Sometimes Becoming Means Seeing Old Things in a New Way

My son starts college this semester. He moved into an apartment.

During the process, I noticed something interesting about the way he furnished it.

His grandmother’s old stereo center is now an entertainment piece beneath his television. A cedar chest that once served as a place to store blankets has become the coffee table.

If it were up to me, this furniture would have been tossed in the dumpster as we were cleaning out the house after my in-law’s passing.

Neither piece was thrown away because it belonged to another generation. Neither had to remain frozen in its original purpose.

He simply looked at what was already available and asked, “What could this become now?”

I think many of us need to ask that same question about our work.

Authors may have unpublished chapters, research, interviews, newsletters, old blog posts, presentations, or ideas buried in folders.

Real estate professionals may have years of client questions, neighborhood knowledge, buyer guides, market updates, listing descriptions, checklists, and email conversations.

Entrepreneurs collect presentations, videos, articles, training materials, client insights, and half-developed ideas.

Yet when we enter a new season, our first instinct is often to create something else.

A new book.

A new program.

A new lead magnet.

More content.

But becoming does not always require starting over.

Sometimes it requires seeing what we already have differently.

That is one of the ways artificial intelligence (AI) is changing how I think about creativity and business. AI can help us search through years of material, recognize patterns, connect related ideas, and discover new uses for work we may have forgotten.

An old article might become part of a book. Frequently asked client questions might become a resource guide. Past presentations could become a course. Years of accumulated knowledge might become an organized resource library that serves people in an entirely new way.

AI does not create the value of those things.

The value was already there.

The opportunity is in recognizing it and giving it a new purpose.

My son did not need to buy every piece of furniture for his new home. Some of what he needed was already part of the family story. It simply needed to be carried forward differently.

Perhaps the same is true for us.

As you step into your next chapter, do not only ask, “What should I create next?”

Look around first.

Ask, “What do I already have that could become something more?”

Sometimes the season of becoming begins with repurposing what was already created.

Cheri Dotterer is a Staff Writer for Freestyle Living Magazine and the founder of EstherChicks™, a movement that helps you awaken your inner warrior with Jesus, Joy, and Dopamine. As a NeuroLeadership Coach and identity strategist, she helps women disrupt overwhelm and reclaim purpose. She hosts the EstherChicks Podcast and leads transformational retreats. Connect at cheridotterer.com/contact.

Season of Becoming

Life is filled with seasons. Some bring celebration, while others bring challenges, uncertainty and change. There are also seasons that quietly transform us from the inside out.

This is what it means to enter a season of becoming — a time when we are growing, learning and preparing for what comes next.

What once felt familiar may no longer fit, and the path ahead may not be completely clear. These seasons can feel uncomfortable, but they can also be sacred.

They are often the seasons when God is shaping us, strengthening us, and preparing us for what is next.  We may have to release old habits, fears, disappointments or expectations that no longer serve us. Although change can be difficult, it can also create space for something new.

Becoming is not about having every answer. It is about trusting the process and taking the next step, even when the entire path is not visible.

Sometimes, what feels like a delay is preparation. What looks like an ending may actually be the beginning of a new chapter. Being in a season of change is not easy, it can be hard sometimes.

Growing requires patience. Just as a seed takes time to develop before it breaks through the soil, personal growth often happens quietly before its results become visible.

The lessons we learn during difficult seasons can strengthen our character, deepen our wisdom and help us discover new possibilities.

A season of becoming is also a reminder that we do not have to become someone else. God is calling us to become more fully who He created us to be. Our experiences, even the difficult ones, can become part of our testimony and our preparation to serve others.

As we continue becoming, let us embrace each step with grace. We may not know exactly where the journey will lead, but we can trust the One who does.

It is also a reminder to give ourselves grace. We do not have to compare our journey with someone else’s. Everyone grows at a different pace, and every season has something to teach us.

As we move through this season, let us embrace the changes, trust the process and remain open to new possibilities. We may not know exactly what the future holds, but we can choose to believe that growth is taking place.

So, do not be afraid of the changes taking place. Give yourself permission to grow. Trust the process. Keep moving forward.

You are becoming. And what God is developing in you today may be preparing you for the beautiful purpose He has for tomorrow.

Season of becoming — becoming stronger, wiser, more intentional and more prepared for the life ahead.

Sometimes, the most beautiful chapters begin when we are willing to become who we were meant to be.

There is beauty in the changing of the leaves,
A quiet promise in what the heart believes.
Some seasons ask us gently to let go,
To trust the seeds that God has called to grow.
We may not see the pathway up ahead,
Yet faith will guide each uncertain step we tread.
What feels like endings may be beginnings in disguise,
As strength and wisdom quietly arise.
So give yourself grace as you grow into something new,
For God is still becoming something beautiful through you.

Carmella Banks is a Staff Writer for Freestyle Living Magazine and is a Wellness Advocate for doTERRA Essential Oils.

You can connect with Carmella through her linked-in profile at:

https://www.linkedin.com/in/carmella-banks-1781a370/

Or on her Facebook group at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/822573918497806

A Home Is Never Finished

As an entrepreneur, and neophyte renovation enthusiast, there is a dangerous phrase I catch myself saying out loud all too often: “Once I finish this project,…” Uh-huh. Sure, Jan. Sure.

But after spending the past few years working to restore a century old house, I am trying to accept that there is no such thing as “finished.” There is the previous project, the current project, the next project, and the unknown project that the house is hiding from me behind a wall or floor I haven’t demolished yet. And just like Dr. Frank-n-Furter, I shiver with anticipation. (R.I.P. Tim Curry).

My most recent adventure took place in the ceiling of my dining room, which is the floor of my upstairs home office. The joists had developed a rather dramatic sag of nearly two inches in some places. And two inches may not sound like much until you remember that floors are usually expected to participate in the radical concept of being flat and level. Duh.

But my office wasn't always an office. At some point in Battleaxe Manor’s history the house was divided into an up/down duplex and this room (which I believe was originally a trunk room) became a kitchenette for the upstairs apartment. And somewhere along the way water did what water does best: it leaked. The floor joists were exposed to long term moisture, which attracted termites, which weakened the beams, and allowed gravity to do what gravity does best. Yay for teamwork.

Years later, here I am restoring the house back to its single-family roots. As the kitchenette fell under my sledgehammer, my desk was erected where the fridge once stood. And even though the kitchenette was gone, the floor beneath it was still carrying the scars and consequences of the past. So I learned yet another skill from the seemingly endless curriculum of Old House University: sistering floor joists.

“Sistering” is the act of reinforcing a damaged joist by installing a new one right alongside it. Rather than remove and discard the damaged old growth wood, you pair it with something newer and stronger. And paired together, now they share the load. And yes they're actually called sisters! And I can appreciate any construction technique that sounds less like a technical engineering term and more like two people joining forces because somebody made the mistake of pushing them too far. ’Tis the season of the witch, after all. Very apropos.

But what struck me most was how happy it made me to learn that the old growth joists didn’t need to be discarded. They have carried this house for over a century through changing families, changing seasons, and changing uses. And as a result they themselves had been changed, but they weren't useless simply because time had left its mark. They just needed a little help to carry what comes next.

And maybe we aren't so different. Although we often imagine transformation as becoming someone or something entirely new, perhaps becoming looks a little more like sistering. We don't have to tear out every previous version of ourselves to make room for the next one. We can preserve what remains strong and save what can be saved. We can reinforce instead of replace. We can repurpose instead of remove. And yes, occasionally some things do need to be ripped out with a reciprocating saw and thrown into the fires beneath my cauldron. Good riddance. Growth requires discernment, and anyone who knows me knows that I am very discerning.

Today I sit at a desk in a room where someone once stored their steamer trunks and winter furs. Where later someone else stored their milk and eggs. And now where I store files and receipts. Beneath my feet is the original floor still being held up by century-old timbers, with the help of a few new sisters. But the room didn't go backward. It became something else.

Perhaps that's one of autumn's gifts. It reminds us that change doesn't have to mean abandoning what came before. We can be grateful for what carried us this far, while still making room for what comes next. We can have and appreciate both simultaneously. It’s not witchcraft.

Maybe becoming isn't about arriving at some perfect, permanent version of our homes or ourselves. We keep what matters. We strengthen what needs support. We release what has served its purpose. Then with a little courage, a little gratitude, and a little spell or two, we make room for whatever comes next.

After all, a home is never finished. And neither are we.

Seven new sisters,

century-old timbers.

Jacks and clamps,

screws and glues.

Mallets, malice,

and mead.

Join them well,

make the old stand true.

Strength for the house,

I cast this spell on you.

Kyle Brandon is a Staff Writer for the Freestyle Living Magazine. He is a Realtor in Central Ohio and can be reached through his website:

Kyle Brandon Realtor® (exprealty.com)

Kyle.Brandon@exprealty.com

Start When You Suck

I grew up believing I had no musical talent. Couldn’t hold a tune. Never learned an instrument. I turned two facts into a life sentence.

I didn’t question it. Kids rarely do. A belief forms once, nobody challenges it, and it sits there for decades pretending to be fact instead of a story never tested.

At 53, I told my son, a genuinely talented musician, I’d always wanted to learn guitar. Said it like a pipe dream, knowing I wouldn’t do it. He suggested ukulele instead. Four strings. Easier.

I was embarrassed before I picked it up. Not because anyone was watching. Because I was about to find out, at 53, whether the story I’d told myself since childhood was true. Quieter than public failure, just as sharp.

The first ukulele was too small. I just didn’t know it yet. I only knew practice felt impossible. My son thought I wasn’t putting in the time. I thought I was just bad at this. Neither of us knew the real problem was sitting in my hands, until he saw me struggling in person: wrong instrument. We got a bigger one.

In a season of becoming, at some point, you will take a wrong path without knowing it. Wrong instrument, wrong method, wrong approach. You can’t always tell from the inside. That’s not failure. That’s what it looks like heading somewhere you’ve never been.

And even after you find the right path, it still sucks. Still hard, still slow. The correction doesn’t erase the discomfort. It just means you’re finally struggling at the right thing.

I’d practice a few minutes, feel stupid, quit. Every excuse felt reasonable in the moment. The instrument’s wrong. I’m too old for this. I’ll try again when I’m less busy. Comfort is a good lawyer. It can make almost any retreat sound like wisdom.

One day I told him. He said: “Dad, I can’t help you if you won’t f***ing practice.”

He was right. Alone in my backyard, no one watching, no one judging, I still couldn’t get past feeling stupid. That was never the ukulele. That was me.

“If you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid.” — Epictetus

That’s the part nobody warns you about. Leaving your comfort zone doesn’t feel like courage. It feels like sitting in your own backyard, competent at nothing, with no one to blame. Discomfort isn’t a sign you’re doing it wrong. It’s the entry fee.

So I started practicing. Slowly. Badly. Consistently.

The Courage to Begin

Start before you know the way,
While doubt still has its say.

Let awkward hands and uncertain feet,
Turn small defeats into something sweet.
Be bad at something. Let it show,
That’s often how we learn and grow.
Stay when comfort calls you home,
Keep going through the great unknown.
You don’t need talent to begin,
Just courage to show up again.



Six years later, I can play music-like pieces. I still practice. The pride isn’t about being good. It’s about being the guy who kept showing up while he sucked.

A season of becoming isn’t a straight line toward mastery. It’s a stretch of time you spend voluntarily uncomfortable, because you’ve decided the discomfort is worth more than staying who you already were.

Talent isn’t the prerequisite. Willingness is. You don’t control whether you’re naturally gifted. You control whether you pick it up tomorrow.

You’re allowed to suck today. Not a setback.

That’s tuition.

Growth was never on the other side of comfort. It was inside the discomfort the whole time, waiting for you to stay long enough to notice.

“Well-being is attained little by little, and nevertheless is no little thing itself.” — Zeno of Citium

Growth doesn’t begin when you finally feel ready. It begins when you’re willing to be uncomfortable, imperfect, and maybe even a little embarrassed, but you show up anyway. Becoming happens when you keep going.

L. Mason VanDyke is a Staff Writer for Freestyle Living Magazine. He is not just an author but a captivating storyteller, weaving narratives that transport readers into rich, immersive worlds of imagination. You can connect with L Mason VanDyke through his email at: lmvandyke@yahoo.com

Still Becoming

What’s next?

It’s a question we often ask when one season of life comes to an end.

Maybe it’s the mother whose child has just left for college, and suddenly the house feels a little too quiet. Maybe it’s someone stepping into retirement, looking at an empty calendar and wondering what comes next. Maybe it’s a change in a relationship, a career, a home, or simply the realization that the life we once imagined no longer looks quite the same.

I’ve asked that question myself.

For a long time, I thought becoming meant reaching something: a goal, a milestone, a destination. I thought there would eventually be a point when I could say, “I’ve made it. This is who I am.”

But life has taught me something different.

What if “what’s next?” isn’t a question we need to answer, but an invitation to discover who we are still becoming?

There is something freeing about that thought.

We don’t have to have the whole next chapter figured out. We don’t have to know exactly where the road leads before taking the next step. We can trust that the experiences behind us, the joys, the disappointments, the changes, the challenges, and even the things we never would have chosen have all helped shape who we are today.

And perhaps they are still shaping who we are becoming.

Like the rings of a tree, every season leaves its mark. Some bring growth, some bring struggle, and some leave scars. Yet the story continues.

Becoming doesn’t mean we aren’t grateful for who we are right now. Quite the opposite. We can look at our lives with gratitude and recognize how far we’ve come, while remaining open to what God may still be doing in us.

That is where my faith gives me peace.

Philippians 1:6 reminds me that the One who began a good work in us will continue it. The story isn’t finished.

Neither is ours.

As I look at my own life, I’m learning to be grateful not only for where I’ve been, but also for what is still ahead. There are still things to learn, people to love, dreams to explore, work to do, and moments to savor. There is still purpose. There is still joy. There is still room for God to surprise me.

Maybe that is the gift of every new season. It gives us permission to release what no longer belongs to us and make room for what does. Like the changing seasons around us, we can let go without believing that letting go means losing everything. Sometimes it simply means making space for what comes next.

So, if you find yourself asking, “What’s next?” don’t be afraid of the question.

Let it make you curious.

Let it make you hopeful.

Let it remind you that you are not finished.

Because perhaps one of the most beautiful things we can discover at any age is this: We can be grateful for who we have become and still be excited about who God is shaping us to be.

We are still becoming.

Debbie Marks is a staff writer for Freestyle Living Magazine. She is a global marketing entrepreneur, author, speaker, health & wellness coach, home-based business coach, social media trainer, & organic homesteader. Debbie is a marketing executive for Melaleuca.

Just as Seasons Change, So Can We

There is something beautiful about fall. The leaves change, the air becomes crisp, our wardrobes shift, and we naturally begin preparing for a new season. Change is expected in nature, but when it comes to our own lives, change can feel much less comfortable.

As we reflect on where we have been, we have much to be grateful for. We can celebrate what was while recognizing that life does not remain the same. Every new season invites us to pause, reflect, and consider what may need to change as we step into our next chapter.

Some changes are chosen. We choose to get married, move to a new home, change careers, start a business, or pursue a new dream. Other changes choose us. Job loss, unexpected financial challenges, health circumstances, loss, divorce, or other unforeseen events can suddenly change the direction of our lives.

We cannot control every change that comes into our lives, but we can control how we prepare, how we respond, and whether we remain open to what the next chapter may hold.

Sometimes preparing for a new season means changing our routines, learning a new skill, pursuing an entrepreneurial opportunity, or creating another stream of income. For many people, having additional income is no longer simply about having “extra money.” It can provide breathing room: to reduce debt, build an emergency fund, handle rising costs, enjoy a vacation, pursue a dream, or simply create more choices.

The goal isn't to chase every opportunity. It is to find something meaningful; something that aligns with your gifts, your purpose, and perhaps even sets your soul on fire.

Complacency can be a trap. Being comfortable today does not guarantee that tomorrow will look the same. Sometimes the next chapter requires us to do something different; not because what we were doing was wrong, but because where we are going requires something new.

When unexpected change has entered my life, my faith has been my anchor. Romans 8:28 reminds me that God can work all things together for good. I may not understand the change in the moment, but I can trust God that my story is not over and all will be well.

The Next Chapter

When seasons change and leaves let go,
God gently whispers, “Trust and grow.”
The road ahead may not be clear,
But faith reminds us He is near.

We carry lessons from the past,
Yet know that seasons never last.
Some doors will close, new ones appear,
And God will guide us through our fear.

So welcome change with open hands,
And trust the Author of your plans.
Your story isn't finished yet.
The best may still be waiting ahead.

So as this new season begins, let's be grateful for what was, thankful for what is, and hopeful for what is yet to come.

We may not know what the next chapter holds, but we can choose to meet it prepared, prayerful, resilient, and open to new possibilities.



Sometimes change isn't the end of the story. Sometimes, it's the beginning of the next chapter.

Estella Blake is a staff writer for Freestyle Living magazine. She is an HR Professional with an MBA, SPHR, SHRM-SCP Credentials. As a Pre-Paid Legal Services, Inc. (LegalShield/IDShield) Associate, she offers legal and identity theft plans to individuals, small business owners, and employees while actively expanding her team of associates. Contact Estella for more information at:

 https://www.linkedin.com/in/estellablake or

https://eblake.legalshieldassociate.com