I am currently in transition at the cusp of the second half of life. My primary focus for the past twenty years has been a 24/7 adventure of homemaking where my two children could grow, thrive, and develop into functioning adults. As my son and daughter become more autonomous, I celebrate, but simultaenously feel confused.
This time of launching is messy, marked with insecurity and periods of grief, relief, and fatigue. What do I want? Who am I? Where do I belong? What is important to me? What am I supposed to be doing? As questions spin in my head, I realize that I rely on the roles of motherhood to provide my identity. I feel anxious to be doing something, but I do not have clarity. Plus, I am tired. Where did my creativity go?
I believe a big source of this anxiety comes from a dominant message in our culture that our value comes from being productive. For example, I have heard from many women about how they feel guilty in this undefined transitional space. Some of them have told me about the messages they receive from Bible studies about how they have to serve all the time in order to be “good.” Sure, service is meaningful and honors God. However, much of the Bible also implores us to be still, wait upon the Lord, and meditate on the word.
As I talk to women going through times of transition–loss of a marriage, health issues, leaving the workplace, entering the workplace, empty nesting–I hear the same confusion.
“I can’t keep pushing myself in the same way; my body won’t let me.”
“I don’t know where I am going.”
“I don’t recognize myself in this place.”
One friend told me how she risked sharing with another woman in her church group how she found herself in this disorienting “holding pattern.” She immediately felt like something was wrong with her when the woman just stared at her blankly.
I want to be brave and lean in to this space. This space in between is a necessary time-out, a time of reflection and reorientation. I have an impulse to get busy and keep moving as a way to stave off the anxiety of disorientation. But, I have learned the hard truth: moving without discernment is movement without meaning.
Moving without discernment is movement without meaning.
Have you ever gone hiking, and the path ended to reveal a space with several trail-heads? In this “trail-head space,” you have to pause, learn about the possibilities of each potential path, choose a path, and then move again with a sense of direction.
I am settling down internally as I imagine pulling up a rock and sitting in the middle of this trail-head marked space. As I sit, I ponder the path I just finished. I give myself time to reflect on what I learned from this leg of the journey. I allow time to grieve the parts I will leave behind.
What is important that I need to bring forward?
What parts of the journey were life giving?
What sucked the life out of me?
How can I be kinder to myself as I move forward?
Can I honor God as I sit still and wait, seeking guidance and a sense of direction?
Moving without discernment is movement without meaning.
I recently shared this metaphor with a dear friend and it gave us both comfort. We had so much fun settling into this “trail-head” space together. She pulled her rock up to mine, and we sat together enjoying good company in the midst of the disorientation. I discovered the encouragement of sharing the journey with a few trusted friends, sojourners who will simply pull up a rock and wait together. I am grateful for friends who love me right in the middle of what feels messy. What a gift! It feels easier to be brave. No one is telling me to run as fast as I can to the next busy task.
We all experience this “space in between” several times in our lives. May this reflection bring you peace if you find yourself in a similar place.
Transition feels messy. You matter. You are not alone.
Here are a few of my favorite books that have held my hand through this experience:
Gratitude 