My final semester of college was filled with celebrations, heartfelt goodbyes, and reflection. During my last weeks at school, my fraternity held a candle-pass where seniors shared favorite memories and thanked the people who had shaped their experience. As my brothers went around the circle and reflected on our time together, I realized I had made an impact and built friendships that would last beyond college. Those final weeks gave me a chance to look back on everything that had led me to graduation. Although I felt deeply grateful, I have never been someone who loves endings. I was leaving behind close friends, the organizations I had poured myself into, and a daily life that had come to feel like home. I did not realize it at the time, but the transition would be more complicated than a clean break. I continued visiting my college friends and saw that life on campus went on without me. I was still connected to my people, but I was no longer part of their everyday rhythm. It was time to find a new home. I came to understand that I would have many homes throughout my life, and I felt grateful to have many meaningful places rather than just one.

Over four years, I had built a life at school and an identity I valued. I wondered what would happen when I no longer had the friends, responsibilities, and routines I was used to. In leaving, I gained a deeper appreciation for the community and culture that had shaped me.

During that season of reflection, I had to trust that I had made the right choices and created a college experience I would remember with gratitude rather than regret. I also had to trust my ability to move forward with grace, even when it was difficult. Listening to others share their own transitions reminded me that I was not alone in what I was feeling.

Neutral Zone

This is a period I am still in: a time of deciding who I am becoming and what matters most to me right now. Do I want to continue on the path I have been following, or grow into something more? I have always been driven by passion and people, and I care deeply about cultivating community. College strengthened that part of me, but it also revealed how it can sometimes hinder me; I often care too much. Even so, I hope this process of becoming never ends. I want to be someone committed to growth. Now that I am one year post-graduation, what has mattered most in this middle period is personal growth. In college, I was often focused on classes, organizations, and work, and my own development came second. Now that I have more time to focus on myself, I feel I better understand my identity, my place in the world, and the ways I want to contribute to a healthier community and culture.

Trusting time has been my greatest anchor in this middle period. Growth does not happen overnight, and change requires patience as much as effort. I remind myself that life can shift quickly, but it can also take time to see progress. Welcoming each day as a new opportunity helps me keep moving forward without rushing my own timeline.

New Beginnings

Although my next chapter is still unwritten, I am envisioning what I want for myself and the next period of my life. Overall, I want happiness, spontaneity, and community. Even if I do not yet know exactly what my future will look like, I am learning to welcome each day with openness and trust. There is comfort in knowing that my story is still being written, and that with each new day comes the possibility of unexpected growth, connection, and opportunity. Rather than fearing what I cannot yet see, I want to embrace the unknown with hope, believing that new beginnings do not always arrive all at once, but often reveal themselves in small moments, choices, and chances to move forward.

The post Trusting the In-Between appeared first on United Church Homes.

It’s not the moment after the decision is made.
It’s not the clarity of arrival.

It’s the long, sacred, often uncomfortable space before.

The waiting.
The wondering.
The listening.

I’ve been living in that space.

The search and call process in the life of the church is, in many ways, one of the most vulnerable journeys a person can take. It is not just a job search. It is not simply a professional transition.

It is a discernment of call—of vocation—of where your life might meet the needs of the world in a meaningful way.

And when I say call, I don’t mean a job title or a single role.

Call is the ongoing invitation to live with purpose. It is the quiet (and sometimes not-so-quiet) pull toward what gives life—both to you and to others. It is where your gifts, your passions, your experiences, and the needs around you begin to intersect.

For some, that takes shape in ministry.
For others, it is lived out in caregiving, teaching, creating, organizing, advocating, or simply showing up with presence and compassion in everyday life.

Call is not something reserved for a few.

It is something that unfolds within all of us.

And that kind of transition asks something deeper of you.

It asks for trust.

The Weight of Anticipation

There is an anticipation that builds during a season like this.

Emails that could change everything.
Conversations that carry possibility.

Moments where your heart quietly whispers, “Could this be it?”

And yet, alongside that anticipation is a steady invitation to patience.

Not passive waiting—but active, intentional, grounded patience.

The kind that resists the urge to rush ahead.
The kind that holds excitement and uncertainty in the same breath.

Because the truth is, you can feel ready for what’s next…

…and still not be there yet.

That tension is not a failure.

It is part of the formation.

Listening for a Still-Speaking God

In the United Church of Christ, we often say, “God is still speaking.”

But in seasons of transition, that becomes more than a phrase.

It becomes a practice.

A discipline of paying attention.

Because when so much feels uncertain, the temptation is to grasp for control—to make something happen, to force clarity, to fill the silence with our own voice.

But discernment doesn’t work that way.

Instead, it asks us to slow down enough to listen.

To listen not only in prayer, but in conversation.
In the wisdom of others.
In the quiet nudges of the Spirit that don’t shout—but persist.

And perhaps most importantly, to listen within ourselves—

to that place where calling and truth meet.

There were moments in this journey when I had to ask not, “What do I want?”

but rather,

“Where is God at work—and how am I being invited into it?”

That question changes everything.

Call Is Not a Destination

One of the gifts of this season has been a deeper understanding of something we don’t always name clearly enough:

Call is not static.

It evolves.
It stretches.
It grows with us.

In the framework of Abundant Aging, we often talk about life not as a slow diminishing, but as a continued unfolding—a deepening into meaning, purpose, and connection at every stage of life.

Call works the same way.

What we are called to in one season may look very different in another.

A role may shift.
A path may change.

New opportunities—or even new limitations—may invite us into a different way of living out our purpose.

And yet, the call itself remains.

Not as a fixed destination…

but as a living relationship between who we are and how we are invited to love the world.

Trust as a Way of Living Abundantly

Trust, then, is not just something we rely on in moments of transition.

It is something that sustains abundant living across a lifetime.

Because to live abundantly is not to have everything figured out.

It is to remain open.

Open to growth.
Open to change.
Open to the ongoing invitations of God.

Trust is what allows us to say yes—

not just once,

but again and again as life shifts.

It gives us the courage to release what was,
to embrace what is,
and to step into what might be.

In this way, trust is not simply about getting through a transition.

It is about becoming the kind of person who can live fully within it.

Even Now—Another Threshold

And here is the truth I am holding now:

Even as I have reached the end of this particular search and call process…

Even as I have said yes to a new call…

I am not arriving at an endpoint.

I am standing at another beginning.

Because accepting a call is not the end of transition.

It is the doorway into a new one.

There will be new relationships to build.
New rhythms to learn.
New ways of listening, leading, and growing.

And so the practices that sustained me in the waiting—

patience, attentiveness, trust—

are not behind me.

They are what I will carry forward.

Because this is what a life of faith looks like:

Not a single call, clearly defined once and for all…

but a lifelong conversation between our lives and the voice of God.

A conversation that continues to unfold,

season after season.

A Few Questions to Carry With You

As you reflect on your own seasons of transition—and the ways your life continues to unfold—I invite you to sit with these questions.

Not to answer them quickly,

but to hold them gently:

• Where in your life are you being invited into something new, even now?
• How has your sense of purpose or calling changed over time?
• What practices help you listen for the voice of the Still-Speaking God?
• When have you experienced trust growing slowly, over time?
• What might it look like to embrace this season not as an ending, but as part of your ongoing becoming?

Transitions are rarely easy.

But they are often sacred.

And in the waiting,
in the listening,
in the courage to trust—

not just once, but throughout a lifetime—

we begin to discover something deeper.

That abundant living is not found in staying the same…

but in being willing to keep becoming.

The post At the Edge of the Call: Trusting God in the Waiting—and Beyond appeared first on United Church Homes.

Pastoral or Spiritual Care is an important component for United Church Homes as we work toward our vision of creating a culture of community, wholeness and peace. In our healthcare communities, we have trained chaplains on staff to not only tend to the spiritual well-being of residents, but to staff and extended families. These chaplains have earned Master of Divinity degrees through three-year graduate programs, are ordained clergy, maintain their denomination’s continuing education standards and have completed multiple units of Clinical Pastoral Education. In short, they are highly trained spiritual care professionals called to serve individuals of all faith backgrounds–meeting people where they are and offering compassionate, person-centered support. 

Unfortunately, too many people assume that chaplains working with older adults are there to help residents prepare for their death. And yes, chaplains are available to accompany those who are transitioning toward end of life, but even more important, they are present to meet residents where they are on their spiritual journey. This includes being attentive to what gives the resident meaning and purpose at this point in their lives. How are they experiencing their connectedness to God or their higher power? How are their relationships and connections with others? How is it with their souls, their inner lives, as they reflect on the past, look to the future and experience the current realities as they live in bodies that are aging? 

Chaplains and Medical Care 

There are numerous clinical assessments that need to be documented for multiple compliance agencies in skilled care settings. One of these is a Mood Assessment. This is a short set of questions for newly admitted residents to monitor their feelings to better understand their overall well-being.  

If you were to look over UCH’s data prior to mid-2025, it would appear that everyone who moved into our communities was just fine and dandy.  It was recorded that just about every new resident basically indicated they were “fine”. Senior leadership knew, however, that this is not so. There are all kinds of very natural and conflicting feelings in a period of adjustment when residents move into a new home.  

So, they asked the chaplains to administer this assessment, instead of clinical staff. Suddenly it was observed that new residents were grieving their former homes; they were struggling with establishing new relationships with staff and new neighbors. The chaplains training provided a different lens through which they could really listen to what was going on in the new resident’s life. Because of the change in who collected the information, through one-on-one conversations with the chaplains, the communities are now better able to meet the real needs of new residents because we have a better understanding of what they are feeling. 

It’s Not Just About the Residents 

Recently in a workshop at a large conference, which was talking about end-of-life care, one participant talked about their frustration and concern when one of their clients dies. Their employer tells them to close the file and move to the next person who needs their care. This participant was expressing their personal feelings of grief and burnout. The floor was opened up and the rest of us were invited to share how our organizations support staff in those moments of loss.  

I immediately thought of the many stories of how UCH chaplains provide space for residents and staff to remember the death of those they have come to know and love. Sometimes that is meeting with the staff at the beginning of their next shift and inviting anyone to share a story about the resident and remember how their life had contributed to the community. Sometimes the chaplain is asked to provide a bedside liturgy at the time of death including family and staff. Sometimes they preside at the funeral or memorial service. These are important rituals honoring the life of the one who died. 

At one of our communities, three residents passed away on one day and by the end of the month, there were a total of 12 deaths—many of them long term residents, and several of the deaths were sudden and not expected. Recognizing the extensive grief, the chaplain organized a Grief Fair for staff and residents, creating a speace to acknowledge and process their own feelings of loss. The event reinforced an important message: grief is a shared human experience, and those feelings deserve care and attention. 

Connecting beyond ourselves

When we talk about spiritual care we also consider how the individual is connected to God or their higher power. When we recognize that we are a part of something larger than ourselves, we are able to consider not only our own inner lives but experience the awe and mystery of the transcendent. Thanks to brain imaging technology today, researchers know that just telling someone else about these experiences has the same effect on our brains as getting a hug from a grandparent or someone we love. Chaplains encourage spiritual growth as they provide opportunities to experience the sacred. 

Spiritual care is also attentive to how we connect to others. Chaplains encourage residents to participate in their communities, with families and friends. Our connection to others reminds us that belonging and meaningful relationships are important elements in overall well-being. 

The transitions that come in later life are sometimes unrelenting. It can be helpful to have others who support our journey as we process the many forms of grief we experience. It can be a source of comfort to know that there is someone who will listen and hold our confidence as we make sense of our life experiences.  

Legacy can be another area where chaplains can be helpful. Legacy is concerned with the questions of what we can do now to make a difference in the world. What gifts have been given to me that I can share with others at this time in my life?  

We know that more than 60% of people do not have active engagement with a religious community or belief system when they reach later life. But we also know that 100% of us are spiritual beings. It has been observed that many are more curious about and interested in exploring their spirituality in later life than they ever were before. Tending to our spiritual growth is just one way that we contribute to aging abundantly, and the chaplains who provide spiritual care are important assets as they work to support and promote the health of everyone in their community. 

Spiritual care is ultimately about presence—meeting people in the fullness of their humanity, not only in moments of crisis or transition, but throughout the entire aging journey. At United Church Homes, our chaplains help create environments where residents, families and staff are supported as they navigate life—change, loss, meaning, growth. In doing so, they help us live more fully into our mission of community, wholeness and peace. Their work reminds us that aging is not just something to be managed—but something to be honored, supported and deeply understood as part of the sacred fabric of life. 

Find a United Church Homes senior living community near you!

by: Rev. Beth Long-Higgins – Vice President of Engagement & Director of the Center for Abundant Aging

Stay Connected and Live Life Abundantly

The post More Than End‑of‑Life Care: Why Spiritual Care Matters at Every Stage of Aging appeared first on United Church Homes.

No family expects a loved one to need skilled nursing care. No one expects a serious illness or injury that requires a hospital stay. Yet many people do need post-hospital care in a skilled nursing community to recover safely before returning home.

When a physician or social worker tells you that your loved one needs skilled nursing care, the experience can feel overwhelming. You may feel concerned, unsure, emotional, or even guilty. That reaction is completely understandable. Choosing a skilled nursing community is a big decision, and it helps to know what to expect before taking the next step.

What Is Skilled Nursing Care?

Skilled nursing care is a level of care that is different from assisted living. Skilled nursing provides medical support, rehabilitation, medication management and daily care for people who need more help than they can safely receive at home right away.

For many families, a skilled nursing facility becomes the bridge between a hospital stay and a safe return home. For others, it provides the right level of support for ongoing health needs. Either way, the goal is to help each person stay as healthy, comfortable, and safe as possible.

One of the most reassuring things to know is that skilled nursing is not only about medical care—it’s also about helping people regain confidence. This may include rebuilding strength after surgery, learning to move safely again, adjusting to new limitations, managing medications, or settling into a new routine with the support of caring professionals.

What To Ask

When choosing skilled nursing, it helps to ask thoughtful questions:

• What services are available on site?
• How is the care plan developed, followed, and updated?
• How does the interdisciplinary team communicate with residents and families?
• What types of therapies are offered?
• How are residents supported emotionally and socially?
• What does a normal day look like for someone receiving skilled nursing care?

These questions help you understand the experience, not just the services. A facility may look good on paper, but the way staff communicate and interact with residents often says much more.

What Families Can Expect

The transition into a skilled nursing community after an acute hospital stay can feel unsettling simply because it is unfamiliar. Here are a few things that can reduce uncertainty.

• The hospital transfers the needed parts of the medical record to the skilled nursing facility, so the treatment plan and medications can continue there. The SNF stay begins with assessments and questions. Having a family member or close friend available can be helpful when staff are gathering medical history, previous level of function, mobility needs, daily habits and personal preferences. This information helps the team build an individualized care plan that reflects the resident, not just the condition being treated.
• The family or responsible party is an important part of the care-planning team. In a good skilled nursing setting, communication matters. You should feel informed about your loved one’s progress, therapy schedule, and any changes in condition. Asking questions is encouraged.
• The first few days can feel like a lot, but routines usually become easier to manage. Meeting the interdisciplinary team, learning the layout of the community, and understanding the daily schedule can help everyone feel more at ease.

How To Support A Loved One

Families play an important role in making the transition smoother. A familiar face, regular visits, and personal items can help make an unfamiliar place feel more comfortable. Small comforts matter.

It also helps to stay engaged without feeling like you must do everything yourself. The interdisciplinary team is there to support your loved one, and they are also there to support you. Sharing personal preferences, routines, or concerns can help staff provide more personalized care.

If your loved one is able, encourage active participation in recovery. Attending therapy, taking medications as prescribed, eating nutritious meals, following the care plan, and speaking up about needs or discomfort can all support better outcomes. Recovery is more manageable when everyone is working toward the same goal.

If possible, encourage your loved one to eat meals in the dining room and join appropriate community activities. These opportunities can support socialization, help restore normal routines, and bring a little enjoyment into the day.

Moving Forward

No family expects to need skilled nursing care, and it is normal to feel uncertain when that time comes. But uncertainty does not mean you are unprepared. When you understand what skilled nursing care is, ask thoughtful questions, and stay connected to the care team, the path becomes clearer and more manageable.

At its best, skilled nursing care provides more than medical support. It offers reassurance, structure, and a team working toward one shared goal: helping your loved one heal, adjust, and feel supported every step of the way.

Find a United Church Homes senior living community near you!

by: Debra Durbin- Senior Executive Director of Clinical Operations

Stay Connected and Live Life Abundantly

The post When Skilled Nursing Becomes the Next Step: What Families Need to Know appeared first on United Church Homes.

Those who love us also witness our emotional growth as it unfolds through relationships. We hope that by adulthood we’ve moved beyond toddler tantrums and the emotional whiplash of adolescence, learning instead to respond with greater self-awareness and compassion.

Across the many dimensions of our lives—physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual—growth doesn’t always happen in a smooth, steady line. Sometimes it comes in spurts. Other times it unfolds slowly, almost imperceptibly. There are seasons when we feel as though we are standing on a plateau: familiar, steady, and relatively comfortable. Nothing dramatic seems to be changing, and the ground beneath our feet feels solid.

The challenge comes when we are moved—sometimes abruptly, sometimes reluctantly—from one familiar place to another. These transitions often feel far less comfortable. They may be welcome and planned, such as retirement, a career shift, or the birth of a child. Or they may arrive uninvited: the loss of a loved one, a health diagnosis, a relationship ending, or an unexpected change in work or identity. Moving from what we know into what comes next can leave us feeling unmoored, confused, and even deeply pained.

Toward the Unfamiliar: Cliffs and Fog

In his book What to Make of a Life, Jim Collins offers language that many of us find startlingly accurate. He calls the initiating event of a major transition “the Cliff.” What follows—when we’ve stepped or been pushed into something new but haven’t yet found our footing—he calls “the Fog.” The Fog is a time of disorientation, when we are trying to make sense of who we are now and where we belong. It is often uncomfortable, and it lasts as long as it lasts. There is no rushing our way through it.

Dr. Janis Clark Johnston, a recent guest on The Abundant Aging Podcast and the author of Transforming Retirement, describes a similar experience. After saying goodbye to what was, she writes, we often enter “a maze of emotions and unmet needs.” She calls this a “muddling stage,” marked by loss of energy, vulnerability, and swirling uncertainty as we try on new ways of living and being. Her language offers reassurance: this confusion isn’t a failure. It’s part of the process.

One recent retiree I know refers to this season as his “fallow time.” Just as a field sometimes needs to rest—to lie fallow before it can bear fruit again—so, too, do we. There is wisdom in pausing before rushing into what’s next. And yet, being still can feel deeply stressful, especially after decades shaped by calendars, productivity, and the expectation that we will always be accomplishing, improving, or producing.

Eventually, this foggy, muddling time begins to lift—not because we force it to, but because we rediscover who we are and what gives our lives meaning in this new season. Collins encourages us to take small steps, one at a time, without the pressure to plan too far ahead. Johnston suggests we are, in many ways, rewiring our personalities, learning how to inhabit ourselves differently than before.

Trust Beyond Our Fear

One of the greatest challenges during times of transition is learning to trust ourselves again—especially when familiar routines, roles, and relationships no longer anchor us. When we feel untethered, our inner voices can grow loud with doubt. In those moments, seeking wise and loving support becomes not a weakness, but a spiritual practice.

At age 51, after serving as a local church pastor for 25+ years, I found myself facing an unexpected opportunity to apply for a different position. I hadn’t been searching. I still felt deeply committed to my pastoral role. After imagining what such a change might mean, I dismissed the possibility almost immediately. I wasn’t ready—or so I thought—for such a significant shift in my ministry.

What I didn’t initially trust were the subtle but persistent hints of energy and curiosity that surfaced alongside my fear. Excitement and resistance danced together, and fear gave me plenty of reasons not to consider the change. What I did trust, however, was my spouse, who encouraged me to look more closely. I trusted my spiritual director, who helped me gently untangle my conflicting feelings. Their presence created space for discernment rather than urgency.

Clearing the Fog—An accompanied Process

There is a process within the Quaker tradition known as a Clearness Committee. When someone is wrestling with a decision or transition, they gather a small group of trusted people—not to give advice, but to listen deeply. Committee members ask only clarifying questions. They may reflect back what they hear so that the individual can listen anew to their own truth. Silence is welcomed. The process is unhurried, grounded in trust that clarity emerges when we are truly heard.

While I didn’t formally convene a Clearness Committee, the constellation of trusted people around me—my spouse, my spiritual director, and close colleagues and friends—served a similar role. They helped me clarify what I was feeling and what I might be called to consider. Had I relied solely on my own internal dialogue, I would have stayed safely on the familiar ground. Instead, I eventually stepped off the cliff into a new role. Nearly thirteen years later, I can say with gratitude that the risk opened the door to deep fulfillment and growth that I could not have imagined at the time.

The stress and anxiety of transition can be eased significantly when we move through the fog alongside others we trust. Friends who know us well, family who want us to flourish, spiritual companions, counselors, and pastors can all help hold us steady. So can connecting with others who are also in the fog—or who are a few steps farther along the path. When we can’t yet trust our own instincts, borrowed courage matters.

Fogginess is a normal and faithful response to profound change. But confusion does not have to become our permanent address. With time, wise companionship, and attention to the movement of the Spirit, new clarity emerges. We find fresh ways to carry divine light into the world, contributing to our communities and rediscovering meaning and purpose. Even—and perhaps especially—in times of transition, abundance is still possible.

Questions for Reflection:

Where do I recognize myself right now—in a familiar plateau, standing at the edge of a cliff, or somewhere deep in the fog? What feels hardest to name about this season?

What voices or relationships do I trust that help me listen more deeply to my own truth and to the movement of the Spirit—and where might I need to lean into that support more intentionally?

If this reflection on transition feels familiar, you’re not alone—and you don’t have to navigate it by yourself. NEXT Steps, offered in partnership with The Center for Abundant Aging and Eden Theological Seminary, is a semester‑long, non‑academic program designed for people who are approaching, navigating, or newly beyond their professional lives. Rooted in trust, spiritual reflection, and shared discernment, NEXT Steps offers a supportive cohort experience for those finding their way through the fog beyond titles, roles, and paychecks. Rather than rushing toward answers, participants are invited to reframe this season as one of renewal and possibility, listening for what’s next with the help of trusted companions—much like a clearness committee. Learn more through the links on our website.

The post Transitional Fog and The Small Steps Toward Clarity appeared first on United Church Homes.

One of the most unexpected transitions in my adult life happened in March 2007, the day my husband and I were headed to close on our first home. We had planned that day down to the minute. My husband met me for lunch, and we were floating—dreaming about paint colors, remodeling, family dinners, and the life we imagined in our new home. We held hands as we drove to the bank to sign the papers.

And then, the phone rang.

The closing was canceled. The housing market had crashed. Our lending company was collapsing, likely heading for bankruptcy. Our plans evaporated in an instant.

I remember my husband quietly pulling the car over. Neither of us said much—what could we say? We didn’t buy a house that day. Instead, we swallowed the disappointment and the uncertainty that followed. Our conversations quickly shifted from “When we move in…” to “What do we do now?”

We found another lender through our local bank, and one month later, we prepared to sign again. Only this time, a few days before finalizing the purchase, I learned I was losing my job—the first one I had after college, the one I thought I’d grow into. On top of that, I was pregnant. Everything felt fragile, uncertain, and heartbreaking.

My first instinct was to worry. “What about the house?” I asked.

My husband didn’t hesitate. “What about it? You’ll find another job. Don’t worry,” he said.

Even in that moment, when I didn’t want to trust the process or step into the unknown, God was teaching me something vital: trust is not optional. It is essential. Over the next 30 days, He provided. I was offered another position—one that would become an unexpected blessing for our family. It allowed me to work from home long before remote work became common, and it offered extended maternity leave when our son arrived.

We signed for the house. We moved in. And together, we rebuilt everything room by room.

Nearly 20 years later, in 2028, we will celebrate two decades in that home. Nothing remains untouched—paint, flooring, fixtures, all of it has changed. But our love, our faith, and the story of how God carried us through uncertainty remain unshaken.

Growing older doesn’t make transitions easier. Sometimes, experience only teaches us how deeply uncertainty can cut. But it also teaches us something far more important: worry adds weight. Trust lifts it.

My husband’s calm confidence reminded me of God’s steady promises. I didn’t want to trust Him at the time. I didn’t want to trust the process. But trust was exactly what I needed to practice—trust in the Lord, and trust in the partner God had given me. He cares for me, even when I am anxious and uncertain.

Transitions are inevitable throughout life. Housing changes. Work changes. Family rhythms shift. Our bodies and abilities evolve. But we are not asked to face any of these alone. Scripture is full of reminders:

• “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” — Proverbs 3:5–6
• “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.” — Matthew 6:34
• “Cast your burden on the LORD, and he will sustain you.” — Psalm 55:22

In each season, God invites us to place our fears into His hands. The Bible emphasizes the sovereignty of God and the call to surrender our anxieties to Him—not because life is easy, but because He is faithful.

Today, when my husband and I laugh about how our house has changed—how nothing looks the way it originally did—we also remember a deeper truth: the home we built is anchored in a story of God’s provision, of lessons learned in trusting Him even when we didn’t understand.

Transitions will come. They will surprise us. They will interrupt and overwhelm. But they also shape us, deepen our faith, and teach us trust we didn’t know we needed. And sometimes, they lead us to blessings we never imagined.

The post Signing on Trust appeared first on United Church Homes.

Growing up, I always struggled to feel like I belonged. I remember distinct times in my life when my actions were driven by the desire to be included. I joined after-school groups and sports leagues to join others in my class. I attended youth groups every week to hang out with “the cool kids” who wouldn’t necessarily hang out with me otherwise. To give them credit though, I was an awkward kid with too much energy for my body. I just hadn’t found my people yet, people who could match my energy.

When I surrounded myself with people I could relate to, I felt like I truly belonged. I could be my full, authentic self without needing to dampen certain identities. Over time, that grew into a community that I cherish today.

But even after, when I felt that I had found my confidence and my group, there was still that lingering thought that I wasn’t meant to be there or that those around me didn’t see me as a peer.

Imposter syndrome and loneliness can sometimes be interlinked. Imposter syndrome is “when someone feels undeserving of their achievements and the high esteem in which they are generally held” (Psychology Today). If you cannot trust that you are meant to be where you are, then it is hard to trust those around you. And most people, even those with imposter syndrome, do want to trust those around them. In my case, I struggle to trust my own brain and my own joy.

In college, when I began to develop professionally and take leadership roles in my social clubs, I discovered both a deep sense of belonging and the true definition of imposter syndrome. My senior year, I was president of two student organizations, both of which felt like home. But when I started to experience imposter syndrome and I didn’t believe that I belonged there, it began to isolate me from them. I was so burnt out that I couldn’t communicate how I was feeling in a conducive way and often projected many of my fears outward. What brought me out of it and what keeps me moving forward are the people around me, those who see me and continue to remind me that I do belong.

In trying to find my sense of belonging, I’ve learned that in chasing joy and what makes me feel like me, I find others who may share that joy and relate to my struggles. When I came out as bisexual in high school, I had a handful of friends that I could confide in and who I knew saw me for all my identities. Even having that small group, in a sea of others, made it easier to be public about how I truly felt. Since then, being a part of the queer community is something I cherish deeply and fight hard for, because everyone deserves to feel a deep sense of belonging without fear.

In trying to “right” my imposter syndrome, I’ve learned it’s always an uphill battle. Perfectionism is a cause of imposter syndrome, so I must accept that I can never be “perfect” or exactly what others expect. There may always be a small feeling of imposter syndrome there, and that’s normal. I must remember to ground myself, connect to those around me, share my feelings, and give myself grace.

Throughout my life, I may lose my sense of belonging with certain groups, but I’ll gain it in others. It’s an ever-changing cycle. As I’ve gotten older, I don’t stress as much about being included, but there is always a small part of me that does. It’s all about learning to live with that feeling.

The post Not An Imposter appeared first on United Church Homes.

As we observe Fair Housing Month and reflect on housing equity nationwide, it is an important moment to examine how affordability makes aging in place possible—and why it must remain a priority as our population continues to age.

Why Affordable Housing Matters

Aging in place is ultimately about choice: the ability to remain in one’s home and community as needs evolve. But when housing costs outpace income, that choice quickly disappears.

The reality is that many older adults live on extremely limited, fixed incomes. Across United Church Homes senior housing communities, the average resident lives on less than $17,000 annually, relying almost entirely on Social Security, SSI, or a modest pension income. With virtually no wage earnings or financial flexibility, predictable housing costs are essential.

Affordable senior housing ensures that residents are not forced to choose between rent, healthcare, food, or transportation. Through income‑aligned rents and housing subsidies that cover more than half of the true cost of housing, residents are protected from displacement and financial instability—conditions that would otherwise make aging in place impossible.

Equally important, these communities are intentionally designed to support independence. Accessible living spaces, proximity to services, and on‑site service coordination help residents adapt as mobility or health needs change, without losing their homes.

Aging in Place Is Working

The impact of affordability is clear. Residents remain stably housed for years—not months. The average length of stay across United Church Homes communities exceeds five years, with a significant number of residents remaining for a decade or longer.

This longevity reflects more than housing retention. It reflects stability, trust, and community. When housing remains affordable over time, older adults are able to stay rooted, build relationships, and remain engaged in the places they call home.

Rather than cycling through housing or entering higher‑cost care prematurely, residents continue living independently in environments that evolve with them.

Who Is Aging in Place?

The demographics of senior housing illustrate why affordability and accessibility matter so deeply. The average resident age in United Church Homes communities is nearly 74, with many individuals in their 80s and 90s continuing to live independently.

Most residents live alone.  For them, housing communities provide not only stability but connection—neighbors who notice when someone is missing, shared spaces that reduce isolation, and access to resources that support well‑being.

Residents also bring diverse life experiences, including veterans, individuals with disabilities, immigrants, and those who have experienced housing instability in the past. This diversity underscores the importance of equity‑focused housing solutions that recognize and respond to a wide range of needs.

Fair Housing and Aging with Dignity

Fair Housing Month reminds us that safe, affordable housing is a right—not a privilege. For older adults, fair housing protections play a critical role in ensuring access to income‑aligned rent, reasonable accommodations, and accessible environments.

These protections help ensure that aging does not result in displacement and that older adults can remain housed with dignity, regardless of income, disability, or background.

Beyond Staying Put

Aging in place is not about just staying put. It is about remaining connected and engaged:

• A longtime resident adjusts to mobility changes with simple unit modifications—grab bars, improved lighting, and accessible pathways—allowing her to remain safely in her home without moving to higher‑cost care.
• A retired veteran remains housed on a fixed income, relying on predictable rent and on‑site service coordination to access benefits, transportation, and preventative healthcare, avoiding unnecessary hospital stays.
• A resident who once felt isolated finds connection through community meals, education programs, or wellness activities—transforming an apartment into a place of belonging, not just shelter.
• A widowed resident chooses to remain in her home after the loss of her spouse, supported by a community that understands the emotional as well as practical challenges of aging alone.

These moments illustrate that aging in place is about continuing to live fully—supported by housing that adapts and supports rather than displaces.

A Foundation for Abundant Living

Affordable housing is not merely a financial arrangement; it is the foundation that enables older adults to focus on relationships, health, and purpose. When housing costs are predictable and aligned with income, residents gain stability—and with it, opportunity.

As we reflect on housing equity this Fair Housing Month, may we continue building communities where every older adult has the opportunity to age in place safely, independently, and with abundance.

Find a United Church Homes senior living community near you!

by: Dan Fagan – Vice President of Care and Housing

Stay Connected and Live Life Abundantly

The post More Than a Roof: How Affordable Housing Helps Older Adults Flourish appeared first on United Church Homes.

The aging process can bring new challenges, and with those challenges may come the need for additional support. But these changes don’t have to feel frightening—or like a loss of independence. When approached thoughtfully and proactively, transitions in care can actually improve safety, independence, and overall quality of life.

In this Abundant Focus blog, we’ll explore the most common levels of senior living, who each level is designed for, how care is typically funded, and how families can approach these transitions with confidence and dignity.

Independent Living: Independence with Convenience

Independent Living is often misunderstood as the first step in a declining journey of care—but that isn’t the case. Independent Living is exactly what the name suggests: a lifestyle choice that allows older adults to maintain independence while enjoying the benefits of community and convenience.

Residents typically live in a private apartment or single-level home while enjoying services such as:

• Maintenance-free living

• Lawn care and snow removal

• Meal plans

• Social, educational, and wellness activities

• Transportation options

Many communities are thoughtfully designed with age-friendly features such as elevators, well-lit spaces, and accessibility features that make everyday life easier. Some also offer convenient access to home care services, wellness programs, or outpatient therapies.

Independent Living is typically private pay, though costs vary widely depending on the community. Some offer income-based options, while others operate on an entry-fee model that provides long-term financial stability.

For many older adults, Independent Living offers the opportunity to simplify life, stay socially connected, and enjoy a vibrant community environment.

Learn more about what Independent Living is like at United Church Homes.

Assisted Living: Support with Daily Living

Assisted Living provides the next level of support for individuals who may need help with certain daily activities, often referred to as Activities of Daily Living (ADLs).

These may include:

• Bathing

• Dressing

• Grooming

• Eating

• Medication management

• Occasional mobility assistance

In Assisted Living communities, trained caregivers provide daily support while licensed nurses oversee care. The goal is not to replace independence—but to support it.

Many Assisted Living communities also offer specialized Memory Care neighborhoods for individuals living with Alzheimer’s disease or other forms of dementia. These environments provide additional safety, structured routines, and programs designed to support cognitive engagement and emotional well-being.

Assisted Living communities are licensed and regulated by each state. Some communities participate in Medicaid Waiver programs that support Home and Community-Based Services (HCBS) for qualified residents. In addition, certain long-term care insurance policies may help cover a portion of the cost.

Learn more about what Assisted Living is like at United Church Homes. 

Skilled Nursing & Long-Term Care: Comprehensive Medical Support

Outside of hospitals and inpatient rehabilitation units, Skilled Nursing Facilities (SNFs) provide the highest level of care available in a residential setting. These facilities are licensed by both state and federal agencies and are regularly surveyed and inspected.

Many individuals enter a skilled nursing facility for short-term rehabilitation following a hospital stay. This type of care often includes:

• Physical therapy

• Occupational therapy

• Speech therapy

• Post-surgical care

• Medical monitoring

Short-term skilled care is typically covered by Medicare or Managed Care Organizations for a limited time, often less than 30 days. Co-insurance costs may apply depending on the individual’s coverage.

If someone can no longer return home or transition to a lower level of care, they may move into long-term care, which provides:

• 24-hour nursing care

• Assistance with daily living activities

• Ongoing medical supervision

Long-term care may be funded through private pay, long-term care insurance, or Medicaid for individuals who qualify.

Learn more about what Skilled Nursing is like at United Church Homes. 

How to Determine the Right Level of Care

Pro tip: Taking a tour of a senior living community is the best way to find out information and get your questions answered!

Choosing the right level of care can feel overwhelming. A few key considerations can help guide the process.

Safety First

Consider whether new risks are emerging, such as:

• Falls

• Medication errors

• Wandering

• Difficulty safely using appliances

• Poor nutrition or weight loss

Functional Needs

Is the individual struggling with everyday tasks such as cooking, bathing, managing medications, or maintaining the home?

Social and Emotional Well-Being

Isolation can be just as harmful as physical decline. Community engagement and meaningful connection play an important role in healthy aging.

Professional Evaluation

A primary care provider, nurse assessor, or therapy professional can help evaluate needs and recommend appropriate levels of support.

Planning Ahead Makes Transitions Easier

Care transitions are often most difficult when they happen suddenly during a crisis. Planning ahead allows individuals and families to make thoughtful decisions and maintain a sense of control.

For example, moving into a smaller home or apartment may take time and planning. Preferred communities may have waitlists, and amenities and services can vary widely. Taking time to explore options, tour communities, and ask questions can make the transition much smoother.

Family support also plays an important role. When loved ones remain engaged before, during, and after a move, it helps individuals adjust more comfortably to their new home.

After all, home is where the heart is—and the presence of family helps make any new place feel like home.

Final Thoughts

Transitions in care don’t have to be intimidating. The right level of support can provide greater safety, more independence, and an improved quality of life.

If you or a loved one are beginning to consider a change, start early, ask questions, and explore your options. Thoughtful planning today can make tomorrow’s transitions far more comfortable and empowering.

Find a United Church Homes senior living community near you!

by: Linda Dailey, MBA, LNHA, CEAL – Regional Director of Healthcare Operations

Stay Connected and Live Life Abundantly

The post Transitions in Care: What Level is Right for You? appeared first on United Church Homes.

My husband John and I had just landed at Hopkins airport in Cleveland from a 2 ½ week trip to Florida, and as we blearily got off the plane and stumbled toward baggage, John said, “You know, I feel a bit traumatized.”  I too felt “a bit traumatized.”  The previous 2 ½ weeks very clearly showed us that our bodies had aged, and we could no longer pretend we could do what we used to do. 

Our adventure started out with glamping in Everglades National Park with our daughter Lizzy. We were all very excited about it. Glamping is the idea that one could be living out in nature without all the work and discomfort of having to pitch a tent and sleep on the ground. Some glamping experiences have all the amenities of a resort. Needless to say, our glamping experience was not in the least resort-like. 

We checked in and went to our tent which was pitched over a floor. The whole setup reminded me of girl scout camp complete with the toilets and bath house about 2 football fields away. It was also cold. The lows were in the mid- forties which for south Florida is rare. The only provision given for the cold temperatures was an extra blanket. Therefore, my sleeping attire consisted of leggings, sweatpants, two long sleeved shirts, an REI compressible down jacket and a knit cap under 3 blankets. We were ecstatic when the lows climbed into the 50s.  

And then, of course, we had to walk about two football fields to the bathroom which during the day wasn’t so bad, but at night, it was rough. Getting up and walking 200 yards to relieve oneself at 2am… and 4am…and 6am in the freezing cold wasn’t an exciting adventure, it was just hard. 

After 3 nights of glamping, we moved to a resort on Key Largo which, we all decided was more our speed. The resort was lovely and we spent a lot of time by the pool as the temps had at last climbed into the 70s. And all was well until the snorkeling. Being a strong swimmer, I went into the snorkeling with an air of nonchalance as we were taken by boat to the coral reef, were given life jackets, snorkels and even a noodle, and then told to hop on in. So, into the ocean I went, and my nonchalance immediately disappeared as I worked to swim in 68-degree water to the coral reef a good 100 yards away.   

Huffing and puffing through my snorkel, I made it to the reef, saw a few beautiful fish in and around the reef as I became more exhausted. At this point, fear gripped me as I wondered if I had the strength to make it back to the boat, so I immediately forgot about the wondrous sea life, made a U-turn and started back. I was in the water for about 30 minutes with John not far behind me. Now, I am in terrible shape, but John is very fit, and he, too was exhausted by the experience. 

We went back to the resort and parked ourselves by the pool until it was time to drive back to Orlando to our son Tim’s home. We arrived at Tim’s house greeted by his lovely wife Yoly and our three gorgeous grandchildren ages 14 years, 11 years and 12 months. Many hugs and kisses later, we unpacked and prepared ourselves to babysit Josiah our just turned one-year-old grandson for the next few days while his parents went to work and his older sisters went to school. 

Now, 30 years ago, I cared for an infant and toddler all by myself while John was at work, and I don’t remember it being unmanageable. But now, caring for one infant at ages 65 and 70 took the both of us. I had forgotten how unrelenting caring for small children is.  It just never lets up. Of course, baby Josiah charmed us as he has during all our visits and we continued to fall madly in love with this smiling giggling joyful child, but it took everything we had to care for him. 

By the end of our trip, I was humbled and chagrinned as I admitted to myself that my body is no longer young and I no longer belonged in the “young” group. In nursing school, we learned about human growth and development, and believe it or not, the signs of aging start to become apparent in a person’s 30’s, and little by little, year after year, the heart becomes less efficient, bones become thinner, joints become less flexible, and muscle tissue becomes weaker. And on and on it goes with every part of your body showing the effects of aging without you even noticing until you go glamping and babysit your 12-month-old grandson. And then, you notice. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that I was surprised by this revelation. In my mind, I still considered myself “young” which is wonderful as long as I am clear that my heart, bones, joints, muscles, immune system etc.…are no longer young. My body has some miles on it, and it shows. So, what now? How do I live with my aging body that no longer belongs in the “young” category while still doing what brings me joy? 

I get inspired when I think of my late father-in-law Harlan who was a retired high school band and choral director. Music was his passion so post-retirement he directed church choirs and taught music appreciation courses at the local community college. But, when the effects of aging made walking even short distances difficult and threatened to sideline him from the activities that gave his life joy and meaning, he took action. He purchased an electric wheelchair and outfitted his van with a chair lift. This allowed him to continue directing choirs, teaching classes and quite simply, living life. 

As for me, I am still figuring out how to navigate my life as my body ages, so like Harlan, I can continue doing what I love. There is, however, one thing I know for sure. I’m definitely hanging up my snorkel and from now on seeing the wonders of the sea at an aquarium. 

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