We live in a world that teaches us to hurry, to fix, to perfect, to arrive. We measure our progress in milestones and outcomes, often forgetting that the most sacred parts of our growth happen quietly, gradually, and beneath the surface. But the deeper we walk on the spiritual path, the more we begin to understand:

 

We were meant to evolve.

 

This truth didn’t always feel natural to me. For a long time, I believed that life was about reaching certain destinations—clarity, healing, certainty, accomplishment. I thought the goal was to finally “get there,” wherever there was.

 

Then, during my life coaching training, I heard a phrase that stopped something inside me:

 

 

It was the first time I had ever heard those words.
And something in me softened.

 

Our instructor, Bruce Schneider—who owned the program—gave us a reading list. The very first book he recommended was his own:

 

 

Even before I opened the pages, the title shook something loose in my heart. It was the first time I considered that maybe I didn’t have to become anything to be worthy. Maybe I wasn’t behind. Maybe the constant pressure to “arrive” was something I could release.

I didn’t know it then, but those teachings would become soul-anchors years later.

 

There came a time when I questioned everything—my path, my marriage, the identity I had built, and the life I thought I was supposed to be living. I felt unmoored, uncertain, and deeply vulnerable. I didn’t remember the details of the book anymore, but I remembered the title.
I remembered the truth.

 

 

Those words helped me breathe again.
They reminded me that I didn’t have to race toward clarity.
I didn’t have to force doors open or cling to ones that were closing.
I didn’t have to finish my inner work in order to be worthy of love, belonging, or purpose.

 

It was the first time I truly understood that:

 

As I stepped through that difficult season, I began noticing something profound:

When we are between identities, between chapters, between who we once were and who we are becoming.

These in-between spaces are not empty.
They are fertile.
They are holy.

They ask us to trust without seeing the full picture, to soften instead of tighten, and to sit with ourselves long enough to hear the whispers beneath the noise.

 

And slowly, I began to understand that life is not about arriving at perfection—it’s about developing intimacy with our own becoming.

 

Your unfinished edges are not evidence that you are broken.
They are evidence that your soul is alive.
That you are learning, exploring, transforming, awakening.

You are allowed to rebuild.
You are allowed to change direction.
You are allowed to pause, breathe, question, rest, rediscover.
You are allowed to be exactly where you are.

 

Life isn’t asking you to be complete.
Life is asking you to be present.

To love the version of yourself standing here today.
To nurture the places still tender.
To listen when your soul whispers change.
To honor the seasons when clarity is still forming in the shadows.

And to trust that the next version of you will reveal herself right on time.

 

 

Here are some soul-centered ways your community can lean into the beauty of being a work-in-progress:

 

Pause several times a day and remind yourself:
“I am allowed to be in process.”

Let go of the belief that you’re supposed to be somewhere else by now.

Every insight, every boundary, every moment of awareness counts.

Growth is a spiral, not a ladder.

Rest is not retreat—it is recalibration.

Not everything that ends is a loss.
Not everything that begins needs to be rushed.

Speak gently. Treat yourself as you would treat a beloved friend.

Name it. Hold it. Don’t wish it away.

Uncertainty means expansion is happening.

You were never meant to be finished—you were meant to unfold.

 

Sit comfortably and place both hands over your heart.
Take one slow, conscious breath in… and a long, releasing breath out.

 

Silently acknowledge anything within you that feels incomplete, unclear, or in transition.
No fixing.
No judging.
Just noticing.

Whisper to yourself:
“I honor what is still unfolding.”

 

Bring your awareness to the quiet, steady presence beneath the emotions—the part of you that is eternal, wise, whole, and untouched by change.

Say inwardly:
“There is a sacred light within me that is always whole.”

 

Imagine a soft glow expanding from your heart, surrounding all the places inside you that feel tender, uncertain, or in process.

Let this light say:
“I am safe to grow at my own pace.”
“My becoming is holy.”

 

Take one final deep breath and offer gratitude for your journey—unfinished, beautiful, and divinely timed.

End with:
“I honor who I am, and who I am becoming.”

 

May you walk gently with yourself this week, knowing that every unfinished part of you is held in love and guided by divine timing.

 

Sue

There’s a soft stirring in the field… something new has been weaving itself through our hearts these past few weeks. We can feel that a threshold is opening — a space of renewal, magic, and luminous possibility.

 

We can’t share the details just yet, but what’s coming is designed to bring more light, spaciousness, and soul-nourishing support into your life… especially as we move toward the end of the year.

 

Stay close. More soon.