Tag: adapting

Ears to Hear in 2026

In a world quickly being pulled into AI, we can be grounded when we remember the wisdom and clarity that lies within us, a gift from God.

One of the things that has amazed me in 2025 is the overwhelming creep of AI into my life, from vacation planning to finding answers to questions that in previous years would have taken me multiple Google searches and days to find. As much as AI makes things easier, it definitely makes me cringe when I see how fast the world is changing, from digital AI graphics, to photos that ‘never really existed’, to testimonials that we swear are real, but can be attributed to no human ever. How do we discern truth and grow in wisdom?

Tomorrow will be my 2000th day of a streak in the YouVersion Bible app, where before I begin the “rest of my day”, I spend time in God’s word and grow in my relationship with Jesus. I happened to notice my streak the other day, surprised at the proximity of such a large milestone. Focusing on a streak number is not important to me, but the pull to spend time with Jesus is what draws me in each day. Through that time of prayer and study, whether it is just 5 minutes on the craziest of days or days where I am continuously drawn into more, I can feel God’s presence. I can better see and understand God’s blessings and plans for me. I can better hear where God is calling me next. This is a wisdom that AI will never touch.  

In years past, through meditation and reflection, I have focused on a word or phrase to begin a new year, such as Embrace or Joy. As I reflect on this past year and embrace 2026, I am drawn to the words, “Ears to Hear”.  Only I can hear what God is calling me to do or where to go. The phrase “one who has ears to hear, let them hear” can be found numerous times in the Bible from the Old Testament prophecies to parables by Jesus in the New Testament. Crazy enough, AI tells me that this phrase appears around 20-25 times throughout the Bible…so it must be important.  

In only a few months, our move back to the US will be complete, after more than three and a half years living internationally in Germany. I am moving back to my home state, but to a place where I have not lived in over 25 years. The amount of “newness” in 2026 is enough to make my heart rate spike and my stomach churn.

It was not that long ago that we were experiencing these same feelings of uncertainty, with selling our home and belongings and moving overseas to a new country. One visual that helped me immensely when we were moving to Germany was the podcast (and now book) by Emily P. Freeman, about how to walk out of a room. To summarize her teaching on this topic, she describes that when we end one life chapter and start a new one, it is like walking into a new room. We fear when we walk through the door to a new room, we will fall right through the floor. Emily reminds us that there really is a floor–and we will land. And in that new room, there are people who have been waiting for us to enter and will be so happy we have arrived.

It warms my heart to think of all of the people we have met in this new room in Germany, who are such dear friends and will be deeply missed. But I am reminded that when we leave this room and enter the new room in the US, there are also people there that are waiting for us. Some people we know already and love dearly. Some who we are yet to meet. There are new places for me to discover in this new room. New experiences. New opportunities. New ways for me to share my gifts. 

When I invest in a daily relationship with Jesus, I best have “ears to hear” on which way I should go or what I should do. God has amazing plans for me and for each of us. We just have to listen. May we have “ears to hear”. No man-made machine can ever take that ability away from me or you. For that, I am thankful.  

The Quiet of a New Season

Reflecting on the gradual transition to a new and inevitable season of life: empty nesting.

It is definitely quieter around here. Not that she made much noise during her last two years of high school—she often retreated into her “nest” (our nickname for the top floor of our house, where her bedroom is). Still, we knew she’d come down now and then for food or drinks, join us for walks with the dogs, and wander the house in search of her cats. But now? Yes, it’s definitely quieter.

Our youngest has been away at college in the U.S. for over a month now, while her dad and I are back here in Germany—with her cats and our one remaining dog. We are, officially, empty nesters. I can confirm: her nest is empty.

People often ask how things are going in this new stage. I usually say, “It’s quiet and different, but she’s where she’s supposed to be.” Over the past month, I’ve been reflecting on what it means to be an empty nester. It feels less like the dramatic shift of stepping off a plane into a new country, and more like the transition between seasons.

Eventually summer shifts somehow into autumn. You start noticing a few chilly, rainy days, but you’re still wearing your summer clothes—no need to pack them away just yet. Then one day, a tree catches your eye with its changing colors. You’re surprised—how are we heading into another season already? But as the colder days increase and more trees change, it starts to sink in: yes, autumn has arrived.

Raising teenagers is a lot like that. It’s normal for high schoolers to begin pulling away—this slow, natural distancing helps prepare them (and us) for adulthood. When our daughter turned 18, even she wasn’t so sure she was ready for this thing called “adulting.” But this gradual change also gives us, as parents, time to prepare for life without them under our roof every day.

We’ve had children in our home for nearly 25 years. That’s a long season. So what does this next one look like—for me? I don’t know yet. I know it likely involves moving back to the U.S sometime next year, but beyond that, the long-term picture feels a little foggy. That’s hard for someone like me, who loves to plan.

My husband and I do have some exciting plans together—we’ve been preparing for this new chapter for a while. But for me, personally, what are the things I can touch, see, and smell in this new season of life? That’s a good question—and one that will take time, reflection, and prayer to answer.

So, now that I fully realize I’m entering a new season, I’m trying to give myself grace. This transition might take time—a long time—and that’s okay. With each new season comes new opportunities, fresh joys, and unexpected beauty. Sometimes those joys are tucked under a fallen log or hiding in the branches of a tree.

Thank God for the changing seasons.

Embracing New Chapters

A mom reflects on their emptying nest and the courage to write new life chapters, all part of one beautiful life story.

Our youngest of three, with a big grin, waved and boarded the bus in 2013 for her first full day of school as a 1st grader. “Now you can get some work done, Mom!” she exclaimed. Her funny quips always brought a smile, and even at that young age, she could see the challenge of balancing work and family. I was going to miss our special “bagged” lunches in my office, but I was so happy for her excitement to finally be in school all day like her brother and sister.  As a preschooler and kindergartener, she had “worked” alongside me at our local church complete with her own desk and phone in my office.

How quickly those years flew by. Today, as she headed off to school for the last “first” time of her high school career, I’m reminded that I’ve been doing this ‘first day of school’ routine for 18 years. That’s a long time—a third of my life—and it’s worthy of reflection. Luckily, our youngest has aspirations of medical school, our middle child is still in university, and our oldest is starting her master’s degree this fall, so I can still look forward to the obligatory selfies. But it isn’t the same. There’s no in-person hug, no smile, no wave to kick off this special day. Every new beginning must be preceded by the end of a chapter.

As the nest gets emptier, it would be easy to fall into the trap of not knowing what comes next—wondering how I will contribute, how I will be needed. For half of my life, one of my main purposes has been to care for and nurture our family, equipping them to someday fly on their own. Now, it’s easy to feel less needed, reflecting on the past and gazing into a future that looks vastly different. But today, I was reminded that when you remember you are not alone, you can find strength and encouragement.

This morning, I hiked through the forest with a parent group from our international school. I enjoy this group, but on a hot, humid morning, where my “pity party of one” seemed more appealing, I forced myself to join the hike. Though the journey was arduous, my soul felt refreshed, and I found a renewed sense of purpose afterward. I met people who were experiencing similar feelings—grappling with the loss of something or someone and trying to find ‘what’s next’ and where to go.

I may have been the only parent on the hike today whose youngest child is beginning their last year of school, but each person seemed to be at the end or beginning of a new chapter. There were those mourning the loss of a career in a previous country, finding it challenging to work in Germany. A wife mourning the loss of her husband. A woman who had only been in Germany for a week, moving her family from Korea, struggling to find the English words she so desperately wanted to share to connect with others.

We listened. We shared. We walked alongside each other. I was reminded that what I am feeling is normal. It’s normal to feel uneasy at a big life milestone, at the turning of a chapter. A sense of loss. Trepidation. It can be tempting to stay stuck in the same chapter, but if the page does not get turned, the story will never grow.

With each new chapter, the book becomes more complete—becoming an even more beautiful story.

I am beyond grateful for the people who are such a vibrant part of this entire book, especially my husband, children, friends and family. And I know that just because our daughter is graduating next year, that does not mean my role as a mother has ended. As our adult children know, mom is just a text or a call away, no matter what the topic.

But, my book is expanding, continuing on with a new chapter. I am reminded to use the blessing of each new day, embracing my abilities and passions, to continue to write my story. I have gifts that go beyond motherhood, and there’s still so much I can do. I don’t know exactly where this new section is heading, but I do know that if I don’t invest the time and energy to begin this new chapter (and ask God to direct my steps), this book won’t be as beautiful and full as it could be.

“I heard you say that you wanted to learn English better. I’m not a teacher, but I’d be happy to meet for coffee each week to help you practice,” I offered to the woman I was hiking with today, who had just moved to Germany from Korea. Her face lit up. “Yes, yes, I would like that,” she immediately replied. I gave her my contact information and decided to say yes to this new adventure, one of several new changes in my book plot recently.

It’s time soon to turn the page on this new chapter, closing a long one of many years. There are so many new characters to meet, new adventures to explore.

Here we go.

“Now you can get some work done, Mom.” 

Yes, I can. And I will. And I ask God to help and guide me.  

Embracing the Uncomfortable

When everything in life changes, it is tempting to run away. However, I have learned the importance of jumping right in and facing the uncomfortable.

There is no escaping adversity. The only way out is through.

Nathan Andres, Author of “Your REAL Life: Get Authentic, Be Resilient & Make It Count!”

“It really takes a year to feel comfortable here?”, a fellow parent from our daughter’s international school shockingly asked me recently on a group hike through the forest. Many of the women on our hike were new to Germany, moving here from other countries, some as recent as two weeks ago. “I have ten more months to go? Yikes”, she replied.

I responded to her saying that it took me about a year to feel like ‘I got this’ – ‘I can do this…and I can enjoy it’. Like I know how to do things finally. I can go to the post office and do everything in my limited German and leave without needing to hold back tears. I know how to find our favorite foods at the grocery store without referring to Google Translate on my phone. I can navigate to (almost) anywhere in Europe on a train (and survive cancellations and delays…saving that for a future blog). I shared with her that it is different for everyone, but people go through different transitions when they live abroad, from the ‘honeymoon’ period to periods of sadness and frustration. I have been told by school counselors that it is normal. It’s expected. It will get better. When I returned to Germany after being in the US this summer, I was surprised to be happy to be ‘back home’. That is when I felt like I had turned a corner.

In June 2023, we passed our one year anniversary of living in Germany, which started my reflection on our move transition. Thank you Facebook for the reminders of all that was going on a year ago; the stress, the excitement, the confusion, the unknown. How could I forget? I have continued to reflect over these past few months on how did I get to this new, more stable emotional state. I can boil it down to three words:

Embrace the Uncomfortable.

Moving internationally is definitely not for everyone. One has to be ok with change, with having not just a new home to live in, but every aspect of one’s life changing. When everything in life is changing, it can be easy to want to just stay indoors. Isolate. Just get through. But, I did what I knew best to do: find a routine that is healthy both emotionally, physically, and spiritually, surround myself with people, and follow my passions, even if that is not an easy thing to do. I needed to be ok with the uncomfortable and to be vulnerable.

I knew that in order for me to be part of my new community, which is a core value of mine, I needed to speak the language. But learning German is not easy – especially at my age. I have dedicated daily time for the last year (and more) to learning German in some fashion, from Duolingo and other apps, to in-person classes to listening to German music and podcasts. Even after all this investment though, my speaking of German is where I am most vulnerable and uncomfortable. It is where I have had to put myself out there and be ok to not be correct. To not be understood. To fail at finding the right words. However, it is through our failures, where we learn and grow the most.

This summer, I was invited to be the singer for an 8 week Christian course that was hosted in a nearby community. This was only possible because of the relationships that I had built with local Germans, all while leaning in and continuing to sit and function in my discomfort of not being fluent in German, but putting myself out there anyway. These wonderful people new to me valued my gift of singing…over my gift of speaking Deutsch.

As the course began, it was there that I had met a new challenge in German: conversation during a German dinner. I never struggle with small talk in English; I am a marathoner in terms of small talk. However, each week at this course, we shared a meal together before the lecture and music. Having limited German and lots of stories that you want to share with others, that is a very humbling experience.

Each week, I would begin to panic as I sat down to eat at the table with others. Panic from the silence of a German dinner conversation as opposed to a loud, engaging conversation among Americans that was all in English. Panic because all I remembered was “Wo wohnst du?” (where do you live?). Panic because when people started speaking to me in German, I would freeze and not know how to respond. I learned how to be ok with sitting in silence, listening, and humbly sharing “Ich verstehe nicht” (I don’t understand).

But I kept coming back each week. I had made a commitment to learning songs in German and sharing music with them. I made an internal commitment to myself that I would learn only by being there, being part of the conversation, and listening to the lecture. Picking out the words that I did not know. Sharing any words that I did.

My American Chili that I made for the community potluck, our last gathering where I was the singer. I toned down the spice for my German friends and it was all gone in a matter of minutes.

Because I continued to lean in and be ok with discomfort, over the past months, I have been invited to further musical opportunities and groups to share my gift of singing with others. We don’t always understand each other, but music speaks one language. Through music, we all are one.

Mein Deutsch ist immer noch nicht so toll (my German is still not great), but I feel like I have survived the roughest waters in crossing this raging river. I can feel the calmer waters surrounding my feet and see dry land on the other side. I am surrounded by a community of people from so many countries, Germany and around the world, that I am confident that in this second year, I can not just ‘make it’ or ‘survive’, but I can thrive.

Embracing the uncomfortable: My photo was the winner of our town’s marketing contest and the photo that I took was put on the town beer coasters this year. I even was able to meet the mayor during the official presentation. I shared how thankful I was to be part of this new community…in German.

A Little Assistance

Hiking sticks are “a thing” in Germany. People use them on walks through town. In the park. And surely for hiking through the forest. Many seniors walk with them, but it is common to see people of all ages walking with them.

Over the past few months, I repeatedly mentioned to my husband that I really wanted hiking sticks. Embrace Germany, right? My ankles are not the best. I am not known for being accident-free. They must help, right? How could so many Germans be wrong? So he gave me a wonderful pair for Christmas, supporting me in my new unexplored passion for hiking sticks.

I finally was able to take them for a test drive today with him and the dogs in the forest and the “mountains” behind our house. Wow! I cannot believe how two sticks could make my walking so much easier, more stable and secure, and ultimately, more enjoyable.

If you would have suggested a year ago in the US that I should use hiking sticks to enjoy the outdoors more, I would have scoffed and said that I am perfectly fine as I am. I don’t need sticks to help me hike.

But I reflected today while admiring the purple and pink sunset beams casting shadows on the snow-laden pine trees. All of this was made easier to enjoy with these sticks.

I am not growing younger.

It is not going to get easier.

It is up to me to adapt.

I should embrace the things that enable me to embrace the joys of life more.

So here is to discovering hiking sticks!