Still Growing

Grandma always said, "Emmah… never fall for the tragedy of not growing while you are still living."

Growth would be so much easier if life came with a microwave button. Press "2 minutes," pace around dramatically, and come out wiser, stronger, healed, and emotionally mature, with glowing skin and a better attitude.

Grandma taught me early that life doesn't work that way.

If you have been feeling stuck lately, like you're in the waiting room of destiny with a broken charger and bad snacks, this one is for you.

The day I didn't return fire

There was a season when I was working on my emotional intelligence. I wanted to be calmer, wiser, less reactive. Very noble goals.

Unfortunately, life immediately sent people specifically assigned to test whether I meant it.

One man said something slick to me, wrapped in a smile and dipped in fake innocence. The old me would have responded quickly, passionately, and with enough detail to make sure nobody slept peacefully. The old me was always ready. Not mature, but ready.

That day, I paused. Not because I had become a saint. Let us not get carried away. I paused because I remembered Grandma's lesson: growth takes time, but it also takes practice.

I went home annoyed. I replayed the conversation seventeen times and gave three imaginary speeches in the shower. But I still chose not to return fire.

That may not sound dramatic. But for me, it was a sprout. A tiny one, slightly bent, but a sprout.

Roots before leaves

"A seed does not become a tree because it is in a hurry."

When I was young, I thought that sounded beautiful and also slightly rude, because I was very much a person in a hurry. I wanted to plant a seed on Monday and sit under a full-grown mango tree by Friday.

But Grandma explained it like this. A seed does its work underground, in silence and darkness, where nobody claps because nobody can see it. It doesn't complain every morning, "Excuse me, I have been here three days. I would now like to be a sunflower." It stays planted. It stretches downward before it rises upward. It builds roots before it shows leaves.

A lot of us want fruit without roots. Wisdom without experience. Strength without struggle. The glow-up without the grow-up.

She used the example of a baby, too. A baby doesn't arrive and announce, "Hello everyone, I have arrived with communication skills and excellent balance." It learns slowly to hold its head up, sit, crawl, wobble and walk. That is growth: messy, gradual, repetitive, but necessary.

And when I complained, Why am I not further along?, I know exactly what she would have said: "Because you are not instant noodles."

Most of the time, growth isn't glamorous. It looks like:

• Biting your tongue when the old you would have started a fight.

• Saving money when the old you would have bought nonsense on impulse.

• Resting instead of forcing yourself to keep breaking.

• Choosing peace even when drama is knocking at your front door playing a saxophone.

Sometimes growth is simply that what used to destroy you now only annoys you for ten minutes. Celebrate that.

Don't dig up your seed

Grandma said impatience makes you dig up your own seed to check whether it's growing. And nothing delays progress like constantly disturbing the process.

We start something good, then quit because we don't see results. We begin healing, then return to the chaos because peace feels too quiet. We compare ourselves to someone else and decide our journey isn't enough.

But waiting isn't the same as doing nothing. The seed isn't lazy underground. So here are a few ways to take part in your own growth:

1. Name one small thing to practise. Not "become a new person." Just one: a calmer reply, a daily walk, a saved coin.

2. Count your sprouts. Write down the small wins, like the argument you didn't start. They're easy to forget and important to see.

3. Stop comparing timelines. You cannot water your own garden while counting somebody else's flowers.

4. Be patient when you slip. One setback doesn't end your destiny. Adjust and try again.

5. Rest without guilt. Resting is part of growing, not a break from it.

As Grandma's lesson goes: we read, we learn, we pray, we reflect, we apologise, we try again. Not one giant leap, but many faithful steps.

Process is not punishment

There is something deeply comforting in Grandma's teaching: slow growth is still growth. Just because your life doesn't look dramatic on the outside doesn't mean important things aren't forming within. Roots aren't flashy, but they are essential.

The strongest trees were once overlooked seeds. Every wise, steady person you admire didn't wake up that way one random Tuesday. They were shaped by time, tested by life, and softened by lessons they didn't always enjoy.

So be gentle with yourself. Honour the stage you are in. Do the work that belongs to today.

Here is my question for you: what is one small sprout in your life you haven't celebrated yet? Maybe you stayed calm, kept a promise, or chose rest. Share it in the comments. Let's cheer each other's sprouts.

You'll find more of Grandma's wisdom on growth, patience and becoming in Grandma Always Said.

You may not yet be where you want to be. But if you are rooted and willing to keep growing, you are not stuck. You are simply in process. And according to Grandma, process is not punishment. It is preparation.

With love,

Emmah