You know what almost got me?
The fact that I almost missed the ladybug completely.
After all that carrying dirt like I was auditioning for a low-budget farming documentary… after wrestling grow bags, checking leaves like a worried auntie, googling bugs every six minutes, and standing outside squinting at clouds like I personally work for the weather channel…
…the little thing was just sitting there.
Tiny. Quiet. Unbothered.
Meanwhile I was out there spiraling over every yellow leaf and dramatic tomato plant fainting episode.
But the moment I saw that ladybug, I got excited like I had won a gardening Grammy.
Because gardeners know. Ladybugs are good news.
They do not come to destroy the garden. They come because something is growing worth protecting.
And honestly? That little bug preached to me.
Because for the 21 plus years I have lived in this house waving at neighbors the same way city folks do in the South: half nod, half suspicion, half “don’t ask me for nothing.”
Which is mathematically impossible, but somehow accurate.
Yet suddenly, because I had “too many tomato plants,” people started appearing out of thin air.
Neighbors I had barely spoken to in years were suddenly standing in my yard talking about peppers, rain, raised beds, and somebody’s auntie who grows collards in five-gallon buckets.
All because growth became visible.
That thing touched me deeper than I expected.
Because sometimes we think ministry has to be a microphone. Sometimes we think community has to start in a church fellowship hall with matching T-shirts and a signup sheet.
Meanwhile God is out here using overgrown basil and extra tomato seedlings like: “Here. Start with this.”
And maybe that is the lesson.
Not every connection begins with deep conversation. Sometimes it begins with: “You need a tomato plant?”
Sometimes healing looks less like fireworks and more like standing in your yard sweaty, tired, and holding dirt under your fingernails while realizing you are not as isolated as you thought.
And maybe the ladybug was not just there for the plants.
Maybe God was reminding me too: “Chelle… there are still good things landing in your life.”
Even the tiny ones.
“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.” Zechariah 4:10

— Learning that sometimes God sends ministry and community disguised as gardening advice, four extra tomato plants and a red bug named lady.

Love, Chelle
DefyGravityWithoutWings.com