Planting the Seed and Trusting the Harvest

Planting the Seed and Trusting the Harvest

Yesterday, something unexpected happened.

An elite level coach reached out to me and asked for direction. Not casually. Not out of politeness. But sincerely. He told me that he believed I was a good coach. That I was effective. That there were adults and young people who could benefit from the way I see development, discipline, identity, and growth.

Then he said something that stayed with me.

“You have to put it out there. Plant the seed. And give it time.”

That landed deeper than he probably realized.

Because if I’m honest, I tend to keep things close to the chest. I assume that if someone truly needs help, they’ll find their way to me. I tell myself that staying quiet is humility. That waiting is wisdom. That restraint is discernment.

But sometimes restraint is just fear dressed up in discipline.

At the same time, I was sitting with Chapter 18 of a book I’m writing. A chapter where curiosity didn’t lead to clarity as quickly as I thought it would. Where hesitation showed up in small ways. Missed tasks. Shortened walks. Delayed messages. Nothing dramatic. Just enough resistance to make me question myself.

And that’s usually where doubt creeps in.

Not loud doubt. Quiet doubt.

The kind that says, “Who am I to help anyone else when I’m still figuring things out myself?”

Here’s the truth I’m learning.

The people who can help others the most are usually the ones still in the process themselves.

Perfection doesn’t create trust. Presence does.

Within that same 24 hour window, three other men reached out to me privately. No public comments. No announcements. Just quiet messages asking about morning routines. Habits. Discipline. Structure. How I stay anchored. How I recover when I fall short.

They didn’t know about each other.

But they all asked.

And it humbled me.

Because there are days I feel like my life has cracks and leaks. Days where I don’t get everything done. Days where I fall short of my own standards. Days where I need guidance myself.

Yet somehow, God keeps placing people in my path who are asking for help.

That tells me something.

We are not meant to do this alone.

We were never designed to white knuckle our way through life pretending we “have it all together.” Suffering in isolation doesn’t earn stripes. It doesn’t build character. It just builds walls.

What builds strength is community.

What builds clarity is conversation.

What builds direction is having someone willing to walk with you while you figure it out.

For the past 25 years, I’ve lived in the space of development. Teaching. Coaching. Parenting. Learning alongside others. I’ve been a dad for 16 years. Married for 28. I’ve worked with children, families, athletes, and educators long enough to know that growth is rarely linear and almost never clean.

But it is possible.

Especially when someone helps you hold the compass.

At my core, I am spiritually driven.

My identity is rooted in my relationship with God and with Jesus. That relationship doesn’t make me flawless. It grounds me. It gives me a place to return to when I fall. It gives me standards. Intentions. A framework for discipline. A reason to get back up.

From that identity comes the way I operate.

Am I taking care of my body?

Am I stewarding my mind?

Am I protecting my family?

Am I eating well?

Am I staying honest?

Am I accountable to anyone who will ask me the hard questions?

Those questions don’t disappear when you help others. If anything, they get louder.

And that’s a good thing.

Iron sharpens iron.

So today, I’m doing something that feels both uncomfortable and right.

I’m putting this out there.

If you are hurting.

If you are overwhelmed.

If you are uncertain.

If you are tired of trying to figure everything out on your own.

You don’t have to stay silent.

If you’re a parent trying to support your child.

If you’re an athlete searching for direction.

If you’re an adult trying to master yourself.

If you’re standing in a storm and don’t know your next step.

Reach out to me.

Send a direct message.

Email me.

Contact me privately.

Nobody else needs to know.

This is not a sales pitch.

This is not transactional.

This is not about what I get back.

This is free.

This is my way of giving back.

Others have planted seeds in me for decades. Coaches. Mentors. Teachers. Friends. Family. Strangers who showed up at the right time. I am here because of them.

Now it’s my turn to plant seeds.

I may not have every answer. But I know how to listen. I know how to ask questions. I know how to help people see themselves more clearly and move one step forward with intention.

And I trust God with the harvest.

Seeds don’t grow overnight. Some need time underground. Some need watering from other hands. Some don’t sprout until the season changes.

That part is not mine to control.

My role is to show up with reverence. With honesty. With kindness. With a servant’s heart. To love people well. To help where I can. To walk with others instead of ahead of them.

So if this post finds you at the right moment, trust that nudge.

I’m here.

And we don’t have to do this alone.