Trust the Process

See, I grew up around horses. My first was a Pony named Charlie. My family adopted Charlie after he’d been passed on, over and over again, family to family, usually whenever all the children finished learning to ride or when the smallest kid had outgrown him.
I also grew up around chickens, dogs, cows, sometimes sheep, and even a few barn cats. None of these animals were just livestock, they were our family!  Charlie finally found his forever home with us and we ended the cycle of ‘pass the pony’. He never again had to worry if his next home would be a loving one. At an unknown age (he could have been forty), years after our smallest kid outgrew him (that was me), Charlie passed away in a field of wildflowers and clover, peaceful in his retirement and knowing that he was our beloved friend.

I rode and broke horses throughout junior high and high school, and I even pitched in a bit when I came home from college.  I oiled tack. I lunged geldings. I mucked stalls. I rotated manure piles so we could fertilize the next year’s vegetable garden because mom’s garden always cranked out more food than anyone else’s in the county.
When I bought my first home, time and distance often kept me from my family and our horses. I had a career, a house, a garden. Every spring when the frost would break, I’d drive my beat up Ford Ranger east to mom and dad’s barn to pick up a load of seasoned manure so that I could also fertilize my flowers and vegetables and have the strongest garden in my neighborhood.  Just like mom.
Growing food was one of my proudest accomplishments as a young adult, although I always got so damn frustrated waiting for things to pop out of the ground. Anxious. Nervous. Until I saw those fragile tendrils peek out of the dirt, I was entirely convinced that my garden was a bust. I’d check my little seedlings relentlessly, sometimes several times a day. I’d call my mom, desperate for reassurance that all the hard work I put in prepping the ground, laying fertilizer, placing the seeds, and meticulous watering my whole yard wasn’t for nothing. She always said the same thing.

“Trust the process.”

Day after day, week after week, the little garden barely made progress, until about mid-summer. That’s when my little nee-nee’s hit the gas, doubling in size every couple of days. Shoots of growth overnight. Hundreds of little blooms ready to fruit. At the end of the season I’d have bumper crops of tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, zucchini, lettuces, herbs, and more. It still amazes me how my little patch of dirt and manure could create such a bounty. As the years passed, my impatience gradually morphed into appreciation, and I eventually learned to embrace the fact that most of the progress made in the early days of summer was actually happening where I couldn’t see it. 

I had learned to trust the process.

So let’s get back to that poop, shall we? I’m sure you’re dying to know where I’m going with this.

You should know that I mean this metaphorically more than literally, friends….

What do you think with a huge pile a poo in front of you? 
Do you see waste?
Do you see it as the ‘end’ of something?
Do you be repulsed?
Would you get up  and run?

You know what I would see?
I’d see something that with time and patience, could turn into something incredible. 
I’d see a ton of work to do and something I’m ready to dig into and create.
I’d see a crap load of potential. (Mom joke.)

In this era of instant gratification, we get frustrated too quickly. We get discouraged when we don’t see the fruits of our labors overnight. We want to give up. We want to quit. 

We think we have nothing in front of us besides a bunch of horseshit.

If you feel like throwing in the towel, if you feel like you’re not doing it right, if you feel like you should turn and run…

Trust the process.

If you’re laying the fertilizer, if you’re planting your seed, if you’re watering the soil…

Trust the process.

If you feel like somebody dumped a huge pile of poo on you, just remember this: the magic is happening even if you can’t see it.
So don’t quit.
Don’t. Don’t do it.

Those big things in front of you? They’re going to take a whole lotta faith and commitment.

Trust the process.

A lot of people might only see a bunch of horse crap.
You see it for what it actually is.

As always, it is an honor and a privilege to be in business with  every one of you. 
Yours in Success, 
Coach Lins