Cultivating Abundance in My Garden and in My Work

Everything that I do is rooted in a mission of cultivating relationships and belonging in schools. This is something I have always done, even before I had the words, theory, or research to explain why it mattered.

I often connect this to the environment I grew up in. I watched my parents, and even some of my grandparents, constantly create and support community by genuinely caring about people and wanting what was best for them. They all did it in different ways, but it was always happening. I absorbed this. I saw the effects as people around them grew in confidence and joy.

It took work and consistency, and I noticed that too.

I don't have my parents or grandparents anymore. At least not physically. I do have their legacies, and they drive so many aspects of my life.

The other day, I was thinking about this while working in my garden.

I am no master gardener, but I am pretty proud of what I have been able to cultivate in my little plot. This year I have grown carrots, potatoes, zucchini, squash, peas, tomatoes, jalapeños, radishes, pumpkins, watermelon, beans, basil, parsley, berries, and an assortment of flowers. When I write it all out like that, I can really see the bounty of the work.

Being in my garden is my happy place. Some of that comes from the smell and feel of the dirt and the sight and color of things growing. But a lot of it comes from knowing what went into creating that abundance.

Before I put a single seed or start into the ground, I had to think about the arrangement of the beds and where each plant would go. I needed help clearing some areas. My husband helped me build beds and haul nutrient-rich soil one wheelbarrow at a time. The rest of the family had to be patient as our shelves and windows filled with pots of soil and tiny plants, many of which never made it because the light, temperature, or timing wasn't quite right.

There were definitely moments when I wondered if it was all worth it. Why go through all of this for what would ultimately be a fairly small crop when I could just go to the store and buy these things?

But I kept going.

And now, months later, I have plants, flowers, and food.

I cannot quite express the joy that spreads through my body when I go outside to pick a zucchini, pull up some carrots, or dig up potatoes that will soon be cleaned, cooked, and eaten by my family. When we eat them, we can taste the difference. We are consuming more than food. We are experiencing a connection that goes beyond calories.

Building connections that lead to cultivating abundance is important to me, both in my garden and in my work.

This is at the heart of what I am building with Cariño.

I am currently working on transforming Cariño into a nonprofit, and I am thinking a lot about what it means to cultivate belonging in our schools and communities. I don't want to simply create programs for families or schools. I want to help create the conditions where relationships can grow, where people recognize the strengths they already bring, and where families, educators, students, and community members can build something together.

That takes time. It takes intention. It takes patience, partnership, and a willingness to keep tending to something even when we can't yet see what it will become.

That is where I am right now with Cariño.

I am building beds, testing soil, and planting seeds. I don't know exactly what it will look like when it grows, but I know the values I want it to reflect. I know it will be rooted in the legacy of my family, the strengths of the communities I work alongside, and a deep belief that we thrive collectively, not separately.

I am cultivating something.

And I am excited to see what grows.