Bumper Rails & Gutter Balls: Growing Without the Guards

There are seasons of life that feel like one long string of gutter balls (you know when you are rolling the ball and hitting nothing), personally, professionally, spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. Just coming up blank.

As a wife…

As a professional…

As a grown woman navigating big decisions, deep emotions, and shifting roles…

You look up and realize the bumper rails that once kept you steady—your mama's voice, your daddy’s covering, your childhood home, even your old routines—have been pulled back. And life is asking you to bowl without bumpers.

Now listen—I thought about this one day at the bowling alley.

I took the babies and my 10-year-old to bowl. Naturally, I put the bumpers up because the little ones need them. But here’s the kicker—because the bumpers are on for them, my 10-year-old gets them too. And the truth is, she still needs them sometimes. She’s too old for the dinosaur ramp, not skilled enough to strike consistently, so the bumpers keep her ball in the lane.

And that’s us, sis.

We’re in that in-between: Too old for the dinosaur ramp. Too grown for the bumpers. Not quite skilled enough to hit strikes every time.

We're stepping into varying new roles—wife, mother, CEO, caretaker—and looking around like, wait a minute... where’s my backup? Where's my buffer?

Because what nobody tells you about growing up is that it often feels like losing your protection before you gain your footing.

I think about my goddaughter. She’s 14, growing fast, doing her thing—but every time she steps back into our home, into the room that used to be hers, she looks around and you can see it on her face: I miss my bumpers. She even articulated it before.

We all know that feeling where we reflect on what was and realize how much we miss the things we once took for granted.

Not the physical things.

But the safety.

The covering.

The ease.

And I get it. Because I miss mine, too.

Some days I want to scream, "Can somebody just put the bumpers back up?! Can I get a do-over? A little guidance? A shoulder to cry on without feeling weak?"

But here's what I’ve learned:

As we grow, we don’t lose the need for support—we just need to name it differently. We don't stop needing love—we just have to ask for it directly. We don’t outgrow care—we just have to communicate where the gaps are.

You might need to say to your mama: “Ma, I’m throwing everything I’ve got, but life keeps hitting the gutter. I need you—not to fix it, but just to remind me, I’m not alone.

You may need to say to God: “Lord, I feel uncovered, like I’m walking this out blind. Be my bumper rail. Order my steps.”

You might even need to say to yourself: “It’s okay to want covering. It’s okay to miss the old protections. But I’ve also got new grace for this new game.”

And just maybe, your support doesn’t look like rails anymore. Maybe it’s the dinosaur ramp—the thing you lean on while you aim.

💬 Think About It:

Where in your life do you feel like you're bowling without bumpers?
Who or what used to be your guardrails that you miss today?
Where can you ask for help instead of pretending you’re okay?

✨ Affirmation:

Even when the bumper guards are gone, I am still protected. God is my guide, my guard, and my glory. I am growing in grace, even in the gutters.

Let's Do the Work:

Let’s normalize the in-between seasons—the ones where we’re growing, grieving, and still going.

When the Bumpers Are Gone

Growth will stretch you.

Grief will humble you.

And transition will make you long for the bumpers you once took for granted.

But here’s what I know:

God doesn’t remove the rails to punish you—He removes them to prepare you.

Not to leave you exposed, but to teach you how to lean.

Not to strip you of safety, but to strengthen your swing.

You might miss the calls from your momma before the interview…

The way daddy’s voice could calm your nerves with one “you got this.”

You might miss the certainty, the simplicity, the spiritual security of being somebody’s baby.

But now—you’re becoming somebody’s answer.

The Protector.

The Nurturer.

The Safe Place.

So when life starts to feel like a string of gutter balls, PAUSE.

Take a breath.

And remember: You’re not without help.

You’re just being invited into a new level of holy handling.

The lane hasn’t changed—but you have.

And even here, even now, even without the bumpers… you’re still covered.

📢 Share this blog if it spoke to your heart. Tag another woman who's navigating growth and grief in the same season. Let her know—she’s not bowling alone.