Before a baby ever takes that first independent step, there is a whole world of learning happening quietly beneath the surface. Long before the wobbling, before the tentative letting go, a baby has to discover her own center of gravity. She practices rolling, sitting, pulling up on furniture. She learns balance in the most unsteady ways—falling onto soft mats, catching herself, trying again. Her muscles strengthen day by day, long before anyone sees the big moment.
It’s a reminder that fresh beginnings don’t start with the step—we start with the learning.
We begin with strengthening unseen muscles: courage, self-belief, readiness, trust.
I think about that every time Christmas comes around, because one of the most magical moments of my life happened on a Christmas just like that. My daughter—only ten months old—took her very first unaided baby steps right in the middle of the holiday bustle. One moment she was holding onto the coffee table, and the next she simply… let go. And walked. Three determined little steps, full of wonder, wobble, and wide-eyed courage towards the outreached arms of my grandmother Betty. A tiny beginning wrapped in twinkling lights.
And now, I have the privileged opportunity to watch my seven-month-old granddaughter doing the work, every day. Every chance she gets, she scans for a the right support aid, so she can pull herself upright, steadying her chubby little hands on whatever she can grip. I see the same process unfolding. She wobbles. She studies. She builds strength in silence.
She doesn’t realize she’s preparing—she’s simply following her instincts toward “more.” Toward who she is becoming.
That’s the magic of baby steps:
They look small from the outside, but they represent an entire journey of becoming.
A fresh beginning is rarely loud. It doesn’t announce itself. We may not realise we’ve been preparing for the moment. We may not even think that we are acting on instinct.
Christmas, with all its themes of birth, renewal, and new light, reminds us that every new chapter begins quietly, long before the world sees the first step.
But it grows underneath us until one day we catch our balance, take a breath, and move forward—wobbly, brave, and beautifully unsteady.
And like the babies we once were—and the ones we now hold—we don’t need to rush.
We just need to keep learning, keep strengthening, keep trusting the process of becoming.
Because baby steps may be little, but every one of them is a miracle in motion.
So as this season wraps us in its glow, maybe the invitation is simple — to honour our own baby steps.
Maybe we are asked to recognize the quiet strength it takes to start again, the invisible work we’ve already done, and the courage it takes to let go of what steadied us for so long.
Our beginnings might feel small, but so did theirs — my daughter at ten months, my granddaughter today, and even the tiny steps we all once took.
May we allow ourselves the grace to wobble.
May we celebrate the progress no one else sees. And may this Christmas mark not just a holiday, but a gentle, brave beginning— one small step toward the life that’s waiting for us.
Today, may I recognize all my quiet strength in me
One step at a time
One breath at a time
I shall respect all this quiet work
🙏