Wings

Today felt like it needed wings.

So I painted a butterfly.

There are moments when symbolism practically raises its hand and says, Pick me.
A new day.
A new month.
A brand-new year.
Hello, 2026—nice to meet you.

Butterflies have impeccable timing. They never rush the process, yet somehow arrive exactly when they’re meant to. They remind us that becoming takes time, and that transformation doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.

This one is soft and quiet. Muted blues. Gentle edges. A little shimmer if you look closely—because even beginnings deserve a bit of sparkle. It feels fitting for Day 1: not bold declarations or fireworks, but a calm unfolding. A deep breath. A sense of possibility.

I love that butterflies begin in stillness. Hidden. Patient. Doing the unseen work.
And then—when the time is right—they fly.

That feels like the energy I want for this year.
No rushing.
No forcing.
Just becoming.

I have two priceless memories I treasure with my kids that involve butterflies. The first is with my daughter, Lindsay. She "grew" caterpillars when she was in kindergarten. The day they came out of their cocoons, she played with them for a bit. One crawlded on her nose and opened it's wings for the first time. I captured that moment and cherish that photo to this day. That same sweet girl got engaged to be married just last weekend and I can't wait for this year to unfold and watch her be a beautiful bride, married to her sweet, Clark.

The second memory involves my son. We were on his college campus (Abilene Christian University and there we saw thousands of monarch butterflies in a tree. It was a stunning site I'll never forget and sharing that memory with him is one I'll always cherish.

For those of us who have experienced trauma ( of many kinds) we are familiar with "triggers." I choose to not give those any credence but instead, I enjoy "glimmers." These are reminders of wonderful moments that I get to gather up and ponder in my heart.

So here’s my small thing for today: a butterfly that represents fresh starts, gentle growth, and the quiet confidence of knowing change is not something to fear—it’s something to welcome.

If you’re painting along, maybe today is about what you’re becoming too.
Or maybe it’s just about noticing beauty where you are.

Either way, I’m glad you’re here at the beginning with me.
One small thing.
One day at a time.
Wings optional—but encouraged.