Change Will Cost You Something

During the summer, we bought a fern plant for our front yard. The weather was warm and humid, the perfect environment for its growth and development. It thrived under supportive conditions, unfurling vibrant green leaves that seemed to capture the essence of summer. Each day, it stood as a reminder of life’s abundance, soaking in sunlight and thriving in its natural habitat.

But as the seasons shifted and temperatures began to drop, we knew the fern could no longer stay outside. A decision had to be made for its survival, so we moved it indoors, hoping to shield it from the unforgiving cold. At first, I thought the move was enough—after all, I had protected it from the frost. However, I soon realized the transition was more challenging than I had anticipated.

Once indoors, the fern began to struggle. Its lush, vibrant leaves started to wilt and fall, one by one. It was no longer basking in the natural sunlight it had thrived on; instead, it had to rely on artificial lighting and water delivered according to my often imperfect schedule. While the indoor environment was warmer than the cold outside, it lacked the humidity, consistency, and nurturing conditions the plant had known.

As I watched its decline, I began to wonder if I had made the wrong decision. The fern, which had once thrived effortlessly, now seemed to be dying under my care. Its transformation felt more like a loss than a transition. And yet, I couldn’t give up on it.

As I stood over the plant one evening, scissors in hand, I found myself reflecting on the parallels between the fern’s journey and my own experiences with change. Isn’t life like this sometimes? We’re thrust into new environments, often by necessity rather than choice. We leave behind the comfort and security of what we’ve known and step into a space where everything feels foreign, uncertain, and even hostile.

In these moments, change requires us to let go—of habits, relationships, beliefs, and even parts of our identity. This process isn’t easy. In fact, it’s often painful. Like the fern, we may feel as though we’re losing more than we’re gaining.

By the time a month had passed, the fern looked bare, almost skeletal. Its branches, once overflowing with greenery, were stripped down, and more leaves had fallen than remained. I decided to trim away the dead branches, thinking it might give the plant a chance to redirect its energy. It was a simple act of care, but one that revealed an unexpected truth: hidden among the lifeless stems were signs of renewal.

Tiny green shoots were sprouting from the base, delicate but determined. New life was emerging, even as the plant appeared to be struggling. In that moment, I realized that the fern wasn’t dying—it was adapting. The transformation wasn’t a sign of failure; it was evidence of growth.

This revelation stayed with me, resonating far beyond the plant itself. How often do we mistake the painful process of change for failure? How often do we see only what we’re losing, not recognizing the new opportunities taking root beneath the surface?

The fern became a metaphor for resilience, a reminder that change, though costly, is also transformative. Yes, it requires us to shed the old—sometimes painfully—but in doing so, it makes space for something new to emerge.

In our lives, this shedding might look like letting go of a toxic relationship, stepping away from a career that no longer serves us, or challenging beliefs that hold us back. It might mean stepping into an unfamiliar environment where we feel out of place and unsure. But just like the fern, we can find strength in this discomfort.

Change will cost you something—sometimes more than you’re ready to give. It will challenge you, strip you bare, and force you to confront your limits. But if you allow it, change can also be your greatest opportunity for growth. It can transform you in ways you never imagined, giving rise to a version of yourself that is stronger, wiser, and more vibrant than before.

So, the next time life calls you to change, take heart. The journey may not be easy, and the process may leave you feeling vulnerable. But trust that beneath the surface, new life is forming, ready to bloom when the time is right. Change will cost you something—but what you gain in return can be extraordinary.