Renewal Blooms

By Maria Shriver
February 28, 2026

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Happy first day of March.

Can you believe it’s March already? I can’t. And yet, the bare branches in my backyard are now dotted with tiny buds. When I walk by, I also see small flowers pushing their heads up through the ground as if to whisper, Is it time?

Yes, it’s time.

It’s time to poke your head out. Time to gather your thoughts. Time to speak up about the things that tug at your heart and that occupy your beautiful mind. Time to pay attention to how you’re feeling about what’s going on in our world, as there is so much going on.

The conflict in Iran is a developing story, and it’s a precarious one at that. The president says Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, has been killed. He has urged Iranians to rise up and seize control. That will not be easy, though. No fight for freedom ever is. And while the U.S.-Israeli attacks continue, other countries will have to decide how much they want this to be their fight as well. This is always the challenge: deciding whether to wait or step in and step up. People around the world are now on edge, watching what’s unfolding closely and deciding for themselves how they feel about what’s going on.

Before I woke up to this breaking story yesterday, I spent some time letting my mind wander back to the beginning of the year. I reflected on the columns I’ve written so far, including those about being human in the age of AI, about safeguarding our democracy, and about finding common ground in divided times. Is there a theme running through all of these? I asked myself.

Yes, there is. It’s an unwavering belief in the strength of the human spirit. Your spirit, my spirit, and the spirit of those putting their lives on the line for what they believe in.

My friends, I believe each of us is here for a reason. I believe each of us can be a light in another person’s life. And I believe that together, we can move ourselves and humanity forward in profound ways.

Years ago, on this very day, my uncle, President John F. Kennedy, signed the Peace Corps into law. My father became its first director and was charged with turning an idea rooted in idealism into a living, breathing reality.

And a reality it became. Hundreds of thousands of Americans have since answered a call deep in their souls to serve. To teach. To learn. To step up. To build bridges across cultures and continents. To live not as strangers, but as neighbors.

Today, a Peace Corps commemorative park is being built in Washington, D.C., to honor those who have served and the bridges they built. It stands as a reminder that service is not an abstract idea. It is a lived commitment. (You can learn more about it here.)

My father loved the Peace Corps and its volunteers. And not a week goes by that someone doesn’t stop me to tell me they served or that someone they love did. They also tell me that their lives were changed. And so were the lives of the communities they served.

But here’s what I know: That spirit was never meant for one era alone. It lives in us.

We were not put on this Earth to long for a time gone by. We are here to make our time matter now. Yes, a president calling us up can be stirring and inspiring. But we do not have to wait for that. The call is already within us.

It stirs when we witness injustice. When U.S. women’s hockey captain Hilary Knight reminded us recently that “women aren’t less than,” she wasn’t just defending a team. She was defending dignity.

The call can also stir us when leaders choose cooperation over division. When governors stand together and say their desire to work across party lines matters more than party loyalty, that too is a call upward. It awakens when we recognize suffering. It strengthens when we see what's possible. Both are in full view every single day if we are willing to notice.

Here is the truth: A friend can call us up. A child can call us up. A community can call us up. And perhaps most powerfully, we can call ourselves up. Calmly and confidently.

Remember, spring does not shout. It does not demand attention. It simply begins again.

Renewal is quiet before it is visible. Faithful before it is celebrated. Rooted before it blooms. It begins underground, in conscience, in courage, in choice.

So this spring, let us not romanticize another generation’s moment. Let us recognize the beauty of our own. The call is already within us. See it not as pressure, but as promise—your very own promise.

The call rises when we defend someone’s dignity. It rises when we choose understanding over outrage. It rises when we extend a hand instead of turning away.

We may not always feel powerful. But we are powerful in ways that matter. A single act of service matters. A single bridge we can build matters. A single moment of courage matters. A single moment when you decide to speak up matters.

Remember how last week I wrote that nothing matters and yet everything matters? Well, what truly matters is our fellow human beings. And there are plenty who lift me up every single day.

People serving. People carrying on. People trying. People being vulnerable. People sharing their strengths and, yes, their failures. People risking their lives for their country. That matters.

The human spirit has not dimmed since the day the Peace Corps became a reality. It is still here. It is still capable of generosity, of bravery, of grace. It lives in you. It lives in me. It lives in all of us.

So may this new month not simply mark the turning of a season, but instead be the gentle reminder that something beautiful is always waiting to bloom within us and between us.

And may we step into this season not burdened, but buoyed by the quiet, enduring light we carry within ourselves and that others carry within themselves. May we walk into this season with confidence that we are here to make a difference. And may we not tremble under the news, which can be so scary. May we rise above, certain that our moment awaits us. Because believe me, it does.