Growth rarely happens in a straight line.
It is more often a messy, beautiful tapestry; closing old chapters while courageously stepping into the ink of the next. And lately, I have felt like I am standing right in the center of that transition; balancing the professional clarity I have fought hard for with a tender, nostalgic pilgrimage back to the roots that shaped me.
Have you ever stood in that in-between place? Where one season is ending and another is beginning, and you are somehow living in both at once?
That is exactly where I am. And this past week showed me something beautiful about what it means to stand there.
The labor of closing loops
Last week was a masterclass in persistence.
At work, I found myself in a marathon of late-night calls and difficult conversations, laboring to untangle and understand a vision being laid out before me. There were moments of friction. Plenty of instances where it would have been easier to simply walk away.
But I have learned that clarity is rarely a gift handed to you. More often, it is something you have to labor for.
And when I finally closed the loop; when the vision came into focus; I realized something. Tenacity is the bridge between confusion and purpose. You do not always get to skip the hard middle. Sometimes you have to push all the way through the noise to reach the clarity waiting on the other side.
Going back to where it all began
That same persistence followed me home to Pampanga; a place I had not visited in five years.
Walking past the church where I spent my youth, I was struck by the bittersweet weight of time. I saw the empty lot where my best friend’s house once stood, and for a moment, the nostalgia sat heavy on my chest.
But then I looked at my children. Adi and Snowy, standing on the very land where I was born, now with a new house built upon it. And something settled in me.
Because here is what I realized: while the scenery changes, the foundation remains the same.
The house is new. The lot next door is empty. Five years have rewritten so many of the details. But the roots? The roots are still there. And they are the very thing I get to carry forward into everything that comes next.
A note from a stranger that God used
Now let me tell you about the moment that tied my whole weekend together.
After our Sunday service, we did the most ordinary things. We had a family lunch at a Japanese restaurant. Then we stopped by a shoe shop to buy new slippers for Allen.
And as I stood at the counter paying for our purchase, the crew handed me a small note. On it was a Bible verse; Hebrews 12:1-2.
I stood there almost breathless. Because that was one of the very same passages that had just been spoken over us in our Sunday service that morning.
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.” (Hebrews 12:1-2)
What are the odds? A random note, from a stranger, at a shoe shop counter, confirming the exact word God had spoken over my morning.
That is not coincidence. That is a God who is intimate enough, intentional enough, and kind enough to affirm His word to me twice in one day; once from the pulpit, and once from the hand of a shoe shop crew member who had no idea what she was confirming.
He is in the details. He is always in the details.
“To the Other Side”
That confirmation felt especially significant because of what our Senior Pastor, Ps. Ets, had preached that morning.
His message was titled “To the Other Side,” drawn from Matthew 14. And the timing could not have been more meaningful; because Ps. Ets and Ps. Mara, our spiritual parents, are themselves leaving for Madrid this very week.
He reminded us that our lives are full of seasons. One chapter ends, and another begins. And as long as we are still here on this earth, God is not finished with us yet.
“Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side.” (Matthew 14:22)
Ps. Ets said something I have not stopped thinking about: the other side may not always be a brand new place. Sometimes it is a familiar place. Because the other side is simply wherever the will of God is taking you. And just as Jesus left a miracle in the place He was leaving, He is already preparing what waits for us on the other side.
If He did it before, He will do it again.
For a family standing on the edge of our own crossing to the other side; to Madrid, to a new country, to a calling we can only partly see; those words were water to my soul.
When the past and future align
The whole weekend felt like a divine alignment of my pasts and my futures.
At dinner with our spiritual parents, Ps. Ets and Ps. Mara, we talked about our upcoming migration to Spain. And hearing them affirm that our calling in Madrid is a necessary extension of the work we have already been doing; that felt like the final piece clicking into a puzzle I had been slowly assembling for months.
Then on Sunday, we celebrated our church’s anniversary and watched two new pastors get ordained. And I was overwhelmed by the sheer continuity of it all.
Because this was never just about moving to a new country. It is about carrying the spirit of service I first learned as a child; in that little church in Pampanga; all the way into a global mission in Madrid.
The empty lot and the new house. The old church of my youth and the ordination of new pastors. The roots and the wings. It is all one unbroken thread.
We are not shedding our past; we are curating it
Here is what all of this has taught me.
We do not have to leave our history behind in order to build a new future. We are not shedding our past. We are curating it.
The discomfort I felt at work and the sadness I felt at the sight of that vacant lot were not setbacks. They were signs of growth. They were moments of closing loops; clearing away the unnecessary to make space for what is next.
If I had not pushed through the noise at work, I would not have the clarity to move forward. If I had not revisited my roots, I would not fully appreciate the strength I am carrying with me into the unknown of Spain.
Every loop I closed this week made room for the next chapter to begin.
For anyone standing at the edge of a major change
The transition from the familiar to the foreign is never easy. But it becomes deeply meaningful the moment you realize you are not traveling alone.
Your history is the compass you pack in your suitcase. You do not leave it behind. You carry it with you; every root, every lesson, every place that shaped you.
I am finding that even on the rainy days, when the weight of the future feels heavy, the answer is simply to keep showing up. Whether that is by hitting the gym to keep my body strong, or by nurturing the relationships that keep my heart anchored, or by fixing my eyes on Jesus and running the race marked out for me.
If you are standing at the edge of your own major change, remember this: your story is an unbroken thread. You are exactly where you need to be; building a bridge between where you have been and where you are going.
So take a slow, deep breath. Trust the pace of your own life. And keep your eyes fixed on the One who is already waiting for you on the other side.
You are exactly the person you need to be for the journey ahead. 🌿
“Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus.” (Hebrews 12:1-2)
Are you closing a loop or crossing to your own “other side” right now? I would love to hear where you are in the comments. 🤍
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