Shannon's Corner

  Have you ever found yourself driving through a torrential downpour? The rain is coming down so hard that the road ahead seems to disappear. Your windshield is covered in water. Visibility is limited. Everything feels slower, more stressful, and more uncertain. Recently, I found myself in exactly that situation. As the rain pounded against my windshield, I felt the tension rise. I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and focused intently on what I could see. In moments like that, I become incredibly grateful for a few things. First, I'm grateful for windshield wipers. With every swipe, they clear away enough water for me to see what is directly ahead. They don't remove the storm. They don't clear the entire journey. They simply provide enough visibility for the next few moments. Life transitions often work the same way. When we are navigating a career change, a relocation, retirement, grief, burnout recovery, a ministry transition, or a major life adjustment, we oft...

  This past weekend, I traveled to watch a swim meet. It wasn't a long trip. It wasn't a major vacation. It was simply a few days away from home. Yet once again, I found myself surprised by how even a small trip can throw off my normal routine. Maybe you can relate. The things that usually anchor our days—our sleep schedule, exercise habits, meal planning, quiet time, work rhythm, household responsibilities—can suddenly feel out of sync. We return home and wonder why we feel slightly disoriented, tired, or behind before we've even unpacked our bags. For years, I would become frustrated with myself when this happened. I would expect to jump right back into life as if nothing had changed. I would come home and immediately start tackling the to-do list, trying to make up for lost time. What I've learned, and continue to learn, however, is that transitions—even small ones—require adjustment. Travel is a transition. A change in schedule is a transition. A weekend away is a t...

  Spring and early summer bring a familiar rhythm. Gardeners prepare the soil, plant seeds, water faithfully, and wait. They do not expect tomatoes the next day or flowers the next week. They understand that growth takes time. Life transitions often work the same way. When we are in the middle of a major life change—a new career, retirement, an empty nest, a move, a relationship shift, a health challenge, or a season of rediscovering who we are—we can become focused on immediate results. We want clarity now. We want the next chapter to unfold quickly. We want assurance that our efforts are producing something meaningful. Yet transitions are often less about harvesting and more about planting. Every small step you take is a seed. The conversation you finally have. The boundary you establish. The class you enroll in. The resume you update. The morning walk you begin. The counseling appointment you schedule. The journal entry you write. The dream you allow yourself to consider. These ...

"Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good.  His love endures forever." (Psalm 136:1) Twenty years of being on mission with Jesus — and with YOU. His love endures forever. Individuals, families, and churches who have supported, prayed, and encouraged me from the very beginning. His love endures forever. Hours upon hours of learning a new language, never imagining I would one day understand it, let alone speak it. His love endures forever. Being far from family, friends, and familiarity. His love endures forever. Loving and caring for children and teens in Peru. His love endures forever. Building and cultivating amazing friendships. His love endures forever. Eating incredible cuisine. His love endures forever. Walking through a medical crisis scare. His love endures forever. Experiencing an earthquake. His love endures forever. Traveling and having many adventures. His love endures forever. Walking a hard and painful road through burnout — wounded and weary. His love endures for...

  SHANNON’S CORNER Connect. Nurture. Grow. This year marks   20 years of ministry , and I am continually amazed at the faithfulness of God and the incredible people who have walked alongside me through every season.  Thank you for praying, encouraging, giving, and saying “yes” to being part of this journey. Together we have seen lives touched, hearts encouraged, and people strengthened through seasons of transition, growth, and healing. What began as simply saying “yes” to God’s leading has grown into opportunities to serve individuals, families, Third Culture Kids, and ministry leaders around the world.  Thank you for being part of these  20 year s. Over the past month, ministry has been full and meaningful.  We’ve had the privilege of facilitating   four in-person debriefs with our partners Tributary Retreat Center and Safe Place Ministry,  and   two online debriefs   with our partner Refresh & Resound Internati...

  Today in the United States, we pause to remember those who sacrificed their lives for our country and for the freedoms we experience today. Memorial Day is more than a long weekend or the unofficial beginning of summer. It is a sacred reminder that freedom often comes through sacrifice. As we honor those who gave everything, perhaps it is also a meaningful time to reflect on our own lives and journeys through transition. Many life transitions involve loss. Sometimes it is the loss of a role, a relationship, a dream, a season, a home, or even the version of ourselves we once knew. Walking through change can feel disorienting, exhausting, and at times deeply painful. When we are in the middle of transition, it is easy to focus only on what is missing or what had to be left behind. But what if we also paused long enough to reflect on what has been gained? Growth often comes quietly. Healing can happen so gradually that we do not realize how far we have come until we stop and look ba...

  Have you ever traveled and had your toiletries explode or leak in your bag or suitcase? What a mess! You open your suitcase expecting to quickly settle in, only to discover shampoo coating your clothes, lotion smeared across your shoes, or toothpaste somehow finding its way into everything. Suddenly, what was supposed to be simple becomes frustrating, time-consuming, and inconvenient. Travel has a way of shaking things up. Life transitions can feel very similar. Many of us carefully pack our lives with plans, expectations, routines, and goals. We think we know exactly how the journey will unfold. Then suddenly something shifts — a job change, retirement, grief, burnout, a move, a relationship ending, a health challenge, or even an unexpected opportunity. And before we know it, the emotional “contents” of our lives feel scattered everywhere. Transitions often expose things we thought were securely contained: old fears, unresolved pain, disappointments, exhaustion, uncertainty, or ...

  While attending a retreat recently, the speaker shared the image of a chambered nautilus shell as a metaphor for growth. The shell is made up of chambers that spiral outward, each one larger than the last. As the nautilus grows, it does not stay in the same chamber. It moves forward into a new space while still carrying the previous chambers behind it. What stood out to me was the reminder that growth is often circular, not linear. In life transitions, it can feel frustrating when we find ourselves revisiting something we thought we had already learned. Maybe it is a familiar fear, grief, relationship pattern, or question about identity and purpose. We may think, “Why am I back here again? I should be farther along by now.” But perhaps we are not going backward at all. Like the chambers of the nautilus shell, each return may actually be an invitation to go deeper. The circumstances may look similar, but we are not the same person we were before. We carry more wisdom, experience, ...

  I was on a road trip to Arkansas recently, and it felt like construction followed me mile after mile. Some stretches were mild—just enough to slow the pace and make you pay attention. Others brought everything to a halt. Complete stop. Then inch forward. Stop again. Merge. Wait your turn. If you’ve ever driven through construction zones, you know the feeling. The frustration. The sense that you’re falling behind. The temptation to wish it all away so you can just get where you’re going. But somewhere along that drive, a different thought surfaced: What if the construction wasn’t the problem? What if it was the invitation? In life transitions, we often map out where we want to go next. We set timelines. We create expectations. We imagine forward movement that feels steady and productive. And then—construction. It shows up as a job change you didn’t anticipate. A relationship shift. A season of burnout. A door closing. A delay that makes no sense when you’re trying to move forward....