Shannon's Corner

  I enjoy the snow. I was genuinely looking forward to the snowstorm predicted to arrive this weekend where I live. There is something about snow that feels both beautiful and grounding—the hush it brings, the way it slows the world, the invitation to pause. Snow transforms the landscape, not by force, but by presence. As I looked out my window, I found myself remembering other snowstorms I’ve lived through—and noticing how closely they mirror the experience of life transitions. Preparing for the Storm When we know a snowstorm is coming, most of us prepare as best we can. We stock up on food, gather supplies, charge backup batteries, and make sure we’re ready in case power goes out or plans change. Some life transitions offer that same kind of advance notice. A planned career change. A move. A retirement. A child leaving home. When we know change is approaching, we can prepare ourselves emotionally as well as practically—tending to what is life-giving, saying meaningful goodbyes, f...

SHANNON’S CORNER Connect. Nurture. Grow. Happy New Year!  The year began on a joyful note—time with my family and even winning the Golden Plunger.  As lighthearted as that moment was, it felt symbolic.  I sense the Lord gently opening and stretching me, inviting me to   take the plunge   with Him into the fresh and new work He is doing. Have you ever realized how much you missed something only after it re-entered your life?  Basketball has always been woven into the fabric of the Eaton family.  Growing up, my four siblings and I played, watched college games, and faithfully filled out March Madness brackets.  After 2006, basketball largely disappeared from my life—until a couple of years ago, when my nephews started playing. This season, basketball has returned in an unexpected and meaningful way.    Through St. Theresa’s basketball, the Lord has provided a local community that has been a deep gift to my sou...

  Before you can hear what is true for you, you have to slow down enough to notice what’s happening inside you. Discernment always begins with connection — to your body, your emotions, your longings, and your fatigue. Your body often knows before your mind does. A tightening in your chest. A heaviness in your shoulders. A sense of relief when you imagine saying no. A quiet excitement when you imagine saying yes. These are not inconveniences. They are information. So many of us override this inner data because we’ve learned to be “reasonable,” “helpful,” or “easygoing.” But discernment asks something different:   Can I be honest about what I am actually experiencing? Try asking yourself: ·         What do I feel when I think about this choice? ·         Where do I sense resistance or openness in my body? ·         Am I moving from fear, obligation, or clarity? Connection cre...

  Most of us were taught how to make decisions. Very few of us were taught how to  discern . Deciding is often fast and external. What makes sense? What’s practical? What will keep others happy? Discernment is slower and deeper. It asks:   What is true for me? What is being invited? What aligns with who I am becoming? Decision-making is about options. Discernment is about alignment. A decision asks,  “What should I do?” Discernment asks,  “Who am I becoming — and what choice is faithful to that?” For those of us in seasons of transition—burnout, grief, change, or quiet longing—or those who are wired to care, serve, and show up for others, discernment can feel unfamiliar. We’re often trained to respond to needs, expectations, and urgency rather than to our own inner knowing. Over time, this pulls us out of ourselves. Discernment is how we learn to listen again. It is   the gentle, courageous practice of coming back home.

  We move through our days quickly. There’s always somewhere to be, something to respond to, someone who needs us. We check boxes, reply to messages, meet expectations, and press on. From the outside, it looks like a full life. But on the inside, many of us carry a quiet ache:  When was the last time I paused long enough to really hear myself?   Reflection is that pause.   It is the intentional choice to step out of reaction mode and into awareness. It’s the quiet work of turning toward your inner world with honesty, curiosity, and compassion — not to judge or fix, but simply to listen. Reflection is how we come home to ourselves.   Without reflection, life becomes something that happens  to  us. Days blur together. We feel busy but unanchored. We say yes out of habit. We react instead of choosing. We keep carrying stories, beliefs, and expectations that may no longer fit the person we are becoming. Reflection interrupts that autopilot.   What ref...

  For many of us, saying  no  doesn’t feel simple. It feels risky. Vulnerable. Uncomfortable. Maybe even unsafe. We worry: Will they be disappointed? Will I lose connection? Will I look selfish or unhelpful? Will this cost me an opportunity?   And underneath those fears is something deeply human: we all want to belong — without abandoning ourselves to do it. Learning how to say no is not about becoming rigid or distant. It’s about honoring your voice, power, and relationships — all at the same time. It’s about choosing  truth over approval  — while staying kind.   Here’s how to begin.   Step 1: Notice the Pause Before the Yes Most of us say yes automatically. The request comes in and our mouth moves faster than our internal check-in. Practice creating a  pause  — even a sentence like: “Let me think about that and get back to you.” “I need to look at my schedule first.” “I want to be thoughtful and/or pray before I commit.” ...