Roots do their best work in the dark

What a “dead” bougainvillea taught me about faith and God’s quiet restorations.

Jan 22, 2026

One of the first flowers I fell in love with when we moved down to Florida was the bougainvillea. That gorrgeous magenta pink stopped me in my tracks the first time I saw it. It had a way of boldly expressing itself, completely unapologetic about its beauty and instantly brightening everything that was around it.

Last year, my parents in law came to visit and one of the things we always enjoy doing together is working in the yard. We learn a lot from them in this arena and we’ve come a long, long way. When we first bought the house, it was a junGLE. There were overgrown trees, plants bursting out of cracked plastic pots, and I kid you not— pine needles piled not one but two feet high.

It was pure chaos.

And yet, part of what drew me to the house was that very wildness.

It was lush. Alive. Full of potential.

Over the years, we have continued pouring ourselves into it clearing, planting and learning. This past year, things started to shift. My husband somehow managed to grow grass where there had only ever been dirt. Between putting up a fence and removing dying trees.. our yard started to feel like it was coming together. Needless to say, we’ve put in tons of work over the years to make it more functional and enjoyable for our family.

His parents gifted us three bougainvilleas, which we planted along the fence where the sun shines the brightest. Nearly a year later, one is thriving, one is trying and one looks …

by all accounts…

dead. 😫

The leaves wilted, then dried, until nothing was left but brittle branches.

From the patio, mid conversation, we would glance over it and say '“looks like it’s on it’s way out.”

Yesterday while I took the girls out, my husband got to enjoy some quiet time in the patio. He shared with me that after reading his Bible, he stood up and walked through the yard to move his body and take in some fresh air. As he passed the plant. The dead one. He noticed something he hadn’t seen before.

It was a tiny sprout!!

Magenta pink.

And in that moment, the Lord revealed to him, “I bring what’s dead back to life.”

His revelation settled deep in me.

Because how many things do we abandon simply because they look dead?

How often do we trust what our eyes tell us more than what God has promised?

We see dryness. Silence. Stillness. And here we are, jumping to our own conclusions. We see things as they appear, not as they are and instantly, we decide that our story is over.

I’ve been wanting to finish writing a book i’ve been working on and publish it for a long time. I have started and stopped more times than I can count. There were seasons I walked away completely. I felt like I failed and maybe my dream of writing and publishing a book is just dead. But I knew that was a lie because the urge inside of me to keep going only grew stronger. I’m sure writing and publishing on here daily is doing it’s thang thang to strengthen my writing muscles and stamina for this book. I pray God continues to work on me. I pray that I do not fall prey to the lies that tell me my time has passed.

Because God is not limited by appearances.

He is a God of miracles.

A way maker.

A restorer.

He breathes new life into places we have already mourned but don’t know how to move on from.

Maybe you’ve been wanting to keep writing on Substack too but you’re too hesitant invest more time in it because you post something you’ve worked hard on and you hit the publish button but, no comments, no likes, no new subscribers — just dead.

Maybe there’s a passion you once carried that feels buried now.

Maybe a calling you’ve ignored for so long you assume it’s gone.

Maybe a relationship, a dream, a season of faith that feels beyond saving.

So hear me when I say this— what looks dead may only be dormant.

Just resting.