The Season I Didn’t Understand

The Season I Didn’t Understand

There is a conversation I once had with my husband that has stayed with me ever since. We were talking about unfamiliar seasons, those moments when life places you somewhere you never imagined, somewhere uncomfortable, lonely, and confusing. And he said something that shifted my entire perspective: sometimes God doesn’t place us in unfamiliar spaces to punish us or test us, but to introduce us to ourselves.

When I moved to Japan, I felt deeply isolated. I couldn’t understand why my life had taken this turn, why God would lead me so far away from familiarity, language, culture, and comfort. I complained, often. To my family, to my friends, to anyone who would listen. I felt unheard, unseen, and misunderstood, even by myself.

One day, a close friend gently asked me a question that cracked something open in me: “Don’t you think you’re being too hard on yourself? Could it be that your complaining is stopping you from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel?” That question didn’t come with judgment, it came with love. And it opened my mind to possibilities I had refused to see.

Before Japan, I worked in a very toxic work environment. I won’t lie, there were moments of happiness there. There were memories, laughter, lessons. But there was also misery. Deep misery. That job forced me to become tough. It taught me how to speak up, how to stand my ground, how to discern what was right and what was wrong. It taught me when to speak and when silence was wisdom.

Many times, I asked God why He placed me in such a painful position. I felt like I was suffering for no reason. But the truth is, I needed that job. I had been home for a long time after graduating, searching, waiting, hoping. I needed to earn something, even if the pay felt insignificant. What I didn’t realize then was that God was preparing me.

Preparing me for Japan.

I truly believe I would not have survived this transition if I hadn’t gone through what I went through at that workplace. Japan required resilience. It demanded emotional strength, patience, self-discipline, and discernment. The shift in culture. The shift in language. The shift in identity. Being completely on my own.

This kind of transition was new to me. Every other step I had taken in life, every new chapter, I had someone beside me. A family member. A friend. A support system. This time, I had to take a leap of faith alone. And I won’t pretend it was easy. It wasn’t.

But Japan taught me something sacred.

It taught me to let go of old habits that no longer served me. It taught me to sit with myself. To confront my fears. To unlearn survival modes I had mistaken for personality. It taught me that discomfort can be a classroom, and loneliness can be a mirror.

So what am I really trying to say?

Sometimes the phase you are in feels like abandonment. You feel like grace has left you. Like God is silent. Like you don’t know where to start or what step to take next. But maybe, just maybe, God hasn’t left at all. Maybe He’s closer than ever, quietly shaping you, refining you, preparing you for a version of yourself you haven’t met yet.

Not every unfamiliar place is punishment. Not every hard season is failure. Some are preparation. Some are revelation. And some are invitations, to grow, to heal, and to finally understand who you are becoming.

If you’re in that place right now, hold on. There is light. Even if you can’t see it yet.

Sometimes God changes our location to change our perspective, and in the process, He changes us.