you go from there. And that's what I want to talk to you about today. Where do we go from here? I've always loved having a plan. Give me a calendar, a checklist, a vision board, a five-year plan. I love knowing where I'm headed. I like certainty. I like having a destination. But life, life has taught me that plans are beautiful until they're not. Sometimes life says, I know you plan to go left, but we're going right. Sometimes relationships change. Sometimes dreams change. Sometimes careers change. Sometimes our health changes. Sometimes we lose people we thought we'd have forever. Sometimes we wake up one morning and realize we're living a life we never imagined. Not always in a bad way, just different. And I think that's where a lot of us get stuck. We're waiting to feel certain before we move forward. We're waiting until we have all the answers. We're waiting until we're not scared anymore. I've done that. Maybe you have too. But here's what I've been learning. God really gives you the whole map. He usually gives me the next step. And if I'm honest, sometimes I wish He'd just hand me the GPS. Tell me exactly where this road leads. Tell me how long it's going to take. Tell me everything that's going to work out. But that's not how faith works. Faith says, take the next step, then trust me with the one after that. One of the places God teaches me the most is in my garden. If you listen to my first couple episodes, you already know how much I love gardening. I only think it's one of the ways God speaks to me. Because gardens don't rush. You plant a seed and then you wait. You water, you pull weed, you protect it. You trust it. You don't dig it up every morning to check if it's growing. Because if you keep digging it up, you'll kill it. The lesson hit me one day because I realized that's exactly what I was doing with my own life. Every day I was asking, am I growing yet? Am I healing yet? Am I where I'm supposed to be yet? Am I enough yet? And maybe I was digging up the very thing God was trying to grow. Growth is quiet. Roots grow in the dark. No one applauds roots. Nobody posts pictures of roots on Instagram. We celebrate flowers. We celebrate harvest. But the roots, that's where the real work happens. And maybe that's where you are right now. Maybe nobody sees your growth. Maybe you don't even see your growth. Maybe you're growing roots. Maybe you're becoming stronger underneath the surface. Maybe this season isn't about blooming. Maybe it's about becoming steady enough to bloom later. When I look back at my life, every beautiful thing started before I felt ready. I was not ready to become a mom. Wasn't ready to start a business. Wasn't ready to buy my land. Wasn't ready for so many of the things that had shaped my life. If I had waited until I felt completely ready, I would still be waiting. Sometimes courage isn't the absence of fear. Sometimes courage is simply saying, I'm scared, but I'm taking the next step anyway. I'm beginning to believe something. Maybe life isn't about finding ourselves. Maybe it's about allowing ourselves to be found by God, by purpose, by healing, by the version of ourselves that hardships has been shaping all along. Because every difficult season we've survived has left me with something: wisdom, compassion, patience, perspective. Even if I wouldn't have chosen the pain, I wouldn't trade what it taught me. So where do we go from here? We keep going. Not because we know exactly where we're headed, but because we're standing still out of fear. Isn't where healing happens? Hmm. Healing happens in motion. One conversation, one prayer, one act of courage, one tiny step, one ordinary day at a time. So, before we end today, I want to leave you with this week's still-standing reflection. What's one next step you've been afraid to take? Because you couldn't see the whole path. Maybe it's making the phone call. Maybe it's applying for the job. Maybe it's going to therapy. Maybe it's forgiving yourself. Maybe it's finally believing that your story isn't over. Whatever it is, you don't need the whole map. You just need enough courage to take the next step. And I trust God will meet you there. Oh. One more thing. The next step is enough. Thank you for trusting me with your time. Thank you for letting me be a small part of your journey. If today's conversation encouraged you, share it with someone who's standing at the crossroads. Maybe they just need the reminder that they don't have to have it all figured out today. Until next time, give yourself some grace. Keep growing through whatever season you're in. No matter what you're carrying today, keep growing, keep healing, and remember you're still standing.