Rev. Colleen Irwin

You Are Still Becoming

The concept of you are still becoming is a new one to me.  Aging is not a closing chapter—it’s an unfolding story.  For me, the shift began after my father died.

He was abusive, and while it’s difficult to name, his absence created space. For the first time, I could begin exploring my personal spirituality—not from fear, but from freedom. The version of me that had long been buried began to rise.

That becoming deepened after my mother passed.

She made no secret of her disappointment in who I was or what I believed. Her negativity ran deep, especially when it came to my spiritual path. Grief blended with relief. Yet with both parents gone, the air cleared. I could finally see myself—unfiltered.

Around that same time, something else began to bloom.  George and I have known each other for nearly 40 years. But the year before my mother’s death, our relationship deepened. In him, I found the safety I had always craved. I didn’t need to shrink or apologize. There was space so I could soften. I could speak freely. And slowly, I began to see: I was not done growing.

There Is No Finish Line to Your Becoming

Spiritual evolution doesn’t stop with age—it sharpens.

As I shed layers of conditioning, my mediumship transformed. It became less about performance and more about presence. I no longer sought validation. I opened to guidance. Messages from Spirit felt clearer, more rooted.

Through my trials, I became a mapmaker.
Now, I cheer on women who feel lost in the fog of midlife and beyond.
I say, “You’re not starting over. You’re arriving.”

You are still becoming. Every scar, every step, every sorrow has shaped the wisdom you hold now.

You Are Not Starting Over—You’re Rising Up

This is not reinvention. This is reclamation.

You are not too much. It is not too late. You are not vanishing.
You are returning—to your truth, your softness, your fire.

We don’t fully arrive at ourselves in our twenties—we gather. In truth, we stretch, we stumble. We learn who we are by learning who we’re not. And then, one day, we stop apologizing for how brightly we shine.

This season is not your end.
You are still becoming. Let the world see you now.

A Simple Sacred Practice: Honoring the Woman You’ve Outgrown

Light a candle and sit quietly.
Think of the version of yourself who twisted herself to fit.
The one who survived criticism, silence, or shame.

Thank her.
Then, write a letter to the woman you are becoming.
Welcome her home. She’s been waiting.

Ask Yourself:

• What part of myself have I reclaimed in this season of life?
• Who could benefit from the story I’ve lived?