Shannon's Corner

SHANNON’S CORNER Connect. Nurture. Grow. Thailand is the only Southeast Asian country never colonized, known as the “Land of Smiles.”  It is home to more than 35,000 Buddhist temples and shrines, and only about 1% of the Thai population identifies as Christian.   While in Thailand, friends of Kristi’s took us outside of Bangkok to spend the day with them.  They shared about The EveryOne Thailand, a collaborative movement partnering with local and international ministries to reach every person in Thailand with the gospel.  They help lead worship during weeklong outreach gatherings and are encouraged by how God is drawing many to Himself. One of the highlights of our time was serving 22 global workers at the Abide with Me retreat in the mountains outside of Chiang Mai. The retreat created space for teaching, silence, worship, small groups, optional prayer practices, and unhurried time alone with Jesus.  My small gr...

  Life transitions often bring uncertainty, loss, and the quiet work of becoming someone new. The season of Lent offers a meaningful framework for navigating these in-between places. At its heart, Lent is not simply about giving something up. It is a season of intentional reflection, release, and preparation for renewal — the same movement we experience in every life transition. Transitions begin with noticing what is changing. Lent invites honest reflection: What feels out of alignment? What is ending? What needs attention? Clarity begins with compassionately telling the truth about where we are. Lent gives permission to stop pretending everything is fine. It creates space to notice what is unfinished, tender, or ready to shift. Awareness is not failure — it is the doorway to growth. Every transition involves release — old roles, expectations, identities, or ways of coping. One of the most visible practices of Lent is letting go. People release habits, comforts, distractions, or p...

  Anniversaries have a way of arriving quietly and then suddenly filling the room. The anniversary of my mom’s death doesn’t always come with fresh tears or sharp pain. Sometimes it arrives as a soft ache. Other times, as gratitude. And sometimes, as a strange mix of both—love and loss holding hands in ways they never did before. This is one of the lesser-talked-about truths of grief: Grief doesn’t only come from loss. It also comes from   changed connections . When someone we love dies, the relationship doesn’t disappear—it transforms. The way we relate, remember, talk to, and carry that person changes. And that change itself is something we grieve. Many of us were taught—directly or indirectly—that grief has a timeline. That “doing well” means moving on, being strong, or finding closure. But grief doesn’t ask to be solved. It asks to be   tended . Grieving well doesn’t mean the pain goes away. It means we allow grief to have its proper place without letting it harden us...

  Valentine’s Day has a way of shining a bright light on relationships. Hearts appear in store windows, social feeds fill with roses and declarations, and the word   love   becomes unavoidable. For some, this day feels tender and affirming. For others, it can stir grief, loneliness, or a quiet sense of disconnection. In times of life transition, Valentine’s Day often presses a deeper question to the surface:  Who walks with me now? Transitions change our relationships. Some people remain steady companions. Others drift away—not always out of conflict, but because seasons shift. Roles change. Capacity changes. Sometimes   we   change. You may find yourself asking: ·         Who do I reach for now when things feel heavy? ·         Who truly sees me in this season? ·         Who feels safe to walk alongside the version of me that is still becoming? These ar...

  After the storm passes, there is often a sense of relief. The wind has died down. The urgency has eased.  The world feels quieter. And yet—everything is still changed. The snow remains. In some places, it is pristine and brilliant, catching the light and inviting awe. In other places, it is smudged and dirty, marked by footprints, plows, and what the storm stirred up along the way. Both are true. Both belong. This is often what life transitions feel like after the initial upheaval. The decision has been made. The ending has happened. The diagnosis, loss, move, career shift, or identity change is no longer theoretical—it has arrived and moved through. But what remains is not nothing. What remains is a covering. The In-Between Is Not Empty Snow covers the ground completely. It doesn’t ask the earth to perform. It doesn’t demand immediate results. It simply  rests there . Transitions often invite us into a similar season—one that our productivity-driven culture doesn’t alw...