Submitting to Delay

To say 2025 has been challenging is an understatement. It has been a year full of firsts, lasts, and in-betweens—and yet, life just keeps marching on. Speed bumps have appeared on every road traveled: personally, professionally, and even spiritually.

This year has brought loss, growth, and new beginnings. My son graduated from high school and made some profound adult decisions. He converted to Catholicism and committed to college—two colleges, to be exact—and that opportunity came by… submitting to delay.

Not long into 2025, the delays began to frustrate me, so I decided to pause and consider the lesson in my circumstance. Shortly afterward, I embraced that phrase “submit to delay” and began using it as a personal mantra. It became a tool, a reminder to trust God’s plan for my life and not give in to haste or frustration. That phrase saved me from constant anxiety, feelings of defeat, inadequacy, and the overwhelming sense of being buried under too much. Without it, I could not have enjoyed my son’s senior year or celebrated his accomplishments, let alone remained effective in my many roles.

I thought of Moses, leading through the desert while surrounded by a village that complained, doubted, and pushed back. In that moment, I decided: I wasn’t going to be the nay-sayer, the stone in the shoe, or the doomsday prepper. I was going to trust the process, press forward, and keep putting one foot in front of the other—straight toward the land of milk and honey.

Once I began to submit to delay, the fog lifted. The anxiety and feelings of defeat gave way to gratitude. I started counting my blessings again. I had to start small because things had become so heavy. As I went back to the basics, the gratitude grew alongside my strength.

In fact, I’ve never been one to wish away a season, but 2025 almost broke me. I came close to saying out loud, “I just want this year to be over.” Yet my mantra kept those words locked behind my lips and helped me return to the version of myself who says: The days are long, but the years are short. One day you’ll miss the sleepless nights, the cluttered floors, the messy walls. That mantra kept me sane.

Even my peers and co-workers noticed my positive attitude, solution-focused mindset, and ability to adapt amidst the challenges and changes. I’ve shared my mantra with them, with patients, friends, and family—all of whom have been integral to my growth and survival during this desert walk.

For reference, here’s a quick timeline of just the first half of the year: In January, we lost my beloved aunt. In February, my dearest, most loved, and BEST neighbor EVER also journeyed home to the Heavens. My right hand at work departed, leaving a hole that’s still not filled. In March, my mother-in-law passed away, followed by my father-in-law in June—all leaving holes in our hearts.

In between all of that, there were U-Hauls, funerals, flowers, end-of-life planning, and grief layered over FAFSA deadlines, my son’s high school “lasts,” graduation planning, juggling work, and the challenges of healthcare—all while still missing my right hand. Add to that my roles as mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, pet mom, co-worker, business partner, and provider. To say it was daunting would be an understatement. And yet—my mantra held me steady.

Another loss we grieved was my son’s decision to step away from baseball. G poured his heart into the sport, and we poured into him—sacrificing vacations for tournaments, traveling hours to practices, and gladly supporting his dream financially and emotionally. Baseball brought him joy, built his character, and kept him grounded. Not to mention, he was good—and deeply loved by coaches, teammates, opponents, and even umpires. Anyone who stepped onto a field with G experienced his smile, his leadership, and his pure love of the game.

Despite encouragement from us, his coaches, friends, and loved ones, he chose to forgo sending letters, creating highlight reels, or putting himself out there. Instead, he enrolled in junior college and was accepted into the HVAC program.

We reminded him, “Do young things while you’re young.” But the realist in him was starting to silence the dreamer.

Then, in late July, while playing what he said was “his last season,” a college coach spotted him. They connected, and soon we were touring the campus and navigating NCAA requirements. In just four weeks, he had changed course, and we were moving him into a four-year university, and he was playing on a D2 baseball team.

That delay, that pause in his path, was necessary. It gave him perspective, validation, and a renewed sense of belonging at the next level.

In choosing what felt like the practical path, God gently redirected G to the one meant for him—and reminded us all why submitting to delay matters: trust the timing, embrace the pause, and believe in the journey, even when the road is hard. What’s meant for us will arrive at exactly the right moment.

Along the way, I can’t help but wonder: What delays in your life have turned out to be blessings in disguise?

So, in a nutshell … We are all deserving of the next level—whatever that looks like. The journey requires patience, gratitude, and focus on the blessings. If we let the negatives, the challenges, or the delays take root, they only choke out the flowers meant to grow in our lives.

But just as important, we can’t stop believing in the dream. Dreams are often the spark God uses to push us forward, even when the timing doesn’t make sense. Submitting to delay doesn’t mean giving up on the dream—it means trusting that the dream will bloom in its season.