It is hard to explain why, though I am certain many others can relate, but there’s something about September that has always felt more like a new year to me than January ever could. Maybe it’s because I have spent so many years of my life driven by the school calendar. Maybe it’s the shift of the light, or maybe it’s simply the rhythm of my own life. For me, September holds that quiet energy of beginnings with fresh notebooks, sharpened pencils, and a crispness in the morning air that whispers, you can start again.
September is also my birthday month, which only deepens the sense of renewal. Another year of life, another chance to step into what matters most. As I get older (or wiser) I find myself both reflecting on what has been and reaching for what could be. It is a season of revealing, of putting into the world what has been stirring inside me.
This year, September feels especially poignant. My son is stepping into his military career, a new path that will demand courage, discipline, and resilience, qualities that I know he possesses but which haven’t always come easily to him. Watching him prepare to put on the uniform for the first time reminds me that courage takes many forms. It is in the young adult leaving home to pursue a calling. It is in the child walking into their first classroom with a backpack too big for their shoulders. It’s the mama letting go to let their little one learn, grow and soar. And it is in each of us when we choose to begin something new, even when we feel unsure.
September teaches me that growth doesn’t always show itself immediately. Sometimes the most important work is still happening underneath the surface: roots deepening, foundations being laid, the unseen becoming strong enough to hold what is coming next.
For me, September is an invitation to breathe deeply, to trust the process, and to keep building. It is a reminder that we don’t have to wait for everything to be perfect before we begin. We simply must begin.
So here’s to September. To fresh starts, to courage, to new seasons. To opening the doors, even if the paint is still drying and the floors have yet to be installed, and inviting others in. To showing up with what we have, knowing that it is more than enough. And here’s to each of you who are stepping into a new role, a new adventure, a new chapter of life. May we all find joy in the uncertainty and peace in the chaos.
Christine Sharpe: Writer, Speaker, Leader . 
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