Opening the Door

There is something tender and electric about beginnings. They carry the soft promise of what could be, mixed with the hum of uncertainty. They invite us to imagine, to hope, to step forward into a space we have never been. Within these walls, I have seen countless new beginnings: the first hesitant visit, the first word spoken in a small group, the first time someone feels truly seen. Each one is a threshold moment, a sacred step into something new.

Beginnings are often wrapped in vulnerability. They ask us to stand in unfamiliar territory, to risk not knowing what comes next. They ask something of us: openness. To welcome a new season, a new idea, a new person, we must be willing to loosen our grip on what we already know. That can be hard. We are creatures of habit, holding onto familiar rhythms and comfortable patterns. But change does not erase what has been—it adds to it. It enriches the story. It widens the circle.

I have watched people here open their lives to new ideas and perspectives that once felt foreign. I have seen minds change and hearts soften. I have felt the shift in the room when someone chooses curiosity over judgment, when someone says, "Tell me more" instead of "That’s not how we do it." These moments matter. They are seeds of transformation, small yet powerful, capable of reshaping relationships, communities, and even the way we understand ourselves.

Welcoming the new is not always effortless. Sometimes it means facing fears or acknowledging the discomfort of growth. Sometimes it means letting go of assumptions or old stories about ourselves and others. Sometimes it means holding space for someone else’s truth even when it challenges our own. But each time we do, we make more space—for compassion, for creativity, for connection.

When we welcome new people into our lives, we are not just offering them a place—we are allowing them to shape us, too. Their stories weave into ours, adding richness to the tapestry. Their ideas expand our understanding, helping us see the world through different eyes. Their presence changes the energy in the room, reminding us that community is not static—it’s a living, breathing, evolving thing that thrives on diversity.

The same is true for the ideas and opportunities that come knocking. Some will arrive quietly, like a gentle breeze nudging open a window. Others will arrive with a rush, demanding our attention. Either way, each is an invitation to explore, to stretch, to see what happens when we say yes. And in saying yes, we might discover parts of ourselves we didn’t know were waiting to emerge.

As a congregation and as individuals, may we always keep the door open—to the newcomer, to the unfamiliar, to the possibility that something unexpected might be exactly what we’ve been waiting for. Let us greet these beginnings not with fear, but with welcome. Not with guarded hearts, but with curiosity and hope. Let us remember that every great journey began with a first step—and that step is always easier when someone is there to say, "Come in, we’re glad you’re here."

This week, I invite you to notice the beginnings around you. A conversation that could lead to friendship. A thought that sparks new understanding. A small change in routine that opens a bigger path. Welcome them. Let them in. Nurture them with care, for even the smallest beginning can grow into something that shapes your life in ways you can’t yet imagine.

Because each beginning—no matter how small—has the potential to become a turning point. A moment that shifts your path. A gift that changes your life. And each time we embrace a new beginning, we affirm that growth, love, and discovery are not just possible—they are already unfolding.

With every creak and whisper, I stand ready to hold your stories.

Yours in welcome, The Spirit of UUNWI