“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”
Proverbs 3:5-6 (KJV)
I’m sitting in my living room on the land my daddy and his daddy cleared decades ago. My calendar for next week is completely empty. Not “light” empty. Not “just a few things” empty. Actually empty.
At 58, you’d think I’d have this figured out by now. You’d think I’d know who I am, what I want, where I’m going. You’d think the question “What do you want to be when you grow up?” would have been settled somewhere around 1985.
Nope.
I’m still asking it. And honestly? Most days I have no idea how to answer.
The Day Everything Changed (And Then Got Worse)
Let me back up to the summer of 2021. The school year from hell had just ended. We’d lost my daddy during the first month of that year. My mother’s health was failing and I was spending more time in doctors’ offices and hospitals than in my classroom. We were living through a worldwide pandemic with rules I didn’t agree with and effects on kids that stressed me out daily.
Then, because apparently the universe thought I needed one more thing, I had a freak accident and missed the last few days of school.
I woke up on the first day of summer break, and the first thing I heard was God asking me how it felt to be retired.
I went into full panic mode. I was 54. Way too young for this. I told Him so.
He just repeated the question.
So I filled out the paperwork and faxed it in within the hour.
And then I waited for Him to tell me what was next. I thought He’d immediately say I was supposed to create a website or work at a bank or win the lottery or marry Prince Charming or SOMETHING.
When I asked what came next, He was silent. Not because He’d abandoned me or stopped talking to me altogether. Looking back now, I understand He saw what was coming and knew I had to make it out the other side before I’d be strong enough to tackle what He had planned.
But in that moment? All I heard was crickets about my next steps.
It took me months to feel human again after the accident. I finally had one day without pain. One random weekday where I woke up and thought, “Hey, I actually feel okay.”
By Friday, I had COVID. And not that “no symptoms” COVID either. I was extremely sick for weeks. I don’t have a lot of memory from that time and when I started recovering, I spent the next few months with my brain seemingly offline.
During all of that, my mom’s health continued to fail. We lost her the next summer in 2022.
My parents were the family’s rock. Losing both of them felt like the final blow. I spent the next year asking God hard questions and going through a complete identity crisis.
Who Am I When Everyone I Was Disappears?
Here’s what I realized during that year: Every version of myself I’d built my identity on was gone.
I wasn’t a teacher anymore. I’d walked out of my marriage almost 15 years ago after it suddenly became abusive. My kids were adults starting their own families. My parents were gone.
I was overweight and miserable and sitting in a quiet house with nothing on my calendar and no idea who I was supposed to be.
When people asked what I did, I had no answer. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself. When I tried to plan my week, I realized I had nothing to plan around.
I’d spent decades being a teacher, a mother, a daughter. I was good at those things. I knew how to show up for them. But who was I when nobody needed me to BE those things anymore?
Wanna hear a secret?
It’s been a few years now, and I’m still trying to figure that out. 🤷🏻♀️
What My Life Actually Looks Like Now
Here’s my reality today: Both of my adult kids have their houses here on the homestead, so I get to see my five grandbabies when I want. My grandma name is Grandma Honey and they’re my honeybees. The family has chickens, goats, and cattle. There are also several cats, two Cane Corsos, a black lab, and a mini weenie dog running around the place.
I love to write. I journal and scrapbook and do embroidery. I like to drive and go on quiet little adventures. HomeGoods is the happiest place on earth. ♥️
I’m in the midst of trying to lose over 100 pounds. I’ve lost 36 so far. I fear the saggy skin I know is coming and might consider plastic surgery for it, which scares me because I’ve never had surgery.
I love coffee and chocolate. I’m an introvert who needs to get out more, but it’s just too peopley out there.
I’m also a hopeless romantic with massive trust issues after my ex-husband’s sudden abuse and the infidelity I found out about after I left.
Some days my house is lovely. Some days it veers into “where the heck did this rat pile come from” territory and I’m praying for Mr. Clean to come whisk me away.
This is my life. It’s good. It’s full.
And I still have no idea who I want to be when I grow up.
The Absurdity Of Rebuilding At 58
You know what’s wild? At 58, I thought I’d have this figured out. I thought by now I’d know myself, know what I want, know what my purpose is.
Instead, I’m rebuilding everything from scratch. Identity, routines, purpose, what I want my days to look like, what matters to me, who I am when nobody’s defining me by my roles.
And here’s the kicker: I have no idea if I’m doing it right.
Some days I wake up energized and clear about what I want to work on. Some days I wake up and think, “What’s the point?” Some days I hear God clearly about specific things in my life. Some days I’m still waiting to hear what He has planned next and wondering if He’s going to give me a hint anytime soon.
But here’s what I know for sure: This season is supposed to be here. It’s not punishment. It’s not God forgetting about me after that retirement conversation. He was with me through every bit of the hard stuff, even when He wasn’t answering my questions about what comes next. He knew I needed to heal before I could handle what He had planned.
This season is sacred, even when it’s hard, even when it’s confusing, even when I feel like I should have it together by now.
Why I’m Writing This Sacred Season
I’m writing because I couldn’t find what I needed when I was in the worst of it. I found plenty of inspiration for women “finding themselves” after 50. I found advice about self-care and boundaries that assumed I had unlimited emotional bandwidth. I found content about thriving in your empty nest that didn’t account for the fact that sometimes your whole life implodes at once and you’re just trying to survive.
What I couldn’t find was someone saying: “Yeah, this is absurd. You’re 58 and you don’t know what you want to be when you grow up and that’s actually normal. Here’s how to rebuild when everything falls apart. Here’s how to wait on God when He’s silent about your next steps but you know He’s still there. Here’s how to figure out who you are when everyone you were disappears.”
So I’m writing what I needed. What I still need, honestly, because I’m figuring this out as I go.
I’m writing for the woman who loves God but isn’t sure what He’s doing with her life right now. For the woman who’s good at being needed but doesn’t know who she is when the needs change. For the woman who’s lost everything that defined her and is standing in the rubble wondering what to build next.
I’m writing for the woman who’s rebuilding. At 45 or 52 or 58 or 69. When she thought she’d have it figured out by now. When people expect her to have it figured out by now. When she expects herself to have it figured out by now.
What You Can Expect From Me
I’m not going to pretend I have this figured out. I’m not going to give you a five-step plan to finding yourself or discovering your purpose or hearing God’s voice clearly every time you ask a question.
What I will do is be honest about what I’m learning, what I’m struggling with, and what’s actually working. I’ll share the practical stuff: how I’m rebuilding routines, how I’m learning to wait on God’s timing, how I’m navigating relationships that have shifted, how I’m making decisions about my time and my body and my future.
I’ll teach from scripture because that’s the foundation for everything. But I won’t leave you with just the verse. We’ll talk about what it means in real life, when your calendar is empty and you don’t know what you want and you’re trying to figure out who you are at an age when you thought you’d already know.
I’ll ask you hard questions because that’s how we grow. And I’ll give you practical steps because inspiration without direction just leaves you feeling worse.
Some of what I write will land exactly when you need it. Some of it won’t apply to you at all. That’s okay. Take what helps. Leave what doesn’t. Come back when you need a reminder that you’re not crazy, you’re not alone, and you’re not doing this wrong just because it’s hard and messy and taking longer than you expected.
Why I Need You Here
Here’s the vulnerable truth: I need you as much as you might need me.
I need to know I’m not the only one asking these questions at 58. I need to know that when I write about the absurdity and the struggle and the rebuilding, it resonates with someone else who’s living it too. I need the accountability of showing up and being honest about when it’s messy.
This isn’t me teaching from some mountaintop of having arrived. This is me inviting you into the process of figuring it out together. You’ll help me as much as I hope I’ll help you.
So thank you for being here. Thank you for opening this. Thank you for trusting me with your time.
I’m honored you’re here. Let’s figure out who we want to be when we grow up together.
Reflect and Review
- What resonated with you most in my story? Where did you see yourself?
- Have you ever had a moment when God clearly spoke and then was silent about the next steps? How did you handle the waiting?
- What versions of yourself have disappeared in recent years (roles, identities, relationships)? How has that affected who you think you are now?
- If someone asked you right now “Who do you want to be when you grow up?” what would you say? (It’s okay if the answer is “I have no idea.”)
- What would it mean for you to believe that this season of rebuilding is sacred and supposed to be here, not something you just have to survive until you get back to “normal”?
Father, thank You for the woman reading this right now. Thank You that You see exactly where she is, what she’s lost, what she’s rebuilding. Thank You that this season isn’t a mistake. It’s sacred. It matters. She matters.
Help her to trust that You have good plans for her, even when You’re quiet about what’s next, even when everything falls apart, even when she has no idea what she’s doing.
Give her courage to ask hard questions. Give her grace for the messy middle. Give her wisdom to rebuild with intention. Remind her that she’s not too old, not too lost, not too broken to start again.
We pray this trusting and believing in You. Amen.
Glossary
Identity Crisis – The disorienting experience of losing the roles, relationships, or purposes that defined who you thought you were. Not a sign of failure, but often a necessary part of growth and rebuilding.
Sacred Season – A period of life that holds spiritual significance and purpose, even when it feels uncertain, painful, or confusing. The times when God is at work beneath the surface, even when you can’t see or feel it clearly.
Rebuilding – The intentional process of reconstructing identity, routines, and purpose after significant loss or change. Not starting from scratch, but building on the foundation of who you’ve been while making space for who you’re becoming.
The Crickets – My term for when God is silent about what’s next, even though He’s still present and speaking about other things. The waiting period between “do this” and “here’s what comes next.” Often longer and harder than we expect.
Homestead – The family land passed down through generations, often with deep history and meaning. In my case, the physical place where I’m doing the internal work of figuring out who I am.
Trust Issues – The lasting impact of betrayal or abuse that makes it hard to trust people, especially in intimate relationships. Not something you just “get over,” but something you learn to navigate while protecting yourself.
The Absurdity – The strangely funny, frustrating reality of rebuilding your entire life at an age when you thought you’d have it figured out. The disconnect between where you expected to be and where you actually are.
