The Calm Between Storms

 

The Calm Between Storms

By Fong Muntoh

Some days in aged care, the corridors feel quieter than usual—not because there’s peace, but because something is waiting to happen. Not a crisis. Not yet. Just the weight of questions hanging in the air.

I’ve come to learn that not every problem needs solving immediately. Some things just need time. Some people just need space. And sometimes, the best thing a leader can do… is to wait without anger.

Lately, I’ve been trying not to react. Not because I don’t feel—but because I’m learning that most problems are not problems. They’re questions in disguise.

“Why is she withdrawn today?”
“Why did the staff make that choice?”
“Why does this family seem so unhappy, no matter how much we try?”

It’s easy to be frustrated. To raise a voice. To fix. To control.
But more often now, I choose to breathe. To step back. To trust that the answers will come—not always in the form I expect, and not always from me.

Aged care is full of noise—alarms, footsteps, voices calling “nurse.” But there is also silence.
Between complaints and compliments. Between death and discharge.
Between being strong for everyone… and sitting alone with your thoughts.

And in this silence, I’ve found something unexpected:
Clarity.
Grace.
Even strength.

The calm between storms isn’t emptiness.
It’s reflection.
It’s restraint.
It’s the quiet work of mending what cannot be rushed.

We often talk about action—about doing, moving, fixing.
But there’s an art to not doing.
To waiting with awareness.
To letting something unfold without pushing it forward.

So today, as nothing much happens, I remind myself:
Storms always pass. But it is in the calm that we build the strength to weather the next one.