Spring and the Quiet Work of Beginning Again
Spring arrives softly here.
Not all at once, but in small moments you could easily miss if you are not paying attention. The first green pushing through the soil. Peach branches swelling with the promise of blossoms. A warmer breeze moving across the pasture where winter once held everything still.
Spring is a season of beginnings, but also of courage.
The earth must loosen what it has been holding. Seeds must break open before they grow. Roots push downward into the dark before anything blooms toward the light.
There is a quiet lesson in that.
We too must set down roots before we can rise. Roots into what matters, faith, land, family, purpose. The deeper the roots, the steadier the growth. Storms will come, as they always do, but what is well rooted bends rather than breaks.
Spring reminds us that growth is rarely loud.
Most of it happens quietly, beneath the surface.
New ideas begin the same way. They start as small stirrings. A thought. A curiosity. A sense that something new wants to grow. If we are patient enough to nurture it, to give it space and time, those ideas eventually take shape.
Blooming comes later.
And sometimes, blooming means letting go.
Old worries. Old hurts. Old stories we have carried longer than we needed to. Just as the trees release their leaves each year to make room for new life, we are invited to release what no longer belongs in the season ahead.
Letting go is not losing. It is making space.
Space for growth.
Space for beauty.
Space for something we could not yet imagine.
And when the time is right, what has been quietly growing inside us begins to rise. Like wildflowers across a field or birds lifting into the morning sky, there comes a moment when rooted things also take flight.
Spring holds both truths.
First we root.
Then we bloom.
And sometimes, we fly.
Until next time, be kind to each other.
xoxo
Cindy
Ecclesiastes 3:1