Shannon's Corner

  Every spring in Pennsylvania tells a different story. One day brings sunshine and warmth, the next returns with biting wind or an unexpected chill. Just last week, temperatures climbed into the upper eighties—nearly ninety degrees—only to fall back into the forties days later. It can feel disorienting. Almost like the season can’t decide if it’s ready to move forward. And if you’ve ever walked through a life transition, you know this feeling well. There are moments when everything seems to open up—clarity comes, energy returns, and hope begins to rise. You start to believe you’re finally stepping into something new. And then, just as quickly, things shift. Doubt creeps in. Progress feels stalled. You find yourself revisiting old patterns, old emotions, or unexpected setbacks. It can feel like one step forward and two steps back. This back-and-forth is one of the most discouraging parts of transition. It can make you question everything—your decisions, your direction, even your ab...

 If you’ve ever driven through a landscape of rolling hills, you know the feeling. One moment you’re climbing engine working harder, vision narrowing to what’s immediately ahead. Then you crest the top, and suddenly the world opens. You can see where you’ve been. You catch a glimpse of what’s coming. And for a brief moment, everything makes a little more sense. Life transitions often feel like those hills. But when we are  in  them, we rarely experience them as scenic. We feel the incline. We feel the resistance. We feel the uncertainty of not knowing what lies just beyond the rise. When you’re in the middle of a life transition, your perspective is naturally limited.  You’re navigating loss, change, and often an identity shift all at once. Your energy is focused on getting through the day, making decisions, holding things together. It can feel like: “Why is this so hard?” “Why can’t I see what’s next?” “Will this ever level out?” From within the hill, it’s easy to a...

  Traveling this past weekend, my eyes delighted in the beauty of spring all around me. Everywhere I looked there were signs of life awakening. Trees covered in buds and some already flowering. Tulips and daffodils standing bright against the earth. Grass turning a deeper green. Even calves in the fields, wobbly and new. Spring has a way of catching our attention. Something about it invites us to pause, even if just for a moment, and take in the beauty unfolding around us. New life is emerging. And yet, spring is not always gentle. It can be a hard season. The weather shifts back and forth between warm and cold, sunshine and storms. The ground is still recovering from winter. New growth pushes through soil that has been frozen and hardened. It takes resilience for new life to emerge. In many ways, our life transitions mirror the rhythm of spring. After seasons of loss, change, or uncertainty, we often long for clear signs that something new is beginning. But renewal rarely arrives ...