Spring is in the air. A time of renewal and rebirth. One of my favorite things to witness is the fresh, new green leaves reemerging on cottonwood trees as they awaken from their winter slumber. That green is so vibrant and clean, shimmering in the sun, quietly announcing that a new season has arrived. All around us, we see regeneration at work—the revitalization of life so that all may continue to live, grow, and enjoy the gift of being here.
This season of renewal is not just something happening in nature. It is something happening within us, too—if we allow it.
I recently attended the Council on Foundations conference. The theme was Building Together. At first glance, the phrase seemed simple, even ordinary. But what unfolded over three days was anything but. There were deep, heartfelt conversations about how we understand and address our differences, our divides, and our vulnerabilities in ways that still allow us to see the humanity of others—despite disagreements, despite differing worldviews.
That kind of work is not easy. It requires self-reflection. It requires us to learn, and in some cases, to reprogram our own thinking. It asks us to unwire learned patterns of misjudgment and to confront the quiet assumptions we carry about one another. Unfortunately, much of our learned behavior is rooted in misjudgment—shaped by perception, fear, and a natural instinct for self-preservation. These instincts, meant to protect us, can also cause us to see others through a lens of suspicion, division and fear.
And yet, spring reminds us that dormancy is not permanent. Renewal is always possible.
This month, millions will gather to celebrate graduates at every level. We will come together to honor their achievements, to recognize their potential, and to encourage them as they step into what comes next. For a moment, we see each student clearly—not through assumptions or fear, but through hope and pride. We celebrate who they are and who they might become.
We will also celebrate mothers and life-givers, offering gratitude for their love and sacrifices and praying for their health and well-being. Many of us will plant flowers and tend gardens, placing seeds into the soil with the anticipation of growth and life.
These moments may seem unrelated: the cottonwood leaves, the conference conversations, the graduation ceremonies, Mother’s Day, the planting of gardens. But they are deeply connected.
They all point back to our shared humanity.
We are all of this earth. We all came from a mother. We have all learned and experienced things that have shaped our perceptions—sometimes in ways that divide us. But just like the mighty cottonwood tree, we too have the capacity for renewal. We can grow new leaves of understanding. We can question our fears. We can challenge the narratives we have inherited. We can choose to see our neighbors not through the lens of division, but through the lens of shared life.
When we do this, something remarkable happens. We begin to treat one another with the same dignity and possibility that we offer a graduate walking across the stage. We begin to recognize that every person carries a story, a struggle, a hope, and a future worth honoring.
I invite you this season to renew the conditions where humanity can flourish again. To allow new leaves of compassion, understanding, and grace to emerge.
And in doing so, we may discover that the renewal we admire in nature has been waiting all along to take root within us.
Sincerely,
Justin Kíí Huenemann
President and CEO
New Mexico Community Foundation