I went out early one morning to see the children off to school. On my return, I noticed that the sunflowers growing on our compound had all blossomed differently. Some were growing faster than others. Some carried more flowers. And some were already beginning to wither.
As I looked on, my eyes settled on a very tall sunflower standing in the corner of the compound. It was the tallest of them all, and yet it had no flowers budding on it. Nearby, the plant with the most flowers was bending, its stalk bowing under the weight of all it carried, almost touching the ground. Beautiful and full, yet struggling to stand. But the plant with no flowers stood tall and strong.
This stopped me in my tracks.
How often do we look at a child, or a person, and measure their worth by what is immediately visible? We celebrate the one full of colour and output, without noticing the strain behind the beauty. And we overlook the one standing tall and quiet, simply because they have not yet bloomed.
Children are not all on the same timeline. Some blossom early and loudly. Others are still gathering strength beneath the surface - building roots, growing tall, preparing for a bloom that has not yet come. Neither is better. Neither is broken.
Our role, as parents, educators, and carers, is not to rush the flowering. It is to water the roots, make sure the soil is good, and trust that every child carries within them exactly what they need to bloom in their own time.
The tallest sunflower in the corner is still growing. And that is more than enough.