Don't Dig Them Out

I've been spending a lot of time in my garden lately.

Moving to San Antonio was a fresh start in so many ways, and one of the first things I did was plant. New things. Beautiful things. And watching those new plantings come in bright, bold, and full of life this spring has brought me more joy than I expected. Eating lettuce from my own garden, cutting roses to enjoy, watching the hummingbirds enjoy the plantings, I feel so blessed.

But it's the older plants that have been teaching me the most. Some of them took a hard hit this winter. They don't look like much right now. The leaves are tentative, the stems still unsure, and if you didn't know better, you might think they were gone. I'll be honest, there were mornings I stood over them, hands ready, fully prepared to pull them out and replace them with something that looked more promising.

Every time, something stopped me.

My faith, I think. A quiet, steady voice that said, "Don't give up on them yet.” Give them time. Give them care. Don't confuse slow with gone.

So, I kept watering. I kept tending. I gave them what they needed without demanding they perform on my timeline.

And this week? The tiniest green pushing through the soil. Life returning, not on my schedule, but right on time.

I see this in practice every single day.

I work with chiropractors who are talented, educated, and deeply committed to their patients. And yet somewhere along the way, the growth slowed. The momentum that once felt effortless started to feel like work. The new practitioners around them seem to be blooming while they're standing in soil that feels cold and hard.

And the temptation, oh, I understand it, is to dig it all out. Blow up the systems. Chase the next shiny strategy. Start over, or worse, give up.

But here's what twenty-five years of coaching has taught me: most of the time, the practice isn't broken. It's just in a season. And what it needs isn't replacement. It needs tending.

It needs someone to look at what's actually there, systems that work, those that don’t, the patient relationships, the referral patterns, the team dynamics, the way you're showing up,and say, "This is worth caring for." Let's give it what it needs.

That is the work I do. Not because practices are failing, but because good things deserve to grow into great things. Because you built something real, and real things are worth tending.

3 Ways to Tend Your Garden This Month

Growth in practice and in life rarely comes from doing more. It comes from doing the right things, consistently, with intention.

Here are three places to put your energy this April.

🌱 Revisit Your Roots. When a plant stops thriving, the first place a gardener looks is the root system. Do the same in your practice this month. Go back to your why, the reason you chose this profession, the patients who changed your life, the vision you had when you first opened your doors. Identity drives decisions, and decisions create momentum. If your results have drifted, the drift usually started at the root. Reconnect there first.

🌿 Water What's Already Growing. New leads and new patients get a lot of attention. But your existing patient relationships are your most fertile ground. This month, identify your top 20 most loyal, connected patients and invest intentionally in those relationships. A personal call. A handwritten note. A meaningful conversation at their next visit. Referrals don't come from systems alone; they come from people who understand value, want to collaborate, and feel genuinely seen. Nurture what you already have.

☀️ Clear What's Blocking the Light. Every garden has something crowding out the growth, an overgrown habit, a draining commitment, a story you've been telling yourself about what's possible. This month, name one thing in your personal life or practice that is consuming energy without producing fruit. You don't have to overhaul everything. Just remove one thing that's blocking the light and watch what the space allows.

Spring is an invitation.

Not just in the garden, but in your practice and in your life. It's the season of re-emergence, when everything that survived the cold starts reaching for the light again. You don't have to have it all figured out. You don't have to be blooming at full capacity right now.

You just have to be willing to be tended, nurtured, and find the light.

If something in you stirred while reading this, if you've been standing over your own practice wondering whether to wait, chase a shiny object, or walk away, I'd love to talk. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is let someone who believes in what you've built come alongside you and help you see what's still alive in there.

Because I promise you, it's there.

Don't dig it out, give up, or ignore the season. Not yet. Not before you give it the care it deserves.


With belief in you and what is possible,