Resilience in the Middle of Loss and Uncertainty

Resilience used to be a word I spoke about with confidence.

I understood it. I taught it. I teach it.  I encourage others to live it.

But resilience feels very different when life touches you in a deeply personal way.

The death of my sister has challenged me in ways I never expected. Grief has a way of shaking your foundation. It slows you down. It makes you question what truly matters. It changes how you see time, relationships, and purpose.

At the same time, I am standing in another life transition. Retirement. A word that sounds like rest and reward. Yet beneath it sits a quiet question that keeps rising in my heart.

What do I do next?

Loss and transition arriving together have stretched me. One season closed without my permission. Another season closed because I chose it. Both have required resilience.

And I am learning that resilience is not about being strong all the time.

It is about being honest.

There are days when I miss my sister so deeply that it takes my breath away. There are moments when I wonder who I am outside of the structure of my career. I have asked myself questions that have no quick answers.

Who am I now
What is my purpose in this new season
How do I move forward while carrying grief

Resilience, for me, has become the willingness to sit with those questions without running from them.

It has become allowing myself to mourn without guilt.
Allowing myself to rest without fear.
Allowing myself to dream again without pressure.

I have realized that retirement is not an ending. It is an invitation. An invitation to rediscover purpose beyond titles. An invitation to explore passions that were once placed on hold. An invitation to serve in new ways.

And grief has clarified something powerful. Life is precious. Time is not promised. Love must be expressed now.

My sister’s life reminds me that impact is not measured in years but in the way we touch others. That truth is shaping how I think about what comes next.

I do not have every answer. But I do have faith. I have experience. I have wisdom earned through years of living, loving, working, and now grieving.

The Bible often speaks of forty as a season of testing, preparation, and stretching. Forty days of rain before the earth was renewed. Forty years in the wilderness before the promise. Forty days of fasting before ministry began. Forty represents the trial.

But forty one represents what comes after.

Forty one represents the step into something new. The promise fulfilled. The beginning that follows endurance.

In many ways, this season feels like my forty. A season of testing, loss, reflection, and transition. Yet I believe I am standing at day forty one. Not because the grief is gone. Not because every question has been answered. But because I trust that God does not bring us through wilderness without purpose.

Faith reminds me that this is not the end of my story. Experience reminds me that every difficult chapter has produced growth. Wisdom reminds me that God wastes nothing, not even sorrow.

Day forty-one is not loud. It is not dramatic. It is quiet courage. It is the first step forward after heartbreak. It is choosing to believe there is still purpose ahead. It is trusting that the same God who sustained me in the testing will lead me into what is next.

Instead of asking, "What do I do now that I have retired", I am beginning to ask, "Who am I called to be in this season?"

Resilience is not rushing into the next thing to avoid the discomfort of change. It is walking through change with courage. It is trusting that even when life feels uncertain, there is still purpose ahead.

I do not have every detail mapped out. But I am standing in faith. I am standing in gratitude. I am standing in expectation.

Getting up each day even when my heart is heavy.
Choosing gratitude while I heal.
Staying open to new possibilities.
Trusting that my story is not finished.

If you are walking through loss, transition, or uncertainty, know this. You are not weak for feeling unsteady. You are human.

Resilience is not about pretending you are unaffected.
It is about continuing forward, even if the steps are small.

My sister’s death has changed me.
Retirement has stretched me.
But neither has defeated me.

I am still here.
Still growing.
Still becoming.

This is my day forty-one.

And I am choosing to rise.

-srt

Cracking me up on the Harry Potter Train in Scotland

At our favorite place on this planet, Cannon Beach Oregon. 

xoxoxo Wheezer, Love Pokey

Bend, Don’t Break: The Power of Resilience

Life has a way of testing us.

Sometimes it is subtle. A disappointment, a rejection, a plan that does not work out. Other times it hits like a storm. Loss, failure, betrayal, burnout. In those moments, it can feel like everything is falling apart.

But here is the truth. Resilience is not about never falling. It is about rising every single time you do.

Resilience is the quiet strength that whispers, “Try again.”
It is the decision to keep going when quitting would be easier.
It is choosing growth over bitterness.

And the most beautiful part? Resilience is not something you are born with. It is something you build.

Struggle Is Not the Opposite of Strength

We often mistake resilience for toughness. For pretending things do not hurt. But real resilience is not denial. It is facing pain honestly and still choosing to move forward.

The strongest trees are not the ones untouched by wind. They are the ones that have bent in storms and learned how to stand again.

Every setback teaches something.

Failure teaches refinement.
Rejection teaches redirection.
Loss teaches perspective.
Hardship builds endurance.

Your struggles are not signs of weakness. They are shaping tools.

The Bible often speaks of forty as a season of testing and preparation. Forty days of rain before renewal. Forty years in the wilderness before the promise. Forty days of fasting before ministry began. Forty represents the trial.

But there is always a day after forty.

Resilience is living in your forty without losing faith in day forty-one. It is trusting that seasons of stretching are preparing you for something greater. It is believing that endurance always produces growth.

Resilience Is a Skill

Like a muscle, resilience strengthens with use. You build it when you:

Take responsibility instead of making excuses.
Learn instead of blaming.
Rest instead of quitting.
Ask for help instead of isolating.

Resilience does not mean you will not cry.
It does not mean you will not doubt.
It does not mean you will not feel tired.

It means you refuse to stay down.

Resilience is choosing faith over fear. It is choosing perspective over panic. It is choosing progress even when perfection is nowhere in sight.

The most resilient people ask one powerful question:

“What is this teaching me?”

That question turns pain into purpose.
It turns failure into feedback.
It turns obstacles into strategy.

When you stop asking, “Why is this happening to me?”
And start asking, “How can this grow me?”
Everything changes.

Faith reminds us that testing is never wasted. Experience teaches us that every difficult chapter carries a lesson. Wisdom shows us that growth often comes disguised as hardship.

Day forty one is quiet courage. It is the first step forward after discouragement. It is choosing to believe there is still purpose ahead. It is trusting that the same strength that carried you through the storm will carry you into what is next.

You Are More Capable Than You Think

Think about everything you have already survived.

There were moments you thought you would not get through but you did.
There were days you felt broken, but you kept moving.
There were chapters that hurt but you are still here.

That is resilience.

Not perfection.
Not invincibility.
Persistence.

And every time you choose courage over comfort, you reinforce the truth. You are stronger than your circumstances.

Storms do not last forever. But the strength they build does.

So, when life bends you, do not assume you are breaking. You might just be becoming.

Keep going.

This may be your forty. A season of testing, stretching, and refining. But day forty-one is coming. A season of clarity, strength, and renewed purpose.

And that is the gift of resilience.

Have a marvelous Monday,

-srt

Do. Not. Miss. This. A Year of Presence

This year, my word is present.

I chose it because I realized how often I am physically somewhere but not fully there. Not just because of my phone, although that plays a role. It shows up in quieter ways too. It is sitting in a restaurant and finding myself more engaged in listening to someone else’s conversation than the person across from me. It is bringing my computer along because I just need to finish one thing while my son is trying to tell me about his day. It is thinking about what is next instead of settling into what is now.

It is half listening. Half working. Half showing up.

And I do not want to live a half life.

It is such a gift to give someone your undivided attention. To be fully in a moment. To look someone in the eyes and let them feel that you are really there. No rushing. No drifting. Attention is love in action.

Being present is also about recognizing the little gifts all around us.

• The way light comes through the window of my office in the morning.
• The sound of laughter from another room.
• The ordinary stories that feel small but are actually sacred treasures.
• The way Cali talks to me as we walk the perimeter of the farm.
• The way the clouds form images or the colors stretch across the sky at sunset while the chickens make their way to the coop.

So much of life is made up of these quiet moments, and they are easy to overlook when we are distracted or in a hurry. But they are the moments that anchor us. They remind us we are alive. They are the moments we will one day wish we could step back into.

There is a line from a movie that has been echoing in my head lately: “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” It feels almost too simple, but the older I get, the truer it becomes. Life really does move fast. Seasons change. Children grow. Sunsets come and go whether I notice them or not. And I do not want to miss it.

I have started asking myself a different question in the morning. Instead of immediately thinking about everything I need to accomplish, I ask, what does the world have for me today? What beauty is waiting to be noticed? What conversation needs my full attention? What simple moment might become a memory?

This shift feels small, but it is changing me. It is softening me. It is slowing me down in the best way.

I want to fully live this gift of a life I have been given that is already in front of me.

Not someday. Not when things calm down. Not after the work is finished.

Now.

Being present does not mean I will do it perfectly. It means I am aware. It means I am choosing again and again to close the laptop, to look up from the noise, to stay in the conversation, to walk the farm without rushing the steps.

This year I am choosing depth over distraction. Connection over constant motion. Awareness over autopilot.

I do not want to miss what is right in front of me.

I want to be here for it.

Fully.

Present.

Happy Monday Lovelies,

-srt