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In-Between Seasons


woman at crossroads

There are seasons when life seems to pause. I find myself standing somewhere between who I have been and who God is shaping me to become. I sense Him stirring something deep within my heart, yet I cannot quite name it. The familiar no longer fits, but the future remains unclear.


Those in-between seasons can feel unsettling. My first instinct is often to look outward for answers—to change my circumstances, fix what feels broken, or search for the next opportunity. Yet I have learned that before God changes my direction, He often begins by changing me. That kind of growth requires honest self-examination.


I have discovered that some of the hardest questions to answer are the ones we ask ourselves in God’s presence. They uncover the places where fear has quietly settled, disappointment has rewritten our expectations, or loss has convinced us to stop hoping.


Lately, these are the questions I find myself wrestling with:

  • What part of me needs God’s healing after what I have lost?

  • Where have I become smaller than God intended?

  • What have I stopped believing is possible?

  • What am I carrying that was never meant for me?

  • What would it look like to step into the next season with faith instead of fear?


As I sit with those questions, I am reminded that the answers are not found in trying harder or having everything figured out. They are found in remembering who walks with me. God meets me in the uncertainty long before He reveals the destination.


Isaiah 41:10 reminds me: “So do not fear, for I am with you;do not be dismayed, for I am your God.I will strengthen you and help you;I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”


What comforts me most about this promise is that God’s presence is not dependent on my confidence or clarity. He does not wait until I have the next step mapped out before drawing near. His presence is already the gift. It is the steady ground beneath my feet while everything else feels uncertain.


Yet if I am honest, there have been seasons when the reassurance of God’s presence seemed overshadowed by the grief of losing someone I loved, watching a dream disappear, or facing an ending I never wanted.


In those moments, I sometimes interpreted loss as failure. I believed it meant I was not enough, that I had not tried hard enough, or that somehow I had missed the life God intended for me.


But over time, God has gently taught me a different truth: Not every ending is a reflection of my worth.


Sometimes, with time, I can look back and recognize God’s protection or redirection. A door I begged Him to open may have led me somewhere He never intended me to remain. What felt like rejection may have been mercy, even when it did not land gently.


But not every loss can be explained that way.


Some losses—especially the death of someone we love—should never be reduced to a lesson about closed doors or something better coming along. There are sorrows we may never fully understand on this side of eternity. Faith does not require us to minimize them, explain them away, or pretend they do not still hurt.


God does not cause every painful ending. Sometimes we suffer because we live in a broken world. Sometimes another person’s choices bring consequences we never wanted. Sometimes the enemy intends to wound, discourage, or destroy. But none of those things place us beyond God’s reach.


Romans 8:28 does not promise that everything that happens is good. It promises that God is at work in all things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. What the enemy intends for harm, what others choose, and what unfolds because of the brokenness of this world can all be surrendered to the God who redeems.


“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”Deuteronomy 31:8


This verse does not explain every ending, but it assures me that God is already present in whatever lies ahead. He is with me in the closing of one season, in the uncertainty that follows, and in the beginning I cannot yet see.


Looking back, I can see how often I replayed painful endings, searching for answers God had never asked me to carry. I wondered what I could have said differently, what I should have done, or whether I could have changed the outcome.


Sometimes, with time, I could see that God had protected me. He saw what I could not see. He heard conversations I never heard, knew motives I could never discern, and closed doors that may have led me away from His peace.


What I once called disappointment, God may have called deliverance.


Other times, no clear explanation came. The loss remained a loss. Yet even there, God was faithful. He did not waste my pain, abandon me in it, or allow it to have the final word.

That may be one of the hardest truths to hold in an in-between season: I may not understand what ended, and I may not yet know what is beginning. But God is still working in the space between the two.


FOR FURTHER THOUGHT

If you have ever been removed from a place or relationship you begged God to preserve, you know how painful it can be to accept an ending you never chose. We naturally ask why. We replay conversations, question our decisions, and wonder whether we could have changed the outcome.


Sometimes an ending eventually becomes clearer. We look back and recognize protection, redirection, growth, or mercy that we could not see while we were walking through it.

Other losses remain mysteries.


They do not arrive with tidy explanations, and trusting God does not mean pretending otherwise. We can believe in His goodness while still grieving what happened. We can trust His heart while admitting that ours is broken.


Not every ending is a punishment. Not every loss means we failed. And not every painful circumstance was authored by God.


But every part of our story can be surrendered to Him.


The enemy may intend to use loss to convince us that we are forgotten, abandoned, or without hope. But God can meet us in that very place and begin restoring what grief, disappointment, or fear has damaged within us.


That does not make the loss itself good. It reveals that God is still good within it.


When life feels out of control and my heart begins to question what God is doing, I return to His promises rather than allowing my emotions to become the final authority. I remind myself that my security is not found in circumstances but in the One who holds me through them.


Sometimes I even speak this promise aloud as an act of faith:

“And the Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and will bring me safely to His heavenly kingdom. To Him be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” (2 Timothy 4:18).


PRAYER

Gracious and loving God, You know my uncertainties and fears, and the questions that I wrestle with. The desire to know how everything unfolds can be so consuming, but my mind and heart need relief that only you can give. Thank You for Your presence and peace. I know that I can trust in your guidance and love. You rescue me from every evil attack, and You sustain me and hold me steady no matter what life brings. For those things that I am not meant to have, please remove the desire from my heart and help me find peace in its absence. In Jesus’ name, Amen.


ABOUT MARLA WALDRON

Marla Waldron

Marla Waldron is a devoted daughter of the Heavenly Father, and she embraces her roles as a sister, wife, mother, teacher, and friend with grace and dedication. For 35 years, she has served as a public school educator, mentoring countless beginning teachers and currently working as an Intervention Specialist with Kindergarten students. In her local church and community, Marla faithfully contributes by volunteering at food and clothing banks, participating in fundraising events, and actively engaging in, as well as leading, small group Bible studies for The Dented Fender Ministry. A mother of three grown children, Marla has also taken on the responsibility of caring for her 50-year-old brother with multiple handicaps since their father's passing. Despite facing dark tunnels of grief and self-doubt, Marla has learned to lean on God’s grace, holding tightly to His truths and trusting in His guidance one step at a time. She and her husband live in Ohio, embracing the unpredictable ride of life with faith and resilience.


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