Right where we are, Transitions are hard!
Whether I am watching children head back to school, navigating a new job, adjusting to a new relationship, or stepping into an unfamiliar season, change brings on stress. My body automatically absorbs and reacts to these inputs, experiences, and shifts around me, drawing from decades of experiences, including the early years that I can’t even consciously recall.
For me, that reaction often feels like a constant fight-or-flight response. The everyday rhythm of keeping up with work, family “balance”, household chores, relationship challenges, and an ever-evolving world can push my nervous system into overdrive. When high alert kicks in, I become hyper-sensitive to light, noise, and crowds. Being ignored, having conflict and not knowing something feels more personal. Small tasks—cooking dinner, making a phone call, running an errand—can feel overwhelming. The hardest part is when shame creeps in, tempting me to seek external validation or spiral into self-doubt.
Yet, there is a quiet grace in this high-energy state when I view it with compassion and gratitude. This nervous energy can become a catalyst for growth and going deeper into my body’s experience. When I acknowledge my fear instead of hiding from it, I can redirect that intensity toward meaningful goals or risk deeper vulnerability in my relationships. Sharing my struggles often opens the door for others to drop their masks, too. “Grace strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness” (Paul Tillich). My body is not my enemy; it is a guide showing me where I am at, alerting me to danger and places of longing and healing.
In gratitude for my body that cares for me, I create intentional spaces of rest and loving kindness. I imagine myself standing in a quiet forest surrounded by steady, grounded trees, breathing in the stillness and interconnectedness. I write a poem, do something creative, and listen to some music. I breathe in loving kindness for myself, for others, for creation. I reach out to trusted friends with vulnerability and greater intimacy. Beneath most of my triggers is a deep desire for love, wholeness, and connection. When I offer compassion to the fearful places within myself, I become far more capable of offering grace and love to others. Tara Brach said it best: “Unconditional acceptance of where we are and who we are at any given moment is the heart of healing.”
As this new season unfolds, let us listen gently—to the quiet wisdom within ourselves, to the anxieties of our children as they step into new halls, and to the struggles in each of us. When we tune in with love, we often discover a shared longing to be safe, loved, valued and heard. The words of Pema Chödrön ring true: “The place to cultivate peace is right where you are, in the midst of whatever is arising.”
Grace and Peace from Elissa Noble McCarthy, Aloha United Methodist Church (2270 SW 198th Ave, Beaverton). Feel free to reach out to us: 503-649-9133, www.alohaumc.org
