Anchored Between the Chimes

When we moved into this house, there was a spot—right in the center of the main floor—that needed a grandfather clock. Not wanted. Needed. I had seen the perfect one in a shop downtown and told my mom, “If there’s any way this could be my birthday/Christmas/New Year’s/Easter present—I need that clock.”

A few days later, it was delivered.

And honestly? That clock became more than furniture. It became a symbol. My anchor. It ticks and chimes with quiet consistency, no matter what kind of chaos swirls around it. I love winding it. I love hearing its sounds. It’s not flashy or demanding—it just…keeps going.

Some days, I feel like that clock. Calm. Solid. Reliable. Other times, not so much. But it reminds me that even in uncertain times, some part of me keeps time. Keeps moving. Trusts the process.

Over the years, people have asked how I knew when I was ready for big changes. How did I know I wanted kids? That it was time to leave my marriage? That I was done with a career in teaching? And the truth is: I just decided.

But not always right away.

Sometimes I’ve known what I needed long before I was ready to act on it. I’ve often lived in the space between knowing and doing—what I think of as a drifting phase. I’m not stuck, not exactly. I’m just waiting for something to click into place. That in-between space isn’t always comfortable, but I’ve learned to trust it.

I remember a friend confiding in me during one of the hardest times in her life. Her young son had a significant medical condition, and her marriage was barely holding together. She asked me, “How did you go through a divorce with so much uncertainty around you?” I didn’t have a quick-fix answer. I just told her what I’d come to believe: You’ll know when it’s time. And a few years later, she did. And it was.

That conversation didn’t feel like giving advice—it felt like recognition. I knew that terrain well. I’ve been there. I’ve lived in that tension—between choosing and waiting. Between being anchored and feeling adrift. Between action and patience.

If I had to name the forces at play inside me, I’d say I’m a Taoist at heart with a Stoic backbone.

My inner Taoist believes in effortless action—wu wei—and trusts the natural unfolding of life. It whispers, “Flow with it. Don’t force.” I’ve always resonated with that energy, especially in those drifting moments where all I could do was breathe and wait.

But my Stoic side brings in the steel. It’s the part of me that believes in showing up even when it’s hard. That doesn’t need ideal conditions to move forward. That part says, “Decide. Do the next right thing.”

Living between those two philosophies isn’t always graceful, but it’s honest. I don’t try to pick one over the other. I just let them keep time together, like the gears inside my clock.

There were times I felt deeply anchored—early motherhood, for one. It was chaotic, sure, but I had purpose. Teaching grounded me for years. So did falling in love with Craig and building a home that felt safe and stable.

But there were drifting seasons too. After my divorce. During job transitions. Facing retirement. Figuring out what was next when I didn’t have a tidy answer.

And through it all, the clock kept ticking.

It never rushed. Never paused. Just ticked along, marking the time whether I felt grounded or not.

It still does.

And it reminds me that I’ve always found my way back to clarity—not by pushing or forcing, but by honoring both the waiting and the deciding. In my own time. In my own way.

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