The Space Between Plans and Purpose

Wisteria window with sunlight streaming in, an open journal, surrounded by positive quotes

Over the last few months, I've felt very disconnected from my old life.

It was as if my guides had stepped back, leaving behind a vast and uncomfortable silence. For someone who has spent decades walking a spiritual path, listening to intuition, following signs, and trusting the quiet nudges of Spirit, the silence felt unfamiliar.

At first, I thought it would pass.

Then life changed.

Six months ago, my 12-year-old grandson came to live with me and his Great Nan. He arrived carrying many challenges, some difficult behaviours, and a need for stability that couldn't be ignored. Overnight, the life I had envisioned for myself shifted in a direction I never expected.

Did I imagine my life unfolding this way?

Absolutely not.

I had my future mapped out.

The van came first.

I had emptied it out ready for the fit-out. The fridge and freezer were installed. The long-range battery was in place. Solar panels were ready to go. The open road stretched out before me, calling my name.

Mum had all her support services organised. The kids were settled and doing well with their partners. For the first time in many years, I felt like I was standing on the edge of a new adventure.

All that remained was to build the rear living space.

Yet today, that space still sits empty.

Life had other plans.

Instead of travelling, I found myself staying exactly where I was.

And if I'm honest, there have been moments when that has been incredibly difficult to accept.

I threw myself into creating. I completed book manuscripts, rewrote two books, created a new journal, expanded into an Etsy store, and continued building the dreams that had been quietly growing in the background.

From the outside, it might even look like a productive and successful season.

Yet beneath all that creating, there was another story unfolding.

I felt trapped.

Not trapped by my grandson. Not trapped by my family.

Trapped by the uncertainty.

Trapped by the feeling that life had pressed pause on a chapter I was ready to begin.

Every day seemed to bring another challenge, another adjustment, another unexpected change. The structure I usually relied upon disappeared. Plans became impossible to make. The future felt blurry.

Again and again, I found myself being guided back to two words that have appeared throughout my life:

Trust.

Surrender.

Words that sound beautiful when printed on a quote card.

Words that feel very different when life asks you to live them.

I found myself asking whether this was another lesson. Another test. Another invitation to grow.

Truthfully, I'm still sitting with that question.

For most of my adult life, guidance has never been something I questioned. Whether through meditation, dreams, synchronicities, or those quiet inner knowing that arrive without explanation, I have always felt connected to something greater than myself.

Even during difficult times, there was usually a sense of direction.

A feeling.

A whisper.

A knowing that I was moving with life rather than against it.

This season felt different.

The silence was unsettling.

I kept asking, "What am I meant to be doing?"

Yet no answer seemed to come.

The harder I searched, the quieter everything became.

Perhaps that was the lesson.

Perhaps guidance doesn't always arrive as a sign, a vision, or a message from Spirit.

Perhaps sometimes guidance arrives disguised as responsibility.

As caring for a child who needs stability.

As being present for an ageing parent.

As choosing to stay when every part of you wants to go.

Maybe the path was never lost.

Maybe it simply changed shape.

The more I reflect on these past months, the more I realise that creating wasn't filling a void at all.

The books.

The journals.

The Etsy store.

The writing.

Perhaps they weren't distractions from my path.

Perhaps they were my path.

Perhaps while I was mourning the journey I thought I was supposed to be taking, another journey had already begun.

One that didn't require kilometres travelled or destinations marked on a map.

One that asked me to build something instead of chase something.

One that invited me to create from where I was, rather than waiting for life to become what I thought it should be.

I still don't know exactly where this season is leading.

The van is still there.

The road is still calling.

And perhaps one day I'll answer.

But for now, life is asking something different of me.

It is asking me to be present.

To show up for the people who need me.

To continue creating.

To trust what I cannot yet see.

And maybe that's what surrender really is.

Not giving up.

Not abandoning our dreams.

But loosening our grip on how and when they unfold.

Perhaps my guides haven't stepped away at all.

Perhaps they are closer than ever.

Perhaps they are simply inviting me to discover that even in the silence, I am still being led.

For now, I remain in the space between plans and purpose.

And while I may not yet understand where this path is taking me, I am beginning to trust that what feels like a pause may actually be part of the journey.

After all, not every chapter of becoming requires movement.

Sometimes, the deepest transformations happen while we stand still.