Resilience & Vitality

Lisa Story on July 7, 2026

Turning Toward the Light While Remaining Rooted

This July carries special significance as our nation celebrates 250 years of independence. Celebrations of fireworks and festivities inspired but so did reflection. I pondered a bit about the history of our country and in many ways, thought of resilience became the focus. Our history reflects people that navigated uncertainty, rebuilt after hardship, cared for one another through war, illness, economic struggle, and personal loss. Long before there were formal support services, there were family caregivers tending to aging parents, neighbors bringing meals, communities gathering around those who were grieving, and generations finding ways to move forward while carrying the memories of those they loved.

Today is no different. That same spirit continues. Every caregiver who rises before dawn to help a loved one begin another day demonstrates resilience. Every person navigating the unfamiliar landscape of grief while continuing to show up for family, work, or community embodies quiet vitality. These stories may never appear in history books, yet they form the foundation upon which families and ultimately communities are built.

Perhaps resilience is not simply about “being strong.” Maybe it is found in allowing ourselves to be human, in asking for help when we need it, resting without guilt, finding laughter in the heavy and accepting that healing rarely follows a straight path. Like the sunflower, resilience is less about standing unmoved through every storm and more about staying rooted enough to bend, recover, and continue reaching toward the light.

In much the same way, vitality may look different than we expect. It is not always found in endless energy or constant productivity. It can be found in the quiet moments that restore us, such as a meaningful conversation, time spent in nature, a nourishing meal, sharing a story, or finding room for joy even while carrying sorrow. These small moments of care gently remind us that we are still growing, still healing, and that our lives continue to offer hope to others.

At Hope Grows, we believe resilience is cultivated in relationships. Whether through counseling, support groups, the Gathering Table (Grief Soup gatherings, Caregiver2Caregiver mentoring, and the Legacy Project), or simply putting a head on a pillow at the Iris Respite House or walking through the healing gardens together, healing happens when people discover they do not have to carry life’s burdens alone. Every story shared strengthens not only the individual but the community around them.

As we commemorate 250 years of our nation’s journey, perhaps take the time to ponder a few things about what the 250th anniversary of our country invites us to consider. One of the greatest tributes we can offer is to continue caring for one another. Every family caregiver who sits beside a hospital bed, every neighbor who delivers a meal, every volunteer who offers a listening ear, and every person who walks alongside someone in grief strengthens the fabric of our community. Our country’s future will not be measured solely by its accomplishments, but by how faithfully we support those who are vulnerable, honor those who came before us, and invest in those who will come after us.

The Hope Grows legacy asks us to share just that.

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Hope Grows Founder & Director

  • Essential Oil: Melaleuca (Tea Tree)
  • Flower: Sunflower

At Hope Grows, we believe healing happens when we create space for both grief and growth. Through counseling, support groups, respite opportunities, and programs such as The Gathering Table & Legacy Initiative – Grief Soup, we invite caregivers and those grieving a loss to share their stories, find connection, and discover moments of restoration along the way. Call us at 412.369.4673 or email intake@hopegrows.org.

Disclaimer: This site offers information designed for educational purposes only. You should not rely on any information on this site as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, treatment, or as a substitute for professional counseling care, advice, diagnosis, or treatment. If you have any concerns or questions about your health, you should always consult with a physician or other healthcare professional.

Category: Emotions and Coping, Grieving, Mindfulness and Understanding, Self Care

Tag: coping with loss, grief, loss

Tender Growth

Lisa Story on April 15, 2026

The Misunderstood Language of Care

“Rest, Relax, & Restore!” and “Take care of yourself.”  Words Hope Grows has uttered over the course of their mission. Words that are often offered with the best of intentions. And yet, for caregivers and those grieving, they can feel hollow—even frustrating.

At Hope Grows, we understand the difficulty, we know that your world has shifted, rest is not always restorative. Stillness can feel loud. And balance is not something you find—it is something you practice, moment by moment. Emotional regulation, too, becomes an ongoing act of patience. Not perfection. Not control. But gentle returning.

April arrives with a quiet insistence. Like the slow unfurling of a petal. Again, and again. Like breath. Not the bold certainty of summer, nor the deep stillness of winter—but something far more delicate. A season of becoming. A season of tender growth.

Fragile Beginnings

There is a moment—often quiet, often unnoticed—when caregiving begins. It may not feel like a beginning at all. It may feel like an interruption, a disruption, or an overwhelming shift. But beneath it, something new has taken root.

Tender. Uncertain. Fragile.

The same is true in grief. When we lose someone we love, the world does not simply pause—it changes. And in that change, we find ourselves at the beginning of something we never asked for. A new way of being. A new landscape to navigate.

Like April soil, recently stirred, we are not yet steady. We are not yet strong. We are simply… beginning.

A Lesson from the Garden

This week, I planted lettuce and herbs—my first planting of the season. It felt hopeful. A small act of trust in what is to come. And yet, as April reminds us, hope requires attention. Freezing temperatures are in the forecast. Which means I must remain vigilant—watching the weather, covering the plants, protecting them from forces beyond their control. 

And as I tend to them, I am reminded of what it means to care for something in its early stages. This is what it means to honor fragility. Not by forcing growth, but by protecting it.

In nature, this tenderness is easy to see. The soft emergence of tulips, their petals still learning how to open. The tulips, bright yet vulnerable, bending with each passing wind. The earth, recently thawed, offering just enough warmth to invite new life forward—but not without risk.

This is not a season of full bloom. This is a season of fragile beginnings. And so, it is for caregivers. And so, it is for those who are grieving.

Protecting Your Tender Growth

Shielding, protecting, defending. There are seasons in life where we, too, require this kind of care. Where nourishment is disrupted. Where energy is depleted. Where even the idea of reaching out for community feels distant—misaligned with what our soul is quietly asking for.

Confusing?? For sure!! This concept is unclear because we are told that connection is healing. And it is. But there are moments when what we need first is not outward connection—but inward protection. A covering, a boundary, a gentle tending to our own internal climate.

Like placing a cloth over young plants to shield them from frost, we are allowed to create spaces of safety for ourselves.

This may look like:

  • Saying no without explanation
  • Stepping away from noise or expectation
  • Choosing rest in a way that feels right, not prescribed
  • Allowing emotions to come and go without urgency to “fix” them

This is not withdrawal. This is wisdom.

The Symbolism of April: Tulip & Geranium

It would not be me if I didn’t bring in some symbolism with this month’s flower and essential oil pick. The tulip, April’s flower, carries the essence of gentle emergence. It does not rush its bloom. It responds to its environment—opening when conditions allow, closing when they do not. There is much to learn from the rhythm of nature. There is some level of permission with this flower. There is permission to open slowly, permission to close when needed, and permission to honor your own timing.

Geranium, April’s essential oil, speaks to emotional balance—not as a fixed state, but as a living rhythm. It reminds us that steadiness is not the absence of feeling, but the ability to move with our emotions rather than against them. In part, the reason we put Geranium essential oil in our Signature Blend that we sell here at Hope Grows. Together, they offer a quiet message of not having to be fully open to grow and not having to feel balanced to find your way.

Continue through April with a Gentle Reflection

April is not asking you to bloom.

It is asking you to tend.

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Hope Grows Founder & Director

At Hope Grows, we support those grieving a loss. If you are struggling, reach out to connect. Call us at 412.369.4673 or email intake@hopegrows.org.

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Founder of Hope Grows

Focus of the Month: Tender Growth
Essential Oil: Geranium
Flower: Tulip

Disclaimer: This site offers information designed for educational purposes only. You should not rely on any information on this site as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, treatment, or as a substitute for professional counseling care, advice, diagnosis, or treatment. If you have any concerns or questions about your health, you should always consult with a physician or other healthcare professional.

Re-membering — Finding Our Way Back to What Still Belongs

Lisa Story on November 3, 2025

November ushers in a profound shift. The days grow shorter, darkness lingers longer, and the cold begins its slow settling in. For many who are grieving, this seasonal descent mirrors the inner landscape of loss. We become aware of what has been taken, what feels missing, and what life has made painfully out of place. Loss, in many ways, dis-members us—pulling apart what once felt whole, steady, or deeply anchored in love.

But November, with its gentle cultural invitation to gather, to reflect, to break bread, and to give thanks, offers another path forward. The path of Re-membering. Not remembering, as in merely recalling memories, but Re-membering, as the opposite of dismembering: bringing back together the parts of our story, our identity, and our love – ours still to keep.

When the Heart Can’t Look Back (Yet)

In the early throes of grief, memory can feel unbearable. I worked with a male client who lost the love of his life. The photographs of their travels, the souvenirs of family adventures, and the once-treasured albums sat untouched. He asked me through tears, “Will I ever be able to look at these again?” In that season, he could not. The memories brought searing pain, not comfort. He judged himself for it, wondering why love had become so intolerable to look at.

The truth is this: in early grief, protecting ourselves is not avoidance—it’s survival. With time, compassion, and gentleness, shifts. Months later, he told me he sat down with those same albums, this time with a candle lit beside him. He smiled. He cried. He paused. He continued. But he could look. The memories, he said, “came back like warm waves instead of cold knives.” This is Re-membering—when the story becomes integrated again, and love, not shock, sets the tone.

The Role of Nature and the language of plants is something we incorporate in our model of care. Periwinkle is the flower for the month and has long symbolized fidelity, everlasting love, and spiritual connection. Its evergreen nature reminds us that some bonds—especially those forged in deep love—do not die. Even in the coldest months, its presence whispers, “what is rooted in the heart remains.”

Bringing periwinkle imagery, dried flowers, or watercolor art into your space can act as a gentle anchor during November. Nature not only reflects where we are—it helps guide us to what’s next.

Another grounding companion is the doTERRA Balance® Essential Oil. For those grieving, grounding is essential. The doTERRA Balance® blend, with its steady, wood-forward aroma, offers emotional centering when life feels unmoored. A drop to the wrists, over the heart, or on the bottoms of the feet can support the nervous system and create space for calmer breathing, emotional stability, and greater connection to the present moment. When we are grounded, we are more capable of Re-membering gently, without drowning in the past or bracing against it.

The November heart can bring gratitude and giving. It brings thanks-giving—not just as a holiday, but as a posture. Gratitude does not erase grief, but it can coexist with it. Neuroscience shows that giving thanks and engaging in altruism can increase serotonin and dopamine levels, elevating mood and nurturing a sense of meaning and connection. When we give of ourselves—especially while grieving—we momentarily step out of our pain and into purpose.

Some of the most healing practices in November can include:

  • Writing one simple gratitude each day.
  • Helping someone anonymously.
  • Sending a card to a caregiver, widow, or grieving friend.
  • Volunteering, even in a small capacity.
  • Sharing a meal or donating one.

Altruism helps stitch the heart back together. It reminds us: We still matter. We can still contribute. We are still connected.

As we transition into the giving season and the colder start of the change of season, may you Re-member what is still yours, ground yourself with breath, earth, and calming aromatherapy, honor memories at a pace that is gentle, not forced, receive the symbols of nature as teachers and companions, and give and give thanks, not to bypass grief, but to let light in.

As winter approaches, may you find that what once felt broken can become rearranged—not as it was before, but as something whole in a new way. Love remains. You are still here. Your story continues, and it still deserves warmth, connection, and peace.

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Founder & Clinical Director

Focus of the Month: Re-membering
Essential Oil: Balance
Flower: Periwinkle

Beyond Yourself: Finding Ground in Grief During Autumn

Lisa Story on October 6, 2025

Autumn carries with it a unique duality—a beauty that invites reflection and a reminder of inevitable change. Leaves shift from vibrant greens to fiery reds and golds, daylight wanes, and the air grows crisp. For caregivers, this season can mirror the internal landscape of grief: moments of vivid memory, tinged with loss, and a sense of transition that can feel both beautiful and unsettling.

Caregivers experience loss throughout their journey—not only the eventual passing of a loved one but also the slow erosion of familiar routines, physical independence, and shared dreams. Often, the weight of this emotional labor is carried quietly, and reaching out for support can feel like an indulgence rather than a necessity. Yet, it is precisely during these moments, when life feels beyond your control, that stepping outside yourself to seek support creates a profound opportunity: the chance to live in a moment beyond yourself.

The Power of Emotional Support

Grief can be isolating, but it does not need to be endured alone. Emotional support—whether through a trusted friend, a counselor, or a support group—offers caregivers a space to share, reflect, and be witnessed without judgment. It allows for the release of pent-up feelings, the validation of experiences, and the gentle reminder that grief is not a linear process. By reaching out, caregivers’ step beyond the self-imposed isolation and embrace a moment of shared humanity. In this act, even the heaviest moments of loss can become slightly more bearable.

Nature as a Grounding Force

Autumn’s natural rhythms mirror the journey of loss, offering a quiet guide toward a feeling of being grounded. I know I have mentioned this many times in my blogs, and maybe I am starting to sound like a broken record, but connecting to nature works. While I share my experience from the other day, please know that this is not meant to be a comparison to the grief we all feel as described above; it merely is an example of how powerful connecting to nature can be.

I was at Hope Grows over the weekend helping my spouse with the leaves and cutting the grass when the utility vehicle we were using would not start. We were back in the woods when we realized the battery was the problem. We were far enough away from an electric source for jumping the battery that caused annoyance and frustration. We were both tired and almost done with the work, and we started to experience a sense of defeat: a loss of time, as we both saw it, time that we thought we couldn’t spare. Instead of expressing the emotions, I suggested we lean back in our seats and look up into the trees, and take some deep breaths. WOW! Within a few minutes we both could feel the benefit from connecting to nature. It truly is a grounding force.

Moments of loss and the emotion that comes with it is overwhelming. It doesn’t have to be if we choose another path, such as walking among the shifting trees, noticing the crispness of the air, or observing the slow descent of falling leaves. This process encourages mindfulness—a way to root oneself in the present. Nature gently reminds us of life’s cycles, the inevitability of endings, and the quiet persistence of renewal. These encounters do not erase grief but provide a tangible anchor, a steadying presence amidst emotional turbulence.

Living Beyond Yourself

When caregivers engage with emotional support and connect with nature, they participate in a practice of living beyond themselves. It is an acknowledgment that grief, while intensely personal, is also shared across the human experience. These practices create moments where the weight of caregiving and loss can be set down, even temporarily, allowing space for reflection, compassion, and hope. Autumn, with its transitional beauty, becomes a companion in this process—a reminder that change, loss, and renewal exist side by side.

For caregivers, embracing support and the grounding presence of nature does not diminish the depth of their grief. Instead, it offers a path toward resilience, mindfulness, and the quiet revelation that even in the midst of loss, life—like the turning of the seasons—continues, offering moments of connection, insight, and healing. In the moment that both my spouse and I had with staring into the trees, it calmed our brain enough to spark a creative fix to getting the utility vehicle started. Thank you, God, for helping us take those deep breaths and to nature for giving us the opportunity to go beyond ourselves.

Hope Grows offers emotional and mental health support to caregivers and those grieving a loss by way of mental health counseling, support groups, both virtual and in-person, education, and phone check ins.

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Founder & Clinical Director

Focus of the Month: Beyond Yourself
Essential Oil: Cedarwood
Flower: Fuchsia

Stretching Yourself in Grief

Lisa Story on August 4, 2025

In August, as summer begins to exhale its last full breath, the world around us slowly starts to quiet. The heat lingers, but the light subtly shifts. Gardens begin to dry. Cicadas sing their steady chorus. Nature gives us signs that change is near.

And in this seasonal in-between, there is an invitation: to stretch yourself.

Held in the Heart of Grief

Lisa Story on July 2, 2025

Grief, in its truest form, is not a problem to be solved or a wound to be quickly bandaged. It is a sacred unfolding, an experience of love’s deepest cost. It can feel raw and relentless—like waves crashing against the shore of our very being. And in those crashing moments, it’s easy to feel like we’re unraveling. That we are completely, utterly alone.

But grief, while deeply isolating, also carries within it a quiet truth: we are meant to be held.