07/04/2026
New beginnings do not always arrive with trumpets or fanfare.
A cracked seed dares to reach upward, knowing that it might be met with winter.
A bird sings, not because it is certain of spring, but because the song inside it has waited long enough.
We open doors, not because we are certain of what lies behind them, but because it is the only way we can move forward.
New beginnings are not just about what has passed, but about what perseveres and what is still to come. Like the quiet courage that breathes in the background, and the resilience that is resurrected every time we fall and choose to rise again.
They remind us that beginnings are not always grand things—they are often small, almost invisible. A tiny bud breaking the ground's surface. A door opened, just a crack. A hand reaching out, not knowing if it will be met.
And so we begin again. Not because we must, but because the world leans toward life. Because even after the darkest days, something inside us continues to turn toward the sun and sing. Because buried things can bloom.
No, new beginnings are not always announced by trumpets and fanfare and flourish;
but by the steady beat of a heart
ready and willing
to breathe again.
*****
Becky Hemsley 2025
Beautiful artwork by Lovetta Reyes Cairo
A little poem on new beginnings for this Easter week
