When the First Leaf Appears

Series: Roots Before Blooms

Journal 03

Bogor Botanical Gardens, Bogor, Indonesia

Today...

This morning I went back to the Bogor Botanical Gardens for another run.

Lately, every visit seems to leave me with a different thought. My last journal was about roots, and I thought I had finished reflecting on them. Apparently, nature still had another lesson waiting for me.

On my way home, I suddenly remembered one of my science classes back in junior high school. I don't remember all the scientific terms anymore, but I still remember the illustration in the textbook showing how a seed begins its journey.

At first, nothing seemed to happen.

Then the seed coat slowly opened.

A tiny root began growing downward into the soil. As the roots continued searching for water, a small shoot slowly pushed upward. Little by little, the stem became stronger until one day, the first young leaves appeared. They were still soft, fragile, and light green, yet they welcomed the morning sunlight without hesitation.

Back then, it was simply another lesson I needed to remember for an exam.

Today, it feels like a completely different lesson.

What amazes me isn't how a tree eventually becomes tall.

What amazes me is how something so delicate can begin the journey.

The tiny roots are incredibly fine.

The first young leaves are even more fragile.

Yet somehow they are able to break through the seed coat and slowly push their way through the soil.

Honestly, I can't explain how that happens.

I'm sure science has the answer, but if you asked me today, I probably couldn't explain the technical process.

What I do know is that every large tree I admire today once started exactly like that.

What Stayed With Me

That thought stayed with me long after I arrived home.

I began wondering if many things become complicated simply because I want to understand everything before taking the next step.

I often want certainty.

I want to know where this journey will lead.

I want to know how long it will take.

I want to know whether what I'm doing today will eventually become something meaningful.

But the seed doesn't seem to live that way.

It doesn't try to control the process.

The roots simply continue searching for water.

The young leaves simply continue reaching toward the light.

Neither of them seems to question the design already placed within them.

They simply keep growing exactly as their Creator intended.

Maybe that's why something so small and fragile can accomplish something that looks impossible.

Not because it is strong on its own, but because it faithfully follows the design it was created for.

Back Home

When I got home, I made myself a cup of coffee before opening my notebook.

It's funny how a lesson I learned years ago could suddenly mean something completely different.

The lesson itself never changed.

I did.

As I sat there writing, I realized I wasn't really thinking about a seed anymore.

I was thinking about my own journey.

A Quiet Reflection

Building Nafisa Living feels a little like that tiny seed.

There are days when I wish everything would move faster.

There are days when I want to know exactly where this journey will lead.

Sometimes I quietly wonder how long this season of building will last.

Today, I learned something from that little seed.

It keeps trusting the process even though it doesn't know what it will become.

It doesn't know how long it will remain beneath the soil.

It doesn't know when the first leaves will appear.

It simply continues growing because that's what it was created to do.

I think that's the lesson I'm bringing home today.

I don't know exactly what Nafisa Living will look like a few years from now.

I don't know how long this season will last.

Maybe I don't need all those answers today.

Maybe my responsibility isn't to control every outcome.

Maybe my responsibility is simply to keep showing up, to keep learning, and to keep doing today's work with care.

Just like the tiny roots continue searching for water.

Just like the young leaves continue reaching toward the light.

I'm learning to trust the process, even when I don't know the outcome or how long the journey will take.

Maybe growth isn't always about arriving as quickly as possible.

Maybe growth is about faithfully becoming who we were created to be, one quiet season at a time.

Today's Note

Not every season asks us to bloom.

Some seasons simply ask us to keep growing.

Today, I realized that this is success too.

Not because I've already arrived, but because I choose to keep growing, one day at a time, trusting that every season unfolds beautifully in His perfect timing.

OLOMI for Nafisa Living