The Beauty of Small Beginnings

We live in a world that celebrates the big moments—milestones, promotions, grand gestures, and picture-perfect announcements. It’s easy to believe that progress only counts if it’s loud, visible, and impressive enough to post online. But the truth is, most of the beautiful transformations in life don’t start with fireworks. They start quietly, in the unseen, in the moments no one else is clapping for. They begin small.

Small beginnings are easy to overlook because they don’t look like much. A seed is buried in the dirt, unseen for weeks before it dares to break through the surface. The first rays of dawn are soft and pale, not blinding like the midday sun. Even a great journey starts with nothing more than the decision to take one small step forward. In my own life, I’ve learned that the most meaningful change isn’t about one huge leap—it’s about stringing together small steps, day after day, until one day you look back and realize how far you’ve come.

When you’re going through something hard, like walking through the uncertainty of my husband’s PNES diagnosis, it’s easy to get lost in the “all or nothing” mindset. You want a solution. You want healing. You want the weight lifted all at once. But often, God doesn’t work that way. Instead, He gives us small mercies, quiet victories, and glimpses of light in the dark—each one a seed of hope planted in our hearts.

I think of the times when the smallest things have made the biggest difference:

• A good night’s sleep after weeks of restless nights.
• A moment of laughter breaking the tension of a hard day.
• A friend who sends a text out of the blue, reminding you that you’re not forgotten.
• A morning where my husband wakes up without fear in his eyes.

None of those moments would make the evening news. They’re not the kind of stories people write headlines about. But they are life-giving. They are the reminders that even when the journey is long, God is moving in the details.

The beauty of small beginnings is that they teach us patience. We live in a microwave culture, but God is a slow cooker God. He lets things simmer and develop, shaping us in the process. And though waiting can be hard—painfully hard—it allows us to notice things we would otherwise rush past. We learn to appreciate the quiet before the breakthrough, the strength that builds in the in-between.

Small beginnings also give us space to grow without the pressure of perfection. When a seed breaks through the soil, no one criticizes it for being tiny. They celebrate the fact that it’s alive. We need to extend that same grace to ourselves. Celebrate the little wins: getting out of bed on a hard day, showing up for your loved one, taking time to rest when your body and soul are weary. Those are seeds, too, and they are worth honoring.

There’s also a quiet trust that forms in small beginnings. You don’t always see the outcome right away, but you believe it’s coming. You water the seed, you nurture it, and you wait. And somewhere deep down, you trust that the God who made the oak tree can bring beauty from your little acorn of faith.

One of my favorite verses says, “Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin” (Zechariah 4:10). That means God isn’t just standing at the finish line, waiting to congratulate us once we’ve arrived. He’s right here, in the messy middle, celebrating the fact that we’ve started at all. He’s not disappointed in our slow progress. He’s delighted in our willingness to take the next step.

If you’ve been holding off on starting something because it feels too small—stop waiting. Start where you are, with what you have. Make the call. Take the walk. Write the first sentence. Offer the first prayer. Smile at the stranger. Whatever your “seed” is, plant it today and trust that it will grow in its season.

And if you’re in the middle of something hard, where small beginnings don’t feel like enough, I understand. I’m there, too. But I’m learning that those little glimmers of hope matter more than we realize. They’re not just random good moments—they’re breadcrumbs from God, leading us toward something greater.

One day, you’ll look back on the road you’ve walked and see that every small step was part of a much bigger picture. The sleepless nights, the tears, the whispered prayers, the tiny bursts of joy—all of it will make sense in the light of the finished work. You’ll see that what you thought was just barely surviving was actually the quiet, steady work of thriving in disguise.

So don’t despise the day of small beginnings. Let them be your reminder that big things grow slow, that faith is strengthened in the waiting, and that God is as present in the planting as He is in the harvest. One day, the seed you plant today will shade you tomorrow. And when that day comes, you’ll realize that the beauty of small beginnings is that they’re never really small at all—they’re the start of something extraordinary.