By Karilyn Barnett

My father has loved gardening for as long as I can remember. Growing up, we always looked forward to the Fourth of July—not just for the fireworks and root beer floats, but because it usually marked the first taste of Pop’s corn-on-the-cob. That first bite was always unforgettable—so fresh and sweet that no store-bought corn could ever compare.

This spring, I planned a trip to visit my parents in northern California. I live in Texas now, and we’ve been 2,000 miles apart for the last 15 years. I’ve visited many times, but it had been a long while since I’d been home for the Fourth of July. I missed the whoop-de-doo of the holiday and wanted my children to experience a little piece of the childhood magic I remembered so fondly. So this year, I made sure our visit would fall over the Fourth.

We arrived the afternoon of July 3rd, and the first thing Dad wanted to do was show us the garden. As we walked through it, he told us how he’d been talking to Mama Corn, letting her know we were coming and asking her to give us the best babies she had. This kind of talk wasn’t new—Dad has always lovingly referred to the Mama Peach Tree, Mama Tomato Plant, and just about every other “Mama” in his garden. But that evening, Mama Corn really did deliver. We sat down to the most tender, sweet corn-on-the-cob I’d had in years, and it was absolutely fantastic.

In the past, we’d always just laughed at Dad’s endearing way of talking to his plants. But this time, I felt something different. I was struck by his absolute belief in his garden.

Months before the harvest, Dad had already been doing the work. He spent hours preparing the soil, planting the seeds, watering, weeding, and nurturing every square inch of that garden. At first, there was nothing to see—just dirt—but he believed. And through that process, he lived out five powerful principles:

1. Faith that the seeds would grow

2. Knowledge that he was doing his part to care for and cultivate the plants

3. Expectation that the corn would come—and come abundantly

4. Patience, knowing that growth takes time and can’t be rushed

5. Gratitude—for the corn and for the joy of working in the garden

Watching him, I realized: these five principles aren’t just about gardening. They’re a blueprint for creating anything we desire in life.

Want a new job?

• Have faith that the right opportunity is already out there waiting for you

• Do your part—gain the skills, apply, follow up, prepare

• Expect success

• Trust the process and give it time

• Be grateful—for the journey, for those who help, and for the opportunity itself

We live in a world of instant everything—fast food, fast cars, instant messaging, and same-day delivery. But the process Dad taught me—the process of real creation—takes time. We often give up on our dreams too soon, not because they aren’t meant for us, but because we don’t give them enough time to grow.

Anything worth having is worth our patience, faith, and care. Just like Dad talks to Mama Corn, we can talk to our dreams. We can nurture them, live them in our minds before they arrive, and be grateful for them now.

When we do this—when we slow down and believe—our dreams will come.

So next time you enjoy a fresh ear of corn or a vine-ripened tomato, remember your dreams and don’t give up on them. They just might be quietly growing beneath the surface.

I’m so grateful I got to spend the Fourth of July with my parents this year. It felt like stepping back into the “good ol’ days,” where things moved a little slower and felt a little deeper. Their love, patience, and quiet example have always inspired me—and this trip was no exception.

_________________

•   To discover how to start choosing more effectively now, read The Jackrabbit Factor (FREE!)  
•   If you want more step-by-step guidance on creating the life you really want, join me in the Mindset Mastery program.
•   If you want my help overcoming that giant obstacle right in front of you, learn more and sign up for Genius Bootcamp.