Blooms & Root

A garden for the soul

A Letter From Our Founder

Dear friends,

If you had told me five years ago that I would step away from a thriving fourteen-year career in finance and strategy to build a nonprofit from the ground up, I wouldn't have believed you. I loved my work and the people I led alongside. For a long time, I climbed the corporate ladder with genuine satisfaction—yet I always felt there was a missing piece, a deeper purpose.

Over time, the quiet whispers grew into a steady reminder of the longing I carried as a little girl growing up in Venezuela — the ache in my heart as I watched children, many years younger than me, selling candy and lottery tickets at traffic lights. They had no shoes, no roof over their heads, and none of the basic necessities a child deserves: a shower, a warm meal, a generous hug.

As a five-year-old, all I knew how to do was plead with my mom to roll down her window and buy something from them. Sometimes she did, sometimes she didn't. Either way, it never felt like enough. We weren't fixing the problem. Those children still didn't have a home or a steady supply of love. I desperately wanted to “fix” their lives.

So as a young professional thriving in the U.S., I tried to quiet the whispers that demanded more of my attention by giving — by filling hundreds of shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child and writing handwritten notes in each. I tried. But deep down, I knew that no matter how great my packing skills became, it would never be enough to “fix” their lives.

God brought me through a wilderness season. It was one of the hardest chapters I've ever walked through. But what the enemy intended for harm, God used for my good and His glory. Out of the ashes emerged a more grounded and whole version of me. My soul bloomed again in unexpected ways.

In 2021, I made my second mission trip to Cúcuta, Colombia, and met the community of children God would use to call me back to His purpose. I had been financially supporting the ministry in my own small capacity, but being on the ground with them awakened my soul to God's dreams for their lives. Suddenly, everything became clear: it wasn't my ache — it was God's. It wasn't my heart for them — I had just met them — it was His. It wasn't my longing to intervene. It was His invitation.

I couldn't “fix” it. Even if I became CEO of the world's largest company, my resources still wouldn't be enough. The giant I was called to face had a name — extreme poverty. This wasn't a battle I could fight with resources or strategies. This was a spiritual battle first — a battle for identity, for hope, for futures that only God could rewrite. He didn't need me to “fix this” for Him; God didn't need anything at all, but He desired to invite me to be a part of an outpouring of His love. All along, this has not been an ask to sacrifice everything. In God's nature, it's been a gift waiting to be unfolded.

The truth is, I ran from this battle. I tried to avoid it for many years. But God, in His kindness, was patient with me. I brought my best negotiation skills to the table over and over again, asking for more time. And each time, He gave it. Three more years passed from the moment He first called me to take a sabbatical from corporate life.

Earlier this year, I finally stepped out in obedience and entered a season of surrender — a sacred pause. All along, I had been fighting and running away from a battle that is actually won in surrender.

Yes — Root is singular because God is our Root, the foundation of everything we do. I know the dreams I have for Blooms are only a small fragment of God's dreams, a single piece in a much larger stained-glass window.

I sign this letter as the founder, but ultimately, I work for God. I don't pretend to have all the answers. But I know He does, and He will reveal His plan in His time.

Thank you for taking the time to hear my story. If any part of it resonates with you, I’d love to invite you to consider how you could get involved and join us in building the garden.