I’ve had to start again more times than I can count — after injuries, moves, and seasons that disrupted the rhythms I was building. This post is a reflection on unfinished things, learning to begin again without shame, and trusting that growth can still come after setbacks.

Quiet used to be optional. Now it feels essential. A reflection on motherhood, overstimulation, and how real rest is often found in ordinary, sacred moments—far from our screens and closer than we think.

Households are shaped slowly, by what is practiced again and again. In this final post of Habits of the Household, I reflect on the quiet habit underneath them all—presence—and how small, faithful choices form a home over time. This is an invitation to return to what holds, not perfectly, but faithfully.

Rest used to feel like something I had to earn—something I could finally reach once the work was finished and everyone else was taken care of. But in a full season of motherhood, that “finish line” rarely comes. In this part of my Habits That Hold Us When Life Feels Full series, I’m learning what it looks like to choose rest that truly restores instead of rest that distracts… and to release the guilt that tries to follow me into every pause.

After our cross-country move, I could feel the months of running on fumes catching up with me—brain fog, puffiness, and a heaviness I couldn’t ignore. In this post, I share the gentle shift that helped me climb out of the spiral: moving from restriction and food rules to nourishment that restores. From morning smoothies and simple protein-based meals to gut-health rhythms like sauerkraut and kimchi, this is an honest reflection on caring for a tired body in a full season—without shame, pressure, or perfection.

Some mornings, the house feels loud before a single word is spoken. This reflective essay from the Habits That Hold Us When Life Is Full series explores the invisible noise of motherhood—the mental load, the constant awareness of being needed—and the quiet that has to be claimed rather than waited for. Through simple early-morning rhythms, this piece invites busy moms to find stillness not through perfection, but through gentle, faithful returning.

In A New Year, the Same Question—And a More Honest Answer, I share how exercise has always been my cornerstone habit—and how it quietly slipped away during a full season of moving, motherhood, and relentless fall months. This post is about returning to movement again, without shame, self-criticism, or all-or-nothing thinking. As part of the Habits That Hold Us When Life Is Full series, it’s a gentle invitation for tired moms to begin again, even if this isn’t the first time they’ve had to.

Habits That Hold Us When Life Is Full is a gentle, faith-rooted series for women living in full seasons of motherhood, responsibility, and quiet exhaustion. This introduction reflects on why consistency often feels impossible when life is layered and demanding, and why the answer isn’t more discipline—but sustainable rhythms of grace. Written for tired, tender, faithful hearts who are still showing up, this series invites you to return to small, life-giving habits that support you right where you are.

As Christmas approaches, I find myself reflecting on the tension between the manger and the marketplace. I’m thinking through how faith, generosity, and parenting shape the way we celebrate—especially in a season that so easily drifts toward excess.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it really means to trust God with big life decisions. Some seasons feel so clearly led by Him, and others leave me wondering if I’m listening or simply doing the best I can. This is the story of how God met us in both.

This morning didn’t go as planned, but it became a lesson in letting go, resting, and trusting that community doesn’t fall apart without me. Here’s what I’m learning.

Ever feel called to something scary? In this story, I share how God used Joshua 4, a jar of stones, and years of small miracles to give us courage during one of the biggest moves of our lives.

Hosting can feel like a lot—especially when your table isn’t even set yet. But lately, I’ve been reminded that what people really want isn’t perfection; it’s connection. My Gran showed me that. Her home was full of warmth, music, and the smell of something delicious, and everyone felt like family. In this post, I’m sharing how I’m learning to open my home with the same kind of love—and how God meets us right there in the messy, beautiful middle. 🍁

Sometimes the thing that interrupts our plans isn’t punishment — it’s preparation. This is the story of how God used a “whale season” in my life to slow me down, re-shape my obedience, and teach me what surrender really looks like.

I’ve learned that doubt doesn’t always mean I’m on the wrong path. Sometimes it’s just proof that I’m stepping into something meaningful. When I start questioning what God’s asking me to do, I remind myself that faith isn’t the absence of uncertainty—it’s choosing to move forward in the middle of it.

I’ve learned that “more is caught than taught.”
Our daughters are watching how we live — how we love, create, and trust God when life stretches us. This isn’t about perfection; it’s about modeling a life fully alive in Him.

I never thought of myself as someone who struggled with control—until I found myself pleading with God to change a situation I didn’t understand. Through our foster care journey, I learned what it really means to surrender and trust that His plans are better than mine. This story is a reminder to hold things loosely and believe that even when we can’t see the whole picture, God’s way is always best.

When we packed up our life in New Jersey and moved ten hours away with our five kids, I thought I was prepared for the change. But what I didn’t expect was how deeply I would crave the familiar — the people, the places, even the small routines that made life feel steady. It wasn’t just a move; it was a stretching of my heart. I found myself learning, in very real ways, that growth rarely happens in comfort. God was inviting us into something new, and even though it felt uncertain, He was faithful to meet us there — in the unfamiliar, the uncomfortable, and the in-between.

Moving can shake something deep within us — not just our routines, but our sense of belonging. This post is a reflection on what it feels like to step into the unfamiliar, how the ache for “home” lingers, and what time (and grace) are quietly teaching me about starting over.

When my family moved to South Carolina, I began noticing things I had never paid attention to before—abandoned cars on the highways, the steady hum of traffic, even the sounds in my own backyard. It was as if God gave me fresh eyes in this new season. What I realized is that He often uses change and transition to sharpen our spiritual senses. In this post, I share how moving opened my heart to see God’s presence in the everyday, how Scripture reminds us to “have ears to hear,” and how we can notice Him in both the quiet and the noise of life.