Shannon's Corner

  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...