Last Sunday came and went without a story.
For the first time since I started writing here, I missed my Sunday ritual.
At first, I felt guilty. I had made a promise to myself that every Sunday I would sit down, reflect on the week, and write. But life had other plans.
A project came up, I packed a suitcase, and I headed out of town. And honestly? That’s exactly what I’ve been hoping would happen.
For a while now, I’ve been waiting for the next chapter to unfold. It’s a strange season to be in—that place between what was and what comes next. Some days it feels exciting. Other days it feels incredibly uncertain.
A potential opportunity reminded me why hope is so important. It gave me a little spark that perhaps things are beginning to move in the right direction.
Now I’m home, looking out my window again.
The little tree I’ve written about before—the one I thought was gone after months of construction and damaged roots—is changing every day. What started as two tiny leaves has become branches filled with fresh green growth.
It’s no longer just surviving.
It’s blooming.
Every morning there seems to be another leaf, another branch reaching a little farther toward the sun.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s quietly reminding me of something.
Growth is often happening long before we can fully see it.
Sometimes we’re so focused on the timeline we’ve created that we miss the progress unfolding right in front of us.
Maybe opportunities are like that too.
Maybe they’re taking root beneath the surface while we’re wondering if anything is happening at all.
As I wait to hear about this latest work prospect, I find myself looking at that tree a little differently.
Instead of asking, “When is something going to happen?”
I’m starting to ask, “What if it’s already beginning?”
I don’t know what comes next.
None of us ever really do.
But if that little tree can come back stronger than I ever imagined, maybe there’s a lesson in that for me too.
So this week, I’m choosing hope.
I’m choosing patience.
And every time I look out my window and see that tree continuing to bloom, I’ll take it as a reminder to keep believing that good things often arrive quietly before they arrive all at once.
Until next Sunday,
Marisa