Shannon's Corner

  Dictionary.com defines a boundary as “a line or limit where one thing ends and another begins.”   In life and transitions, boundaries help us understand where  we  end and where  another  begins. They give shape to our identity, our relationships, and the ways we show up in the world.   One way to explore your boundaries is by understanding your limitations—what is within your ability and what is not. Begin by identifying your skillsets, gifts, talents, and education. Reflect on how far you are able to use these strengths in your current role or situation before you reach a point where you can no longer move forward effectively.   As a Life Transitions Coach, I regularly check in with my own limitations—recognizing where my expertise ends and when it’s time to consult or refer clients to others who specialize in areas beyond my scope. This awareness not only keeps me grounded in integrity but also ensures that those I serve r...

  Life transitions—whether they arrive expected or uninvited—can shake our sense of stability. Resilience doesn’t mean avoiding the discomfort of transition; it means learning how to move through it with strength and adaptability.   Resilience in transition begins with self-awareness. Naming what you’re experiencing—loss, uncertainty, or even excitement—creates space for honesty. From there, resilience is strengthened by connection. Leaning on trusted friends, mentors, or supportive communities reminds us that we don’t have to carry everything alone. Sharing our stories, listening to others, and leaning into support strengthens our capacity to carry uncertainty.   Another key is flexibility. Transitions often bring detours we didn’t plan for. Holding loosely to old expectations while staying open to new possibilities allows growth to emerge. Alongside flexibility, nurturing small daily rhythms—such as rest, gratitude practices, or time in nature—provides a ...

  When life shifts, it can feel like the ground beneath us has moved. Roles change, relationships evolve, and the boundaries that once gave us a sense of stability may no longer hold the same shape. In these moments, it’s easy to feel unsettled or even lost. But here’s the truth: boundaries are not just about restriction; they are about direction. They remind us of what matters most and help us live in alignment with our values. When the old markers fall away, new boundaries can emerge—ones that guide us into growth, rest, or deeper connection. Resilience in transitions isn’t about bouncing back to what was. It’s about discovering how to move forward with steadiness, even when the path looks different than before. Sometimes the “pleasant places” aren’t immediately obvious, but they become clear as we pause, reflect, and choose to trust that new boundaries can bring new freedom. As you navigate your own transitions, consider: Where do you need to redraw a boundary to protect your en...

SHANNON’S CORNER Connect. Nurture. Grow. Thank you for your faithfulness in praying for this ministry.  Each debrief is a sacred invitation—a chance to step into someone’s story, even if only for a short stretch of the journey.  It feels a bit like being allowed to glimpse a painting still in progress.  We may not yet see the final picture, but we trust the One who promises to complete the good work He has begun until the day of Christ Jesus (Phil. 1:6). Recently, in an online debrief, the missionary shared: “ I am in a much better place since our initial meeting.  Taking the time to process my lived experience overseas and to grieve the losses, I now feel I have the capacity to move forward here in my new season of life. ” We also had the joy of walking alongside three third culture children. To see their eyes light up as their stories were received with understanding and care was priceless.  These children do not often have many who truly grasp their unique li...

  An invitation to gather and sit around a campfire. Eating food cooked over the fire, laughter, fellowship, and even comfortable silence. There’s something about a campfire that draws us in. The crackle of wood, the smell of the wood, the shifting glow of embers, the warmth that pushes back the night air—it’s both grounding and mesmerizing. A campfire is more than light and heat; it’s a gathering, a place where stories are told, where silence feels comfortable, and where resilience quietly takes root.   Life transitions often feel like being dropped into the wilderness at night. Uncertain. Unfamiliar. Sometimes overwhelming. But like a campfire, resilience gives us a steady center to gather around.   Think about it: a fire doesn’t just appear. It takes preparation—stacking wood, striking a spark, tending the flame. Resilience is much the same. It’s built from small practices: showing up, reaching out, resting when needed, being grateful, and choosing hope again and again...

Sitting and looking at a scenic overlook while listening about how the name for this retreat center, Tributary , is so meaningful—because there are three waterfalls fed by springs that flow into the creek below us, which then flows into a bigger creek and eventually into the Buffalo National River—it brings to mind how our lives move in much the same way. Life often feels like a river—steady, predictable, flowing in one direction. But sometimes, a tributary comes rushing in, changing the course. A tributary doesn’t stop the river, but it alters its path, forcing the water to find a new way forward. One of my biggest tributaries was burnout. For years, I poured myself out as a nurse and a missionary. My days were full—caring for children and adults, meeting needs, holding responsibilities that felt endless. On the outside, it looked like I was thriving, but inside, I was slowly unraveling. I ignored the signs at first. I told myself to push harder, to keep giving, to hold it all togethe...

  The other day, I paused to notice the trees swaying and dancing in a gentle breeze. Their leaves rustled softly, almost as if they were whispering to one another, creating a melody carried by the wind. In that moment, the trees came alive with their own kind of music.   I was reminded that these breezes, as gentle as they seem, serve a greater purpose. They help the trees grow stronger, preparing them for the inevitable storms ahead. When storms do arrive, the trees respond by driving their roots deeper into the earth, anchoring themselves more firmly so they can withstand the force.   Some trees, like the towering California redwoods, take this resilience a step further. They intertwine their roots with those around them, creating a living network of support. Together, they stand stronger than they ever could alone.   Interestingly, scientists observed this truth in a controlled environment. In a biosphere where conditions were perfect—sunlight, water, nutrients—t...

  When hiking through the mountains, I always carry a backpack. Inside are the essentials for the journey—things I know I’ll need and, at times, a few items I’ve picked up along the way. Friendships and relationships are much the same. Each of us carries a kind of “heart-pack,” filled with experiences, lessons, and people we’ve gathered on our journey.   But like any backpack, what we carry can get heavy. Some things are precious and worth holding onto. Others only weigh us down. Every so often, it helps to pause, open up that heart-pack, and sort through what’s inside.   Here are four categories that can help when unpacking your relationships: Throw Away or Release  – Some friendships or habits no longer serve us. Maybe they’ve become unhealthy, or maybe they were meant only for a season. Letting go doesn’t mean those relationships weren’t meaningful—it just means you’re choosing not to carry what has become a burden. Treasures or Memories  – These are the frie...

  SHANNON’S CORNER Connect. Nurture. Grow. Cherry Run Camp is like being embraced with a soft, comfy-cozy blanket.  It is my happy place.  A place where I find connection, where my well-being is nurtured, and how I grow more into becoming – the Lord’s will be done in me.   It was such a delight to connect with so many of you at camp.  I was overjoyed with the privilege of being one of the bible teachers for the youth.  Together we did a deep dive into the meaning behind the Lord’s Prayer that we often recite but do we truly know, understand, and take to heart what we are reciting?  At the end of the week, I ended up injuring my right foot rushing up the stairs to the sound booth, so I have been in a boot and using crutches as my foot heals.   Experiencing God’s kindness through the thoughtfulness and hands of both those who I know, and strangers as I traveled to San Antonio, TX, my time there, and my travel home was i...

  Friendships matter. They are one of the greatest sources of wholeness and well-being in our lives. The people we walk alongside can become some of our most profound teachers—showing us things about ourselves, about love, and about God.   But when we enter seasons of transition, our relational and emotional capacity often shifts. We may not be able to engage with friends in the same way we once did. That doesn’t mean friendship becomes less important—it means we may need a fresh perspective.   One helpful practice is to map out our friendships in circles. I call this the  Jesus Friendship Model.  When we look at Jesus’ relationships, we see four layers: His three closest disciples His circle of 12 The wider group of 72 The larger crowds   As you reflect on your own relationships, notice which ones feel mutual and life-giving and which ones leave you drained because they are mostly one-sided.   In times of transition, it’s wise to focus on your inner c...

  Some relationships don’t end—they just feel… off. Like you’re talking, but not connecting. Like the rhythm you once shared is now out of step.   If that’s where you are, take heart. It doesn’t always mean something’s broken or something’s ending. It may mean you're growing.   Sometimes the most loving thing is to stay curious, stay honest, and give space. Relationships can recalibrate—but they need room to breathe.   You don’t have to force what isn’t flowing. You can love people even while letting go of how things used to be.

  They shift. Some stretch and grow with you. Some drift quietly into the background. Others may snap under the pressure of change—and that hurts, even when it’s necessary.   When you change—through a move, a new role, a season of healing, or even deep soul work—your relationships can feel unsettled. Sometimes it’s because others don’t know how to meet the “new you.” Sometimes it’s because you’re still learning how to show up differently yourself.   It’s okay to grieve what’s been lost. It’s okay to honor what was. It’s also okay to hold space for new, life-giving connections to form as you continue forward.   Transitions are tender territory for the heart.  Be kind to yourself—and to the people navigating those shifts alongside you. Journal Prompts: Which relationships in my life feel different lately? What changed? Are there relationships I’m clinging to out of habit, fear, or guilt? What kind of connection am I longing for in this season?

  You are not your job title.  You are not your productivity.  You are not only the caretaker, the leader, the helper, the strong one.   Those may be things you  do —beautifully, even sacrificially—but they are not the  whole story  of who you are.   Your worth is not defined by your output.  Your identity is not limited to your roles.   Coaching begins when we ask: What would it look like to live from that truer self, even just a little more today?

  SHANNON’S CORNER Connect. Nurture. Grow. We did it!  We reached our goal of raising $45,000 for 2025.  Thank you all for your generous giving and support as we continue providing care to ministry workers and their families around the world. Three Women.  Three Journeys.  One Safe Space to Be Seen.   This month, I had the privilege of walking alongside three courageous women in online debriefing sessions.  Though their paths were different, each came to the process carrying layers of heartache, unanswered questions, and the quiet ache of grief.  One woman had just completed her time on the field.  After years of pouring herself out in teaching in a cross-cultural school, she is now re-entering life in the U.S.—familiar yet foreign.  She spoke of feeling untethered, as her identity and confidence as a teacher got shipwrecked and questioning if teaching still her purpose.  In debriefing, s...