Shannon's Corner

  If you have been following along, we have been talking about sowing seeds in the midst of life transitions and cultivating the soil where those seeds are planted. But there is another part of gardening that can be especially difficult during transition: Waiting for something to grow. You plant the seed. You tend the soil. You water it. And then…nothing seems to happen. At least, nothing you can see. Life transitions can feel much the same way. You may have made the decision, taken the next step, begun exploring new possibilities, or released something that once defined your life. You may be doing all the “right” things, yet you still don't have much evidence that anything is changing. You wonder: Am I making progress? Did I make the right decision? Why don't I feel different yet? When will I know what comes next? But what if there is more happening beneath the surface than you realize? Growth isn't always visible. When a seed is planted, there is a period when nothing app...

  Have you ever walked along a path and noticed how different the ground can be? There may be hard, well-worn paths where nothing seems to grow. There may be rocky places where plants struggle to establish deep roots. There may be areas tangled with thorns and weeds. And then there are places where the soil is rich, ready, and full of life. As I think about the different soils Jesus describes in the Parable of the Sower, I am reminded that transition often reveals the soil we are carrying within us. Transition isn't simply about figuring out what comes next. It is also an invitation to notice what is happening within us as we move through what is changing around us. Sometimes We Find Ourselves on Hard Soil After a difficult season, it is easy for our hearts to become hardened. Maybe you have experienced disappointment after disappointment. Maybe something you hoped would happen didn't. Perhaps you've had to say goodbye to people, places, roles, dreams, or expectations. Over...

  One of the hardest parts of transition is that so much feels uncertain. You may not know where you'll be six months from now. Your role may be changing. Relationships may be shifting. Your routines may have been disrupted. The future can feel like a field covered in fog, making it difficult to know what to do next. In seasons like these, it can be tempting to stop planting altogether. "Why invest in something if everything is changing?" "What's the point if I don't know what the outcome will be?" Yet, transition is not a reason to stop sowing seeds. In fact, it may be one of the most important times to keep planting. Not every seed produces immediate results. Some take weeks, months, or even years before they begin to grow. The conversations you have today, the kindness you extend, the habits you build, the prayers you pray, the relationships you nurture, the boundaries you establish, and the small steps you take toward your goals are all seeds. You ma...

  One of the first things I notice when someone is walking through a significant life transition is that the rhythms that once grounded them have often been disrupted. A move changes familiar routines. A new job alters your schedule. Retirement removes decades of structure. Grief makes everyday tasks feel exhausting. Caring for a loved one leaves little margin for yourself. Even exciting transitions can consume so much of our attention that we slowly stop doing the very things that once brought us life. At first, we tell ourselves it's temporary. "Once things settle down, I'll start walking again." "When this season is over, I'll make time to read." "I'll reconnect with friends after life slows down." But often, life doesn't simply settle down. It continues to change. One season gives way to another, and before we realize it, months—or even years—have passed without intentionally caring for our own hearts. I've come to believe that ...

  SHANNON’S CORNER Connect. Nurture. Grow. Summer has been filled with meaningful conversations, unexpected connections, and moments of rest that have reminded me once again that ministry is often found in both the planned and the unplanned. Over the past few weeks, I have had the privilege of walking alongside a number of individuals through adult debriefs. Hearing their stories and seeing the Lord work in their lives is humbling and rewarding. I also had the joy of facilitating a debrief with a five and three year old Third Culture Kids (TCKs). Children experience transitions deeply, even when they don't always have the words to express them. Creating a safe, engaging space for them to tell their story, identify their emotions, and recognize God's presence in their journey is such meaningful work. I continue to be grateful for opportunities to care for the whole family during seasons of transition. One of the greatest blessings this past month has been ...

  Before I knew it, a car came up beside me on the highway. They sped ahead, but not by much. A few moments later, I found myself gradually catching up to them. Then they accelerated again. Before long, we were caught in that familiar dance of passing one another over and over. Eventually, I adjusted my speed. I settled into a steady pace instead of constantly responding to what the other driver was doing. The drive immediately felt calmer. It made me think about pace cars. In racing, a pace car doesn't compete with the drivers. Its role is to lead them safely, establish an appropriate speed, and help everyone stay together until it's time to move forward again. Transitions often require something similar. When our lives are changing, it's easy to let someone else's pace determine our own. We watch a friend who seems to have already found a new job. Someone else announces their engagement. Another person launches a business, moves across the country, retires, or begins ...

  There are seasons when getting away isn't possible. The responsibilities are too many. The deadlines keep coming. The caregiving continues. The transition you're walking through requires your presence. Your calendar is full, and stepping away for a retreat, vacation, or even an afternoon of rest simply isn't an option right now. While extended times of rest are valuable, renewal doesn't always require hours away. Sometimes it begins with a single minute. A single minute to lift your eyes. A single minute to notice beauty. Beauty has a remarkable way of interrupting the noise within us. It gently reminds us that there is more to this moment than the stress we're carrying. It calls us back to the present and invites our bodies, minds, and spirits to breathe. During times of transition, our attention naturally gravitates toward uncertainty, unanswered questions, and everything that still needs to be figured out. We can become so focused on what is difficult that we u...

  There is something deeply countercultural about intentionally stepping away from work, ministry, responsibilities, and the constant demands of life. Many of us feel guilty when we rest. We worry that things will fall behind, that people will need us, or that taking time away somehow means we aren't committed enough. Yet our bodies, minds, and spirits were never designed to run without pause. Even Jesus regularly withdrew from the crowds. He stepped away from the needs around Him to pray, to rest, and to be with the Father before stepping back into ministry again. Taking time away isn't an escape from your assignment—it is preparation for it. When we intentionally create space for play, rest, and renewal, we give our whole selves permission to breathe. Our  bodies  begin to recover from carrying stress and tension. Our   minds   become quieter, making room for creativity, wisdom, and fresh perspective. Our  spirits  reconnect with God, reminding us th...

  If I asked you to describe who you hope to become in this season of life, what would come to mind? Not your next accomplishment. Not your next job title. Not your next destination. Instead... What image, word, or phrase captures the person you are becoming? Maybe it's a tree with deep roots, standing firm through every season. Perhaps it's a lighthouse, offering steady light to others while remaining anchored in the midst of storms. Maybe the word that comes to mind is  peace . Or  courage . Or  whole . Or  free . As we move through life's transitions, it's easy to become consumed with what we have to do next. We make plans, solve problems, and focus on the practical details of change. Those things matter. But transitions are about more than changing circumstances—they are also shaping us from the inside out. The questions shift from: What should I do? to Who am I becoming? When we have an image, word, or phrase that reflects the person we desire to become, it...

  SHANNON’S CORNER Connect. Nurture. Grow. As I watch the power of a storm, listen to the thunder and downpour of rain, gaze upon the beauty of a sunrise, watch the trees dance in the wind, hear the gentle rain falling on the foliage, listen to the birds sing, see deer leap through the fields, and experience both the coolness and warmth of changing weather, I am reminded of God's beauty all around us. Being surrounded by such beauty these past few weeks has ministered deeply to my spirit, body, mind, and soul.  It has been especially meaningful as I have listened to difficult, and at times traumatizing, stories from global workers serving and living in hard places around the world.  As they courageously share their wounds, burdens, and struggles, I find myself returning to this verse:  "From Mount Zion, the perfection of beauty, God shines forth in glorious radiance"  (Psalm 50:2, NLT).   The beauty of creation reminds me that beauty is not simply...