I love flowers.
Especially roses.

Some bloom with strength and brilliance,
others seem to hesitate,
as if still gathering the courage to open.
And I wonder:
why does one appear more radiant than another?

The conditions of the garden are the same:
sun, rain, summer, winter.
But of course, some receive more light,
others more shade.
Some grow deep roots,
while others wrestle with harder soil.

And yet, they all bloom.
Each in their own way.

And you?
How do you wish to bloom:
quietly, or in all your potential?

There’s a verse that often visits me,
not as a weight, but as a reminder:

“The timid will not inherit the kingdom of heaven.”

For a long time, I thought it spoke of guilt.
Today, I know it speaks of courage.

Timidity, when born from fear,
builds walls that hide the talents
the world so deeply needs to see —
afraid that others won’t know how to honor them.

But the garden needs your colors.
It needs your unique fragrance,
your way of bending gracefully in the wind.

The true sacrifice is not to suffer —
it is to allow yourself to be seen.
To let go of fear,
so that life can flow through you.

Because blooming means this:
offering yourself to the sun, even knowing it might rain.
Letting petals fall,
so new ones may be born.
And trusting that every sincere surrender
is, in truth, an act of love.

To the brave,
To those who give themselves wholly:
life reserves the joy of surrender,
the sweetness of becoming,
and the peace of those who have fully bloomed.

🌿 Botanical moral of the week:

Those who wait for the perfect moment to bloom
end up becoming landscapes of doubt.

Text: Priscila Sotana - Incredibubble

From the series "Truths of the Garden"