Years ago, I contributed a chapter to a book called The Wisdom of the Silver Sisters: Guiding Grace. My chapter was titled “The Joys of Being a Chameleon,” and at the time, I was writing about the beauty of adapting, changing, and becoming different versions of ourselves as life asks different things of us.

The funny thing is, at 63 — closer to 64 every day — I still feel that way.

I am still changing. Still learning. Still asking myself what I want to be when I grow up.

And maybe that is not something I should have outgrown by now. Maybe that is the point.

We are taught, quietly or loudly, that there should be some point where we arrive. Where we are healed enough. Strong enough. Successful enough. Settled enough. Certain enough.

But most of us are not walking around as finished products.

We are still learning. Still adjusting. Still healing. Still changing our minds. Still finding our way back to ourselves.

And maybe that is not failure.

Maybe that is becoming.

Evidence of life, not failure

I have spent much of my life unfinished — and becoming something new. There have been moments when I felt embarrassed or discouraged that I was not where I thought I should be. Everyone else can appear to be moving forward with confidence while you are still standing there wondering if you missed a map everyone else received.

But becoming is not proof that you are behind. It is proof that you are still engaged with your own life. Knowing you are still a work in progress, no matter your age, gives you grace to admit:

·       You are not stuck, even if progress is slow.

·       You are allowed to outgrow old versions of yourself.

·       Your story is not frozen at your hardest chapter.

·       You are allowed to change without apologizing for it.

Being unfinished is not the same as being lost. Sometimes, it is simply evidence that you are still living, still paying attention, still open to what life is asking of you now.

Chameleons do not change colors because they are fake. They change because they are responding to what is around them. Sometimes we do, too. We adapt. We survive. We soften. We strengthen. We become.

That middle place

No one tells you how much of life is spent in the space between, “I am not quite who I was” and “I am not quite who I am becoming.”

There are so many pivot points — some chosen, some thrust upon us — that can knock us into that middle place, where becoming feels as awkward and uncomfortable as adolescence:

·       after loss

·       after divorce or a relationship change

·       after illness

·       after becoming a parent, or after children leave home

·       after realizing an old life no longer fits

·       after surviving something no one else can see

That middle place can feel strange because there is often no big announcement. No clean before-and-after. No applause.

Just small, daily choices to keep becoming.

Becoming is often quiet

Sometimes becoming does not look like transformation. There is no dramatic music. No perfect reveal. No moment when everything suddenly makes sense.

Sometimes it looks like one honest choice at a time.

Sometimes it looks like:

·       setting a boundary

·       resting without guilt

·       trying again after disappointment

·       saying no

·       asking for help

·       choosing peace over proving yourself

·       getting out of bed

·       not going back to something that hurt you

·       letting yourself want more

It is not always visible to other people. But that does not make it any less real.

Some of the bravest becoming happens quietly, in the parts of our lives no one claps for.

Growth is not always graceful

Becoming can be messy. It can involve backtracking, doubt, grief, confusion, and days when you do not feel strong at all.

Growth is not always graceful. Healing is not always linear. Change does not always announce itself.

But that does not mean it is not happening.

You can be proud of how far you have come and still unsure of where you are going. You can be grateful for what you have survived and still need time to understand what comes next.

You can still be changing colors.

“still becoming”

That is why the words “still becoming” feel so important to me.

They are not loud. They do not pretend everything is easy. They do not demand that we have it all figured out.

They simply make room for the truth:

We are still here.

Still learning.

Still softening.

Still growing.

Still becoming.

And that is enough.

Because you are allowed to be proud before the finish line. You are allowed to change. You are allowed to begin again and still not know exactly where it leads. You do not have to earn gentleness by becoming perfect first. You are not behind because you are still in process.

So if you are in a season where you do not quite recognize yourself yet, maybe this is your reminder: you are not failing. You are becoming. And becoming is allowed to take time.

You do not have to be finished to be worthy.

You do not have to be certain to be moving forward.

You do not have to be perfect to be growing.

You are still becoming.

And that counts.

We created ‘still becoming’ for the ones who are learning to honor the process — not just the outcome. For the ones in the middle. For the ones who are different than they used to be, but not quite sure who they are becoming yet.

You can find ‘still becoming’ in the Quiet Strength Collection.