We stopped using the barbecue a few years ago. Now we grow chard, leeks and kale in our Weber grill out back. My wife and I aren’t vegetarians, but we’ve become veggie centric since three family members died in one devastating year.

Not only does the repurposed grill serve us better, it communicates where we stand on the eating plants vs eating animals continuum. A subversive, feel good statement if ever there was one. For me, it comes down to making choices that generate less internal conflict. Quiet the chaos inside and your stress load drops.

Basically, we’re out to harmonize our lives with what we believe. Along those lines, my wife and I followed through on a decision to buy a vertical, aeroponic growing system with a small environmental footprint: a Tower Garden. Add the mineral blend from your starter kit to a reservoir filled with 20 gallons of water and you can become more self-reliant, stop worrying about Roundup or GMOs, and maybe even inspire family and friends to start growing their own food.

A bowl of cereal in hand, I was surveying our backyard from the deck one morning. On one side, we had tomato plants my father-in-law gave us that conquered their cages weeks ago. The vegetables growing in the grill against the fence were looking pretty good. And we had cherry tomatoes, basil, cucumbers, peppers, more chard and more kale growing in the Tower. We'd eaten lettuce from it already and the plants had all grown well since I made a ph adjustment. We were four weeks into it then. There were no baby cukes yet, but I noticed little yellow flowers blooming, and the plant seemed to be getting a bit heavy. I reached down absently and barely lifted a vine before hearing it crack. My heart sank. I felt ridiculously sad and really, really mad at myself. A single question looped in my head, “Why didn’t I put up the support cage?”

To relieve strain on the vine, I propped up the plant with a box I found and tried putting thin strips of electrical tape around the wound. I had to go, and it must have rained all day, fierce downpours with strong directional winds making conditions hazardous at times. Wrapped in guilt, I was undone by the image of the plant I’d damaged getting hammered by the driving rain.

The funny thing is I’m a coach. I have skills to help with emotionally charged situations, but I hadn’t put any of them to use to help myself here. Like taking note of my own breathing, for instance. A valuable tool, but regret kept dragging me back to the support cage. If only I’d installed the cage when I put up the Tower, the plant would have been fine. Breathe. Those seedlings were a long way from needing support back then. Breathe. Is it ever too late to do the right thing?

At the scene of the crime, I discovered that my tape job hadn’t even covered the right place on the vine, but that didn’t matter at all. My sadness had shifted, my guilt was long gone and the plant was showing me it could heal itself. I was grateful, waiting for my wife to come help me set up the cage, anticipating the harvest to come.