The Season I’m In: Holding On, Letting Go, and Trusting God in the Middle

Lately, I’ve been learning what it means to hold on and let go at the same time.

Motherhood has a way of bringing you into seasons you never fully prepare for—no matter how many years you’ve already walked it. Right now, my days are filled with transition, quiet prayers, and a deeper dependence on God than ever before.

I’m homeschooling my senior this year. The lasts are everywhere. Last lessons. Last routines. Last moments that once felt endless but now feel fleeting. I find myself slowing down, soaking it in, and realizing how tender this season truly is. Time feels louder now. More intentional. Every day matters in a way it didn’t before.

At the same time, my 19-year-old is enlisted in the military and currently walking through bootcamp. If motherhood teaches strength, this season teaches surrender. There’s a different kind of trust required when your child is far from home—one that rests entirely in God’s hands. I’m learning to pray differently. To release control. To believe that God is present even when I can’t be.

Alongside these motherhood transitions, I’m also starting over in my career.

Again.

Starting over doesn’t always look brave from the outside. Sometimes it feels quiet. Humbling. Like learning how to take the next right step without a full map in front of you. But I’m discovering that starting over doesn’t mean you failed—it often means you grew. And I’m choosing to believe that it’s never too late to build something that aligns with who you’ve become, not who you used to be.

This season has also invited me to care for myself differently.

As a 45-year-old mom, I’m paying attention to what actually makes me feel good—inside and out. I’m sharing beauty and fashion finds that feel comfortable, confidence-boosting, and realistic for real life. I’m leaning into health and wellness rhythms that support my body instead of pushing it. Nothing extreme. Nothing trendy. Just intentional choices that help me show up grounded and present.

This chapter of life isn’t loud or flashy. It doesn’t need to be.

It’s rooted.
It’s honest.
It’s stretching me in ways I didn’t expect—but shaping me in ways I’m grateful for.

If you’re in a season of transition too—whether you’re releasing one chapter while stepping into another, rebuilding something you thought would look different, or simply learning how to trust God in the waiting—know this:

You are not behind.
You are not failing.
And you are not alone.

God is steady in the in-between.
And sometimes, the middle is where the deepest roots grow.

Welcome to this season with me.