Recovery begins from the darkest moment.

“Recovery begins from the darkest moment.” So spoke John Major, a leader who himself rose from hardship and trial, and in this saying he revealed a truth as old as the turning of the seasons: that the point of deepest night is also the threshold of dawn. When despair seems total and hope seems extinguished, it is there, in the ashes of defeat, that the seed of recovery is first planted. For only when we descend into the valley of shadows do we find the path that leads upward again.

The ancients knew this rhythm well. The Greeks told of Persephone, who descended into the underworld each year, only for spring to blossom at her return. The Christians proclaim that resurrection comes only after crucifixion. Across all traditions runs this eternal law: darkness is not the end, but the womb of renewal. It is in the hour when strength is spent, when pride is broken, when all illusions fall away, that the soul finds the raw material from which to rebuild.

History bears witness. Consider the tale of Winston Churchill in the darkest hours of the Second World War. Britain stood alone, cities were burning, enemies seemed unstoppable. That moment was the abyss, when despair could have devoured the nation. Yet it was precisely from that depth that the spirit of resistance rose. From the darkest moment, recovery began, fueled not by ease but by courage, endurance, and faith. The fire of survival was lit in the very heart of ruin.

So too in the personal journey of Nelson Mandela, who spent long years in prison under a system designed to break him. Those years were his darkest moments, filled with loss and isolation. Yet it was there that he forged patience, wisdom, and resolve. It was from the shadows of his cell that his recovery, and indeed the recovery of his nation, began. His suffering became the foundation of renewal, showing the world that light is born only when darkness has done its deepest work.

O children of tomorrow, do not despair when you find yourself in darkness. Do not think the night eternal, nor believe that ruin is final. Remember instead that the turning point is at hand, that recovery begins precisely when you have fallen to the lowest depth. For the heart must be stripped bare to discover its true strength, and the soul must touch despair to awaken to hope. The darkest moment is not the end; it is the threshold of rebirth.

The lesson is clear: embrace your darkest hours as the soil of transformation. Practically, let each person do this: when you find yourself in despair, do not flee from it, but face it with courage. Speak your pain, endure your trial, and then look for the smallest spark—a word of kindness, a memory of love, a glimmer of faith. Hold on to that spark, and let it grow. Build daily habits of endurance—reflection, gratitude, small acts of progress—so that recovery becomes not sudden miracle but steady dawn.

Thus remember John Major’s words: “Recovery begins from the darkest moment.” Carry them in your heart when shadows fall heavy. For when you stand at the bottom of the valley, know this: you are already at the place where ascent begins. And the dawn will surely come, for no night can hold back the sun, and no darkness can keep a soul from rising again.