Expansion, Cracks, and Finding the Right Ground
Cracks, quiet rooms, and pool water: Why things that disrupt us are actually helping us grow.
Sitting inside my son’s house on a dreary, rainy afternoon, the quiet felt heavier than usual. Almost deafening.
There were no sounds coming from the other rooms, no furniture, no grandpups, Archie and Captain, racing across the floor. Their nails creating a melody on the laminate floor. I missed the quiet chaos of Archie begging to play fetch (specifically with whatever toy Captain happened to be chewing on) and Captain, the Golden Retriever who refuses to fetch a single ball, trying to squeeze his giant self onto my lap like he’s still a puppy. Just empty spaces where life and memories used to live out loud.
I was waiting for prospective renters to walk through the door. I was hoping to find a family who would love and care for this place the way my son, Nick, and my husband, Jimmy, did when they built it from the ground up on land my dad bought back in the late 1980s.
Every piece of this house was chosen by Nick, and built with sweat equity, family legacy, and hundreds of weekend hours over the course of a few years. Watching Nick work on this home over those years, I’d catch constant glimpses of my dad in him. Like the day I snapped a photo of him crouched on a hardware store floor, meticulously mapping out PVC fittings and figuring out how to connect them. That’s three generations of problem-solving builders right there in one aisle.
Handing over the keys to a new family felt like a strange mix of intimacy and grief. It meant closing a chapter on my son’s story so another family could open theirs. I sat there in the stillness, questioning if I was doing the right thing, or if driving over to maintain a vacant home was better. But a house needs life. It needs people baking cookies in the kitchen and enjoying the front porch. Letting go meant letting the home do what it was built to do.
The Windshield and the Voice of Control
While I was sitting in that quiet house listening to the rain, often heavy downpours, my own car was trying to teach me an almost identical lesson about control. Or the lack of control we actually have.
A few months ago, I traded in a vehicle I loved because an oil change went sideways, requiring an engine replacement. Even after it was fixed, every minor hiccup made me spiral with anxiety. Coupled with a looming crack across the windshield, I panicked, traded it in for a sleek black-on-black car, who I’ve affectionately named Noir Velvet. I drove off the dealership lot feeling like I’d dodged a massive bullet.
Two weeks later? CRACK. A stray rock on a rural road sent a fresh, 6-inch crack traveling right across my brand-new windshield.
My face turned red, my temper flared, and that toxic internal script immediately started spinning: “Look what you get. You should have just fixed the old one. You acted too rashly. You don’t even deserve nice things. You can’t even take care of them.”
But because I’m learning, I stopped myself right there. I recognized that mean voice, the one that turns an ordinary accident into universe-sent punishment.
That rock wasn’t karma. It was just a rock on an ordinary day in the middle of me living my life. And that crack? It wasn’t damage. It was expansion.
Sometimes we get to choose the moment we release something (like handing over the keys to a vacant house); other times, the moment chooses us (like a rock hitting glass). Neither is a punishment. Both force us to stretch, grow, and open up space for what’s next.
The Pool Water and Finding Your Ground
This obsession with keeping things rigid and controlled spilled right over into my backyard. I am so fortunate to have a pool, but lately, I spend more time frantically tending to it than enjoying it. I catch myself holding back from even getting in unless I have hours to spare, living in this strange “all-or-nothing” dichotomy.
After returning from a short getaway, I noticed a tiny tinge of green algae creeping around the edges. Before letting anyone swim, I spent hours vacuuming, shocking, and backwashing the pump to get the water crystal clear again.
And as I stood at the pump backwashing the filter, I noticed something incredible.
The exact patch of yard where the pool’s dirty discharge water drains out, the stuff containing the very algae that made the pool “undesirable,” was the healthiest, darkest, most lush green grass in my entire lawn. Nothing else even came close.
The water that couldn’t stay in the pool didn’t fail. It was just in the wrong environment. The second it landed on the right ground, it became the very thing that made the landscape thrive.
What’s Asking for Your Attention?
How many of us are forcing ourselves into the wrong environment, judging our “mess” or our “cracks” as flaws, simply because we aren’t standing on the right ground?
A house can’t stay frozen in time as a vacant memory forever and still serve anyone. A windshield can’t stay sealed against the world without eventually meeting a rock or a bug. And neither can we. The things we hold onto, even the good things, sometimes have to crack wide open so something new can move in.
That is exactly why I built The Greenhouse.
If you’ve ever looked closely at the artwork for The Greenhouse, nothing is accidental. The bright light is our inner glow; the climbing Jasmine nods to my creative agency; the peony anchors The Bloom framework; and those extra chairs stacked in the room are my way of telling you there is always a seat for you here. You don’t have to carry your growth or do life in isolation.
We are expanding this podcast into a true community, a monthly membership where we gather twice a month. One session will be dedicated teaching around our 5 Pillars (Nourishment, Roots, Seasonality, Cultivation, and Pruning), and the other will be an open, “come-as-you-are” gathering where we hold space for your hard weeks, your wins, and your stories.
Pull Up a Chair
Whether you’re navigating a chapter that’s sitting vacant, or trying to heal a crack that found you when you least expected it—you don’t have to handle it alone.
Take the Quiz: Visit maintainingmelinda.com/quiz to find out which pillar in your life is asking for your attention right now.
Join the Circle: Come pull up a chair in our Facebook group and explore our new monthly Greenhouse membership.
Listen In: Catch the full audio stories of Noir Velvet and the pool filter in Episodes 7 and 8 of The Greenhouse Podcast.
The light is on, the drinks are ready, and I’ll be right here waiting for you in the greenhouse.