The Transition I Never Would Have Chosen

Navigating Transition | Part 3

Some transitions begin with an invitation.

We sense something changing. A new possibility emerges. Maybe we're ready for a new challenge, a different career, a move, or a new season of life. We may still feel uncertain, but at some level, we've chosen the change.

Other transitions feel very different. They choose us.

I've sometimes called these "rug-pulled-out" transitions. Something changes that we didn't initiate, didn't expect, and certainly didn't ask for.

A job disappears.

An organization changes direction.

A relationship ends.

A diagnosis alters the future we imagined.

Sometimes the circumstances aren't even unexpected. Retirement arrives. The kids leave home. Parents grow older and need more support. We knew those seasons were coming. We just weren't ready for them. And suddenly we find ourselves asking a very different question. What do I do with a transition I didn't choose?

When Life Changes Before We're Ready

My wife and I have experienced this in different ways over the years.

At one point, supporting aging parents meant making a geographical move so we could tap into greater family support and resources. It was the right decision, but that didn't necessarily make the transition easy.

Even today, we find ourselves holding another question: Now that we've built a life we love in Idaho, at what point do we need to give serious attention to moving closer to our children and grandchildren in another state?

Nothing is forcing that decision today. But we know another season may eventually ask something of us that our current season doesn't.

That's one of the realities of transition. Sometimes we're ready for change before our circumstances change. Other times, our circumstances change before we're ready.

When the Rug Really Did Feel Pulled Out

One of the most significant transitions of my life came after my family and I had spent nearly twenty years living and serving overseas.

This wasn't simply a job. It was our life. Our relationships were there. Our work was there. Our sense of calling was deeply connected to the people and places where we had invested so much of ourselves.

Then our organizational culture began to change. New leadership brought a different direction, and over time I began to recognize a growing disconnect between the organization's direction and some of our own values and approaches to work and ministry.

I didn't want that tension. I certainly hadn't planned for it. And for a while, I felt trapped by it.

Leaving would mean much more than changing jobs. It would redirect the course of our lives after two decades overseas.

Where would we live? What would I do? What would this mean for our family? What would happen to relationships that had been woven into our lives for years? There was no easy answer.

In many ways, the circumstances felt forced upon us. But eventually I began to recognize an important distinction: I hadn't chosen the circumstances, but I still had choices about how I would respond to them.

Finding Agency in a Transition You Didn't Choose

That's one of the things I've learned about unwanted transition. When the rug gets pulled out, it's easy to focus entirely on what has been taken away.

Our sense of control. Our plans. Our expectations. Perhaps even a part of our identity.

And those losses are real. They deserve to be acknowledged and grieved. But somewhere in the middle of an unwanted transition, another question eventually begins to emerge: Given what I cannot control, what can I choose?

For us, that question required paying attention to what mattered most. At the time, I didn't have the Needs and Values Assessment I use today in my coaching practice. But looking back, I can see that many of the conversations my wife and I were having were really conversations about needs and values.

What did our family need in this next season?

What kind of environment would allow us to thrive?

What mattered most to us about the way we lived, worked, served, and related to others?

What were we willing to release?

And what were we no longer willing to compromise?

Those questions didn't make the decision painless. But they helped us recognize that even within circumstances we hadn't chosen, we weren't powerless. We could still discern. We could still choose. We could still move toward a life aligned with what mattered most.

Forced Doesn't Have to Mean Powerless

I think this is particularly important when we're navigating a transition that feels forced.

There's a difference between saying: "I didn't choose this." and saying: "I have no choice."

The first may be completely true. The second often isn't.

You may not have chosen retirement. You may not have chosen an empty nest. You may not have chosen your organization's new direction. You may not have chosen the needs of an aging parent, the closing of a door, or the circumstances that suddenly changed the future you imagined. But you still have choices about how you will respond.

You can pay attention to what you're grieving. You can name what you need. You can rediscover what matters most. You can notice what this new season might be asking of you. And eventually, you can begin making choices about how you want to move forward.

The Transition I Never Would Have Chosen

Looking back now, I can say with confidence that leaving our life overseas redirected the course of my life. But I wouldn't want to romanticize it. I didn't stand at the beginning of that transition thinking, This is going to open all kinds of wonderful new possibilities. I mostly saw what we might lose.

That's often how unwanted transition works. We see the ending long before we can imagine the beginning. Only with time do we begin to recognize that an ending we never would have chosen can also create space for something we never would have imagined.

That doesn't make the loss less real. It simply means the loss doesn't get the final word. And perhaps that's one of the quiet invitations hidden within transition: Not to pretend we chose what happened. Not to rush toward a silver lining. But to slowly rediscover our ability to choose what happens next.

Coaching Question

In the transition you didn't choose, where might you still have more choice than you realize?

If you're navigating a transition you didn't ask for, I'd be honored to walk alongside you. Coaching can provide a place to acknowledge what you've lost, reconnect with what matters most, and begin discerning how you want to move forward—even when the path ahead isn't yet clear.

P.S. If you'd like to explore these ideas in a practical, interactive setting, I'd love for you to join me for my upcoming Navigating Transition workshop on September 22. Together, we'll explore a practical framework and tools to help you navigate change with greater clarity, confidence, and purpose.