It’s Not Dead Yet: Lessons From My Money Tree

For months, my money tree looked dead.

Not struggling. Not a little dry. Dead.

No leaves. No green. Just bare branches sitting in a pot in my home.

I received this tree years ago as a gift from someone I worked with. I had managed to keep it alive through the move, transitions and different seasons of my life. Then I left for an extended Christmas trip. Somewhere in the change of routine, my little tree got stressed. By the time I returned, the leaves had started falling, and eventually it was completely bare.

I was so disappointed.

But I didn’t throw the tree away.

Something in me kept thinking, Maybe it will come back. And then the other day, I saw it. A little bit of green. A new leaf was pushing out near the bottom of what looked like a lifeless tree. Then another came. And another. Almost overnight, there was this beautiful, vibrant green growth coming from a place I wasn’t even watching.

But the longer I looked at that tree, the more I realized I was looking at much more than a plant.

I was looking at a lesson.

The Leaves Were Gone, but the Roots Weren’t

There are seasons in life when what we can see makes us believe everything is over. A relationship ends. A career changes. An opportunity disappears. A plan doesn’t work. People move in different directions. Sometimes, parts of us seem to go dormant too. Our confidence, our creativity, our willingness to dream, our expectation that something good can still happen.

I’ve lived some of that.

And as I looked at the tree, I thought about the person who gave it to me. We haven’t really been in touch since 2024, but I still have the tree.

That made me think too.

People come into our lives for different reasons and different seasons. Sometimes the relationship continues. Sometimes it doesn’t. But something meaningful can still remain from that season.

In this case, it was a money tree.

Years later, that same gift is still sitting in my apartment, teaching me something about growth, change and what can come back to life.

Not everything has to stay connected to us forever to have had value.

Sometimes We Need to Tend to Ourselves Too

As I kept looking at the tree, I also had to look at myself. Before my money tree lost its leaves, most of its growth was at the very top. For a long time, I knew it probably needed some attention. A different pot. Some pruning. Better care. I kept saying I was going to do it, but I didn’t.

How often do we do that with ourselves?

We know something needs attention, but we keep moving. We take care of work, family, responsibilities and everybody else who needs something from us. We answer the calls, show up, meet deadlines and handle what needs to be handled. Meanwhile, there are parts of our own lives quietly saying, Can you tend to me too?

That tree reminded me that surviving isn’t the same as being properly cared for.

And here’s another lesson I found in it: even care has to be given in the right measure. Plants can struggle from too little attention, but they can also struggle when their normal rhythm is disrupted.

Life can be the same way.

Sometimes we think we need more of everything. More work, more relationships, more commitments, more advice, more access, more proving, more doing.

But sometimes we don’t need more.

We need what actually nourishes us.

Water yourself.

But water yourself appropriately.

There Is Something About It Being a Money Tree

And then I remembered what kind of tree this is.

A money tree. These trees have long been associated with prosperity, good fortune, abundance and positive energy. I don’t believe a plant sitting in my house is going to magically create wealth, but I do appreciate the symbolism.

Abundance. Growth. Prosperity. New possibilities.

And here mine was, looking completely finished while something was happening underneath the soil that I couldn’t see.

That part stayed with me.

How many times have we mistaken not seeing anything for nothing happening?

I think about my own life.

There have been seasons when things didn’t look the way I thought they should look. I’ve experienced loss, transition, rejection, disappointment, relationships changing and doors closing. There were moments when I couldn’t see what was next.

But my life wasn’t over.

My roots were still alive.

My gifts didn’t disappear because one opportunity ended. My purpose didn’t die because somebody stopped calling. My value didn’t decrease because a door closed. My ability to grow wasn’t determined by what had fallen away.

And neither is yours.

New Growth May Not Look Like the Old Growth

What I love most about these new leaves is where they are growing.

They aren’t growing where the old leaves were.

They’re growing lower on the tree. That made me think too. Sometimes we spend so much time waiting for life to grow back exactly the way it was before that we miss the fact that new life is showing up somewhere else.

Maybe the next season isn’t about recreating the old one.

Maybe new growth is going to come through different people, different opportunities, different dreams, different priorities and a different version of you.

And because we’ve been staring at the old branches, we almost miss the green leaves forming down below.

It May Look Dead. Look Again.

If you’re in a season where something seems finished, don’t be too quick to declare the whole thing dead.

Some things truly are over, and we have to accept that. But you are not over because a season is.

Your soul still has roots. Your wisdom, your experiences, your faith, your creativity and your ability to dream again are still there.

And sometimes, after what feels like a very long season of nothing happening, all of a sudden, a little green appears.

Then another leaf.

Then another.

And you realize what you thought was dying may have actually been preparing to grow differently.

So tend to yourself.

Give attention to the places you’ve neglected. Prune what needs pruning. Release what has completed its season. Repot yourself if you’ve outgrown the space you’ve been trying to survive in.

And water yourself.

Appropriately.

Because you may not be looking at the end at all.

You may be looking at the space right before new life.

My little money tree isn’t dead yet.

Quite the opposite.

It’s growing again.

And so am I.