Rebel Talk: Grass
You ever stop and think about grass? I mean really think about it?
Alright, before you think I've lost it, or that I have nothing better to write about, I'm really not crazy (most of the time).
It’s one of the simplest things we see every day. Yet behind every beautiful lawn, every park where kids laugh and play, every field you walk barefoot across without a single rock stabbing your heel—there’s a quiet battle that took place. One that most people never see.
Right now, up at my place in the Iron Range of Minnesota—God’s country—I’m in the thick of that battle. A place that gives me peace like nowhere else. The lake, the tall pines, the quiet... but also, the work. Always the work. That cabin up north isn’t just a retreat. It’s a project. One that never ends. But that’s part of the reward, isn’t it?
This year, the goal is grass.
Not just any grass. Grass that grows in the kind of sandy soil that laughs at your efforts. Grass that doesn't come easy. You have to work the land. Rake, level, seed, water, and then wait. And wait some more. You watch it day after day like you’re hoping it’ll suddenly take root and give you a miracle.
But that’s not how grass works. That’s not how life works.
See, beautiful things—lasting things—they take time. Just like this little dream of mine up north. I started last fall. It’s summer now. Still patchy. Still fighting the elements. But I know what it’ll become. I can see it. A year from now, maybe two, that rough patch of earth will be a place where my boys throw the football. Where we grill out and laugh with friends. Where we gather around the fire pit on cool nights, toes in the grass, drinks in hand, and the world paused for a while.
It’s easy to want the end result now. That lush green. That instant beauty. But life doesn’t work like Amazon Prime. You don’t get same-day delivery on greatness.
You’ve got to till the soil of your own life. You’ve got to plant seeds even when the ground isn’t ideal. And then you’ve got to show up. Every day. Water it with consistency. Protect it from the weeds of doubt. Be patient when growth is invisible.
And most of all—you’ve got to believe in what it’s going to be, even when all you see is dirt.
So whether it’s a relationship, a business, your health, or just a patch of stubborn ground you’re trying to turn into something beautiful... remember the grass.
Simple. But never easy.
And when it finally grows—when it finally comes in—it’s so worth it.
Keep planting. Keep believing. Because the barefoot summer is coming.
Stay Relentless,
Ryan
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