Navigating Change: Finding Wisdom in the Sacred Hallway of Life’s Thresholds

Standing in the In-Between

There are moments in life when the ground shifts beneath us. A chapter closes, yet the next has not yet begun. In these seasons, life often feels like a hallway—one door has closed behind us, while another remains just out of sight.

The hallway is the sacred in-between. It can feel long and uncertain, echoing with endings while whispering of beginnings not yet revealed. And yet, the hallway is not empty. It is divine.

I remember a time when a role I had poured myself into ended suddenly. It shaped my identity and carried my sense of belonging. When it was gone, I thought clarity would arrive quickly, that a new door would open wide. Instead, I found myself in a long hallway—waiting, unsettled, unsure.

At first, I wanted to rush through it. But slowly, I discovered that the hallway was not absence—it was an invitation. A place for stillness and rest . For listening. For receiving what I could not yet name.

At Saintwell, we believe life’s thresholds and hallways are not to be hurried. They are sacred ground: tender spaces that invite us to pause, to listen, and to discover the wisdom quietly forming within us as we navigate change.

Thresholds and Hallways

Thresholds and hallways dance with one another, but they are not the same.

A threshold is the point of crossing over—the doorway where one season ends and another begins. It is a holy instant, often charged with both grief and hope, where we step into the unknown.

A hallway is the passage between thresholds. It is the waiting space, where clarity has not yet arrived and the next threshold feels far away. The hallway stretches us, holds us, and prepares us for the doorway ahead.

Thresholds ask us to step. Hallways ask us to be still. Together, they remind us that change is both a moment and a season: a doorway we cross, and a passage we must walk.

Meaning in the In-Between

Across many sacred traditions, the in-between is where transformation takes root.

The desert. The wilderness. Exile. These are not side stories—they are central to the human journey. In those spaces of uncertainty and waiting, old identities are stripped away and deeper truths emerge.

The hallway, like the wilderness, asks us to:

• Release what we one thought defined us.

• Listen for the still, small voice beneath the noise offering us quiet guidance and nudges.

• Trust that even when unseen, life is still being gently woven in the dark.

The in-between can feel disorienting and lonely, but it is fertile ground. Stillness in the hallway is not passive; it is the soil where transformation grows.

Provision in the Hallway

Hallway seasons are not only spiritual—they are often profoundly practical.

When a job ends, when a business falters, when a relationship shifts, financial questions often rise to the surface. The hallway our programming and relationship with scarcity into sharp focus. Will there be enough? Am I enough? What if I fail? Will the money come? What if provision never comes?

I remember sitting at my kitchen table during one such season, bills spread out before me, fear gnawing at the edges of my faith. And yet, even in that hallway, provision showed up—in meals shared, in unexpected kindness, in resources I had overlooked within myself and in community.

The hallway invited me to ask gentler questions:

• What is enough, right here, right now?

• What is sufficiency in this season, both inwardly and outwardly?

• Where is provision showing up in quiet, surprising ways?

In the hallway, money becomes less about control and more about trust. Scarcity may yell loudly, but sufficiency has its own quiet song.

Gentle Practices for Navigating Change

Thresholds and hallways ask us to be. We cannot rush them. But we can bring practices that invite us to rest, listen, and move with more gentleness.

Presence

When the future feels uncertain, the mind races—longing to leap ahead, or clinging tightly to what has ended. Presence brings us back to the only place we can truly inhabit — the here and now.

Simple practices help us stay anchored — our breath, journaling, nature, connecting to the earth. They remind us that we are not drifting alone, but held in the moment we are given.

The invitation: Each time you step across a threshold—entering a room, opening a door—pause for three breaths. Whisper to yourself: I am here. This is enough.

Trust

Hallways rarely unfold in straight lines. Some days clarity comes, other days the fog returns. Trust is learning to walk without demanding certainty.

Like seasons turning, change has its own rhythm. Our task is not to force the door open, but to trust that when it is time, it will. To not say, we never knock to see if there is an answer, but we knock and wait for the answer.

The invitation: Write a worry on a small piece of paper. Fold it and place it beneath a stone or in a box. With each placement, say softly: I set this down. I trust what is becoming.

Ritual

Rituals transform waiting into reverence. They remind us that the hallway is not wasted time, but a sacred passage.

The sign of the cross before entering a sanctuary. A candle lit at dawn. A whispered prayer of release. A blessing spoken over what is ending. These small acts sanctify the in-between.

The invitation: When you cross over thresholds throughout your day, notice, bless them. Then, in silence, bless the threshold that lies ahead—even if you cannot yet see it.

A Breath Prayer for the Hallway

If you find yourself in the in-between, here is a breath prayer to carry with you:

• Breathe in: I am held in this hallway.

• Breathe out: I trust the threshold ahead.

Repeat three times, resting your hands gently on your heart. Let each breath remind you that you are not alone, that the hallway itself is holy ground.

Walking Together

The hallway can feel long. Thresholds can feel daunting. Both are sacred. The hallway prepares us. The threshold invites us forward. Together, they shape us into who we are becoming.

At Saintwell, we believe these passages are not interruptions to life, but life itself—holy ground where wisdom, resilience, and courage take root.

If you are standing in a hallway or at a threshold, may you walk gently. May you release, listen, and trust. And when the door opens, may you cross with presence and grace.

A gentle invitation: Explore Saintwell’s practices and resources for navigating change. Together, we can honor the hallways, cross thresholds with intention, and step with reverence into the new.