This trip?
It wasn’t the longest we’ve ever taken.
It wasn’t the fanciest, either.

But it was real.

It was unplugged—more than any trip we’ve done in years.

And it was full of the kind of moments that sneak up on you—the ones you don’t even realize you’re going to remember forever, until they settle in.

The thing about unplugging—truly unplugging—is that it makes you notice life differently.

The pace slows down.

The people around you get your full attention.

The constant pull of emails, notifications, work stress—it quiets just long enough for the real stuff to rise to the surface.

I don’t want to lose that now that we’re home.

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What I Want to Carry Forward

This trip wasn’t just a vacation—it was a reset.

And there are things I’m intentionally bringing back into our daily life now that we’re home:

• More slow mornings. Not jumping into work, chores, or screens the second we wake up.

• Less multitasking. Because “present” and “distracted” can’t live in the same moment.

• Saying yes to more experiences, even when my nerves say otherwise.

• Letting the boys be brave, without my fear writing their story.

• And reminding myself daily— we can all do hard things.

We proved that, over and over, on this trip.

From thrill rides to water slides to Ferris wheels to backyard projects.

From family conversations to lost teeth to watching my boys grow into themselves in ways I didn’t even realize they were ready for yet.

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What I’m Leaving Behind

I’m also leaving a few things behind—things that no longer feel worth carrying:

• The pressure to always “keep up.”

• The need to have my phone in hand every second.

• The guilt that comes from stepping back to rest.

• The lie that fear has to lead the way.

Life doesn’t have to run at full speed all the time.

And sometimes? Slowing down is where the real growth happens.

A Final God-Wink

Before this trip, I prayed for time to reset.

To reconnect with my family.

To step away from the noise and listen to what God’s been trying to say in the quieter moments.

I didn’t realize how much I needed that space—until I made it.

And now? I’m holding onto it as tightly as I can, even back in the chaos of “real life.”

Because here’s the truth…

We don’t unplug to escape life.We unplug to come back to it, more aware of what matters, more grateful for what we have, and more intentional with how we spend our time.

Thanks for following along as I shared this little road trip chapter of our life.

It’s messy. It’s imperfect. It’s ours.

And I’m so glad you’re here for the ride.

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More stories, more real-life updates and ah-ha moments coming soon… but for now, here’s to holding onto the good stuff, wherever you are.

I always love getting back there, even if it’s not as often as I’d like.

But this trip especially? It felt good to slow down, catch up with family, and remind the boys of their roots.

Helping My Mom—And Watching Her Push Through

This past year and a half hasn’t been easy for my mom.

She’s been dealing with a neck injury that’s made everyday tasks harder than they should be—and left her unable to work.

It’s hard to watch someone you love push through pain just to get basic things done.

But at the same time? It’s inspiring to see how determined and creative she’s become, figuring out new ways to tackle projects and stay as independent as possible.

One of the highlights this trip was helping her paint the carport, especially with new concrete being poured.

I know that must sound crazy to some people, who in the world wants to paint, especially out in the hot sun in the middle of the day while on vacation!

Here is the thing… we don’t live close enough for those easy weekend check-ins.

So when we do make it back, it’s important to me that we show up, lend a hand, and set that example for our boys.

We talk a lot about family. About service. About loving people in action—not just words.

And sometimes, those lessons look like paint rollers, new concrete, and a whole lot of figuring it out as we go.

They also got the opportunity to run the tractor and that was a highlight that didnt feel like work!

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Generations, Grandparents, and Full-Circle Conversations

The older I get, the more I appreciate how rare it is for my boys to have so many grandparents and great-grandparents still in their lives.

We carved out time with cousins, grandparents, great-grandparents—the whole crew.

It’s not lost on me how different our life is now.

No casual weekend pop-ins, no easy dinner invites.

But when we’re in town? We soak it up.

Laughing, swapping stories, watching my boys build connections with the same people who shaped me growing up.

Those moments matter more than I can explain.

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Toothless Milestones (And a Very Busy Tooth Fairy)

The Tooth Fairy stayed busy on this trip… though technically, her work started before we even left home.

Just days before we packed up, Abel lost a tooth.

And during the trip? Two more for him, plus one for Jace.

It’s funny… this is the same kid who braved giant water slides and thrill rides like a pro—but when it comes to loose teeth?

Total meltdown energy.

But something shifted this time.

The first tooth? Panic.

The second? Slightly better.

By the third? He actually pulled it himself.

We laughed the whole trip about him being our little Toothless, which felt full-circle because when I was pregnant with him, Jace nicknamed him “the baby dragon,” thanks to his How to Train Your Dragon obsession.

Fast forward eight years, and here we are—Abel, pulling teeth and living up to the nickname.

Nana’s TV and Backyard Chaos

And of course, no visit to Nana’s is complete without the boys soaking up their favorite “retro” shows—Walker, Texas Ranger and The Andy Griffith Show.

Limited screen time or not, you better believe they are glued to those reruns every single time we visit.

There’s just something about mountain air, classic TV, and slowing down that never gets old.

Especially when it collides with cousin birthdays and backyard chaos.

Both of my boys and two of my nephews all have birthdays within three and a half weeks of each other, which means summer visits = birthday season.

A yard full of kids. Backyard games. Cake. Cousin adventures.

It’s one of my favorite traditions.

It reminds me that the best memories aren’t always about plane tickets or extravagant plans.

Sometimes, it’s porch sitting, paint rollers, backyard birthdays, and laughing with the people who’ve known you forever.

Tomorrow, I’ll share the final post in this series—the things I’m carrying home with me, the reminders I don’t want to forget, and how this unplugged trip is reshaping what “real life” looks like for us going forward.

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Spoiler: They did not.

Next up?

Dollywood’s Splash Country—their version of a giant water park tucked into the Tennessee mountains.

And let me set the record straight…in a very similar way to amusement park rides… I don’t dislike water parks.

I actually love family raft rides.
I love a good, slow, relaxing lazy river.
I love swimming, and wave pools, and floating the day away.

What I don’t love?

Massive, 150-foot-tall water slides that drop at 90-degree angles.

Dark, fully enclosed tunnel slides where you can’t see a thing.

And I definitely don’t love crowds of thousands when I’m trying to keep two fearless boys alive in the mix.

But off we went.

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Courage… With a Life Vest

I wasn’t too worried about Jace—he’s swimming better than ever and pushing himself to stay under longer, go deeper, and really enjoy the water.

But Abel? Whole different story.

This is the same kid who just crushed thrill rides like a pro…

But ask him to put his face in the water?
Absolutely not.

He loves the water—as long as it stays chest high.

He’s made it very clear that wearing a life vest for the rest of his life is an acceptable solution.

But here’s the twist…

The kid who refuses to swim?

Also determined to ride every big slide in the park.

Cue my anxious mom brain:
What if he panics halfway down?
What if the water’s too deep at the bottom?
What if… what if… what if…

We eased into the day with the wave pool (his safe zone) and a few smaller rides… but it was obvious Abel had his eyes locked on the big ones.

And me? I was preparing every excuse possible to stall.

But here’s the thing no one warned me about…
Turns out, most of the big slides… They don’t even land you in deep water anymore.
The water barely covers your ankles at the bottom.

Which meant… there went all my excuses.

Awesome.

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Brave Comes in All Sizes

We started with a family raft ride—the perfect compromise.
Safe. Familiar. And, honestly? A fun way to ease my own nerves.

The boys loved it.

And from there? Game on.

THEY climbed steps to the tallest slides, waited in line after line, and every time, I watched my youngest—tiny compared to the crowds—march right up, determined to conquer every ride, even knowing he wasn’t swimming.

And me?
I stood there praying…
Praying for their safety.
Praying for my nerves to stay put.
Praying for the kind of courage that lets them experience life—even when I’m silently panicking on the sidelines.

And spoiler?
They crushed it.
Every ride, every drop, every new challenge… they came off grinning, laughing, ready for more.

Brave Isn’t One Size Fits All

Watching Abel reminded me—bravery looks different for everyone.

Brave doesn’t always mean diving headfirst.

Sometimes, it means knowing your limits—and still finding ways to push yourself.

He wasn’t swimming.

His face never touched the water.

And yet?

He climbed those stairs, took the plunge, and did the hard thing anyway.

And honestly? I couldn’t have been prouder.

This whole trip has been teaching me how to sit with my fear… how to give them space to be brave… and how to remind myself:

You can do hard things.

Even when they involve water slides, nerves, and letting go of control.

Tomorrow, we’ll head to North Carolina—slow the pace, catch up with family, and somehow squeeze three lost teeth, classic TV reruns, and backyard birthday chaos all into one final stretch of this wild trip.

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—

UPDATE:

At the time I am hitting publish on this post there has been a massive change in Abel’s swimming ability and confidence.

A weekend at the pool once we got home and its a whole new ballgame.

Check out the video below to see how amazing this kid is!

I realize I’m making it sound like I’m no fun at amusement parks, so let me clear that up a bit more.

Here’s the deal…

I actually like speed. I’ve been known to ride big, fast roller coasters in the past. But it’s been a while—like, years. And these days? I get carsick at the drop of a hat.

I’ve ridden a ferris wheel about this size before too.

But again—it’s been years. And I knew walking into this one, there were going to be some uncomfortable moments.

Note: This wasn’t your average state fair ferris wheel.

This was the fancy version: completely glass-enclosed cabins, padded seats, heat, air conditioning… luxury in the sky.

And there is also a panic button so that you can be brought down asap if needed. 🫨

And yet… my stomach was still doing flips just standing in line.

It’s not even the height that gets me.

I can look around, I can look down—slowly.

But my body seems to forget where it is in space, and suddenly I feel off-balance, dizzy, like I can’t ground myself.

Part of me wanted to bail—let Will ride with them, or their Pops, or their aunt.
But deep down, I knew I needed to do this.

So I told the boys how I was feeling.

I told them I was nervous. That I didn’t want to be rocked inside the carriage. That I needed them to be still and skip any “funny” ideas they had for scaring me.

And they were so kind, so sweet, so respectful of my feelings.

We climbed in. The door shut. And up we went.

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When the Hand Holding Reverses

The view was incredible—mountains in the distance, lights below, the whole town stretched out under our feet.

But even with the view, I could feel my body swaying, my head getting light, my balance playing tricks on me.

And that’s when it happened.

Jace, my oldest, the one who’s always been able to read me better than most, reached over and grabbed my hand.

Squeezed it tight.

“It’s okay, Mama,” he said, calm as could be.

“You’re doing great. I’m proud of you.”

Cue the lump in my throat—not from fear, but from that overwhelming, bittersweet moment where you realize your kid is becoming the one holding space for you.

Both of them stayed calm.
No teasing. No rocking the carriage.
Just support, reassurance, and pride.

We made it around a few times, stopping at the very top so people could get off below us.

And even there—dangling high above the ground, my stomach in knots—they kept me grounded.

This is how it’s supposed to work sometimes, isn’t it?

We spend years building them up, teaching them bravery, reminding them they can do hard things…

And then, one random Wednesday in Tennessee, they turn around and hand that courage right back to us.

I almost missed that moment.
Almost let fear keep me grounded.

I’m so glad I didn’t.
Because those two tiny hands holding mine?
That’s a core memory I’ll be carrying with me for a long, long time.

Tomorrow, I’ll share more about the next leg of our trip—heading to North Carolina, time with family, helping my mom, birthdays, and all the ways life slowed down in the best way.

And yes… the Tooth Fairy makes an appearance. Three times, to be exact. 💖

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If you’ve never been to Pigeon Forge, picture a mix of mountain views, amusement parks, tourist traps, dinner shows, and enough pancake houses to feed the entire state of Tennessee twice over.

It’s chaotic, a little over the top, but somehow always packed with memories waiting to happen.

It is also known for being the home of the amazing and beloved Dolly Parton, her amusement park Dollywood & water park Splash Country.

We were there to spend time with Will’s dad, his stepmom, and his sister—a few days packed full of experiences:

• The hotel pool and hot-tub

• The NASCAR Speed Park.

• Dollywood’s Splash Country.

• And The Island—basically an outdoor mall meets mini-amusement park, with rides, music, a beautiful fountain light show, and the 200-foot tall Ferris wheel I’ll tell you about in the next post.

  • (This year the Island is being overtaken by Dinosaurs who are promoting the new Jurassic Park movie which was a hit for the boys and served as a great homeschool lesson!)

It was non-stop, and underneath all the fun? I had that familiar thread of anxiety trailing right behind me (and also looming over top of me because the 3 story ropes course was near the top of their list of things to do).

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The Fear You Don’t Want to Pass Down

Just like so many others I have met… I’m not a thrill ride person.

Heights, spinning rides, anything that drops your stomach to your feet? Hard pass.

To also give myself some credit, there are some thrills that I do like (even if I have to spend some time talking myself or having someone else talk me into doing them.)

I like zip-lining, roller coasters that just go fast and maybe have a couple of loops, mountain coasters and go-carts are my kind of things.

My dad once had to stop the SHIP ride at the fair one year because I was about to puke all over those poor people if he didn’t.

Another year I got sick and actually did throw up.. and I wasn’t even on the ride.

I was watching my little sister swing round and round on the SWING ride that is held by long chains and swings you really far out. 🤢

But my boys? They were obsessed with the idea of the big rides that scare me just by looking at them.

Up until this trip, we really hadn’t had the chance to test if they actually liked thrill rides—it was all just talk and excitement from the sidelines.

Both of them had been begging to ride the “biggest, craziest rides possible,” but I’ll be honest… part of me wondered how that would actually go once they were strapped in and facing the reality of flips, drops, and spinning faster than you can see straight.

Turns out… they are not their mother’s children when it comes to thrill rides.

They got every bit of that fearless, adrenaline-chasing trait from their Daddy.

Part of me wanted to sit it all out—go off shopping and relax by the fountain and find out later if they loved or hated it. My mothering anxiety wouldn’t actually allow me to do that because I would be a nervous wreck wondering what was happening.

I am more of a “watch through my fingers and say a prayer” kind of mom.

They asked me multiple times to ride things with them and I respectfully declined and let anyone but me ride with them (except for one very specific ferris wheel adventure, I’ll share more on that later.)

But here is where it gets a bit deeper… there was another part of me that almost wanted to go further.

I caught myself thinking up excuses to keep them off the rides altogether…

• Maybe I could tell them they weren’t tall enough.

• Or maybe use the excuse that the tickets were too expensive.

• I could probably talk them into thinking that they line was too long of a wait…

But that wouldn’t have been fair.
It wouldn’t have been fun.
And it wouldn’t have been right.

I didn’t want my fear to become their story.

So instead, I kept the nerves to myself.

I cheered them on.

I reminded them of one of our favorite sayings:
“You can do hard things.”

And I watched them do exactly that.

They rode the big rides—the ones that made my stomach flip just looking at them.

They made new friends in the lines.

They built courage, independence, and confidence—one terrifying ride at a time.

They even practiced their patience because some of those lines were RIDICULOUS, especially when the ride only lasts 45 seconds!

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Different Kids, Different Kinds of Brave

Want to know another thing this trip highlighted for me? How wildly different my boys are, even in how they face fear.

One’s all in—ready for the thrill.

The other tests the waters, pauses, makes up his mind slower… but still gets there.

Same ride, same moment… totally different approach.

It reminded me that we can’t parent them the same way.

They need different encouragement, different conversations, different space to grow into themselves.

It’s easy to forget that when life’s moving fast.

But standing there, watching them buckle into those rides, I realized how important it is to slow down, to notice, to adjust how I show up for each of them.

Because bravery doesn’t always look loud.
Sometimes, it’s standing in line with your heart racing, but doing it anyway.
Sometimes, it’s being the mom who lets them fly—even when everything inside you wants to hold them back.

And sometimes… they’re the ones teaching you how to be brave.

Tomorrow, I’ll tell you about the 200-foot Ferris wheel, the moment I almost bailed, and how my boys ended up holding my hand at the top.

They can do hard things.
And so can we.

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PS: I also have to take a moment to brag on my husband.

God knew exactly what he was doing when he created this man for me.

I loved getting to watch him be a kid again and ride these crazy rides with the boys.

I loved watching him laugh, play and dance while hanging upside down and telling the boys to throw their hands in the air.

I also love that this picture was taken for me to look back on. (thank you Sherry!)

In the midst of all the noise and chaos, my anxiety was all over the place and as much as I tried to hide it, he recognized what was going on and asked me to dance.

He is so good to me and I am so blessed to call him my partner in this life. ❤️

We didn’t go on a fancy vacation this year… just a simple roadtrip to see family and friends and take our time visiting and trying to relax and have some fun in the process.

We prepped for weeks before getting projects and client meetings done or getting them scheduled upon our return. We communicated with everyone and told them we would be offline for the duration of our trip.

Did we do unplugged perfectly… no, but we did WAYYY better than we have in the past.

Will and I each pulled our computers out only once during the entire two weeks.

Total work time? Maybe 90 minutes. And every second of it? By choice, not pressure.

For the first time in forever, I intentionally stepped away from the noise—the tabs, the notifications, the emails, the feeling of needing to be “on” or at least keeping a close watch all the time.

The time away from the screens and constant notifications proved just how loud and chaotic our world really is.

It allowed us to be present and create not just a few fun moments but real core memories—the ones you don’t realize are happening until you look back and go, yep… we’ll be telling stories about this trip for years.

I hope you enjoy this recap series of the amazing takeaways and ah-ha moments that I had on this trip.

We kicked off our summer vacay by loading up the boys and heading for Lexington Kentucky for our Annual Family Reunion!

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Granny, Generations, and a Hundred Years of Perspective

My Granny absolutely loves these reunions… especially when she gets to show off her grandkids and great-grandkids.

Seeing her surrounded by her family—watching her light up around the kids, seeing her smile stretch even wider when she’s introducing “her babies” to everyone—it’s her favorite thing in the world.

It is also fun to watch my Granny with her sisters and see just how similar me and my sisters are to each of them.

One of the most special moments for me this year was getting to sit down with my Great-Great Aunt Virble, who turned 100 years old back in May.

Born in 1925.

Aunt Virble lived through world wars, cultural shifts, loss, love, and still she carries so much light and gratitude.

Look at this beautiful woman who is still making the time to travel, see family and friends and has stories to share for days and days.

I made it a point to sit with her—not just for a quick hello—but to really listen, to hear her stories and to learn from her.

She’s buried every sibling (she was number 10 of 13 if I am not mistaken), she has buried her husband and so many friends… but her heart is still so full of love for this family and for life itself.

When I asked her what the “secret” to making it this far was, she smiled and said:
“It’s about making sure we are taking care of the babies. I always made sure they were taken care of, even after mine were grown.”

Pouring into the next generation. Loving them, protecting them, showing up for them.

It hit me that, in some small way, that’s exactly what we’ve been trying to do with this new lifestyle we are living, even when life feels messy and overwhelming.

While working and making money is important and in many ways necessary, we have chosen harder paths and decided to make sacrifices in order to pour into our boys as much as we can.

And sitting with her? It reminded me that what feels loud and urgent today—the deadlines, the stress—it’s small in comparison to how we love our people and build our legacy.

The reunion provided us the opportunity to hang out with many of our cousins that we rarely get to see and some that we have never had the opportunity to meet otherwise.

My boys loved playing baseball, throwing discs and discovering locust exoskeletons (Thanks Noy who is now a FAVORITE cousin per the boys 😊 )!

I am grateful to everyone who has put in the time and effort over the years to make this an annual event and I pray that we will continue to make it to many more in the future.

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Porches, Card Games, and a Full-Circle Moment

After the reunion, we headed to a smaller town in Kentucky where my Granny lives with her sister—where I spent a lot of time growing up and visiting in the summers.

Walking into that house always feels like stepping back in time and feels like home.

The same porch I sat on as a kid.

The same yard where me and my sisters spent hours playing and being wild with our cousins.

Even now we come in and make ourselves at home, rummaging through the cabinets to see what kinds of desserts they have been making, pulling out the bedding and toys because its all been in the same spot since I was little.

It just feels… good.

It’s also not often that I get to see my sisters since we live 500 miles apart, and its even more fun when I get the chance to have sleepovers with them and our kids.

As I was getting ready for bed the first night I had one of those moments that stops you mid-step….almost a déjà vu kind of feeling as I walked through the kitchen and saw my oldest son, his and two of his cousins who he has met only a handful of times in his life laughing and most certainly not going to sleep like they were supposed to be doing…

I thought to myself… I used to sleep on that living room floor beside my sisters and our cousins—blankets everywhere, Disney movies running in the background, giggling until we couldn’t keep our eyes open.

Now? My boys are doing the same thing.

I had another one of these moments the next day when we kicked off the morning playing a round of Phase 10 playing card game.

Growing up, one of my favorite parts of visiting my great aunt’s house was watching the adults play cards. Rummy. Phase Ten. They took their card games seriously.

I can still remember when I wasn’t old enough to play—hovering close, wishing I could sit at the table.

And then I remember the moment I was finally old enough… sitting down with the grown-ups, trying to hold my own.

This year? It hit me… I am one of the adults now.

And whats crazier… my boys are the ones learning, sitting with us, being pulled into the circle of family tradition.

Time is wild.

It moves fast when you’re not paying attention—but sometimes, if you slow down long enough, you can feel it loop back on itself.

This trip? That’s exactly what it felt like.

I’ll share more tomorrow—stories of Pigeon Forge, thrill rides, and how this trip turned into one giant lesson on facing fears… for my boys, and for me.

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But today, I want to share something I’m learning right now.

This one is being done in real-time—therefore it is less processed and I am not yet on the other side of knowing where it will lead—but it felt important to get it down on paper and share it while I’m still in the middle of it.

And if you’re new here, welcome.

This space is where I try to write honestly about the intersection of faith, growth, and intentional living.

I’m glad you’re here.

Real-Time Reflections & Experimentations

Last weekend, we took our first camping trip of the season. 🙌🏼 🏕️

While I’d love to say I fully unplugged for days on end, that wouldn’t be true.

Was I off my phone more than usual? Yes.

But I still wanted it close by for pictures/videos and for catching up on some fun and overdue research—finally diving into the Fall season tackle football registration requirements… fun stuff.

And—I’ll be honest—a few times I did let myself mindlessly scroll social media and get lost in the algorithm.

Even so, I also paused to feel the sun on my face as my boys played on the lakeside beach, took long walks with my husband into the woods, and savored conversations and laughter we hadn’t shared in a while.

I enjoyed watching the boys play with Gram and Pap and seeing how much better they are getting at riding their bicycles and meeting new “camp friends” that have now become Minecraft friends.

I even had a moment of awesome creativity when I decided to make a extra fun game of hop-scotch that included fun dance moves that the kids loved!

We looked closely at locusts shells, spent time admiring a more than 260+ year giant Swamp Oak tree and and I taught the boys how to use radio 10 codes on the walkie talkies.

It was in those moments, present and unhurried, that I realized I need to do more of this.

I’m realizing more and more just how fast I move.

Not physically1✨—I’m talking about mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

I’m constantly trying to process more, faster.

I believe this is part of our culture and we are organically evolving with the speed of tech developments and inventions.

I listen to audiobooks and Youtube videos at 1.5× or 2× speed.

I am constantly looking for AI-generated summaries instead of reading the full book or watching the whole replay.

Five-second shorts and 30-second reels, hoping to absorb insight before swiping to the next one.

And I’ve noticed it’s bleeding into other parts of my life, especially the way I speak.

I rush my words and sometimes cut to the point, leaving out valuable information in between, forgetting that others cannot read my mind and understand how I got there.

I’ve even been told—especially by older folks—that I talk too fast and it’s hard for them to understand me.2

I can feel it in conversations too: people feeling rushed, like I’m speeding past the connection.

Even with my kids—who are 11 and 8—this shows up.

They love to tell long, meandering stories, full of detours and repetitions (and sometimes about topics that I am totally not interested in.)

I’ve caught myself getting frustrated, feeling like I just want them to get to the point.

In some cases, I’ve even said it: “Just get to the point of what you’re trying to say please, I am in a hurry and need to do X, Y or Z”

This makes me sad and a little embarrassed, but I’m aware now and working to change it.

The truth is, it takes real effort to slow down and be fully present in the moment—especially when home is also your workplace and school, with no natural off-switch between roles, which is another thing I’m currently analyzing.

As someone who’s always trying new strategies—whether it’s meditation apps, bible study guides, time‑blocking, morning rituals and habit trackers—I am now looking to experiment with different solutions to help me slow down and stay present.

So I’ve been making some changes and I have a couple of things I am going to be trying.

I remembered on my phone that there is a way to set a custom focus mode3 that changes your phone based on certain criteria such as day of week or time of day.

This Sunday will be my first day of utilizing a new Family Focus mode I customized, where I won’t get notifications from 95% of my apps.

Phone calls will be ignored except from my favorites list and a few key people, and 95% of my apps will be blocked—no social media scrolling on Sunday.

I don’t anticipate that it will be easy, but I am giving it a shot and looking forward to what may come out of it.

This has all been a wake-up call.

I’m not just trying to slow down for the sake of being peaceful.

I’m slowing down so I can truly be here—for myself, for others, for the moments that actually matter.

So this is my invitation to you:

Find new ways to slow down.

Speak slower.

Listen longer.

Write more intentionally.

Let the pauses be part of the rhythm.

Unplug.

Be fully present, even when it feels inefficient.

You might find, like I’m starting to, that the very things we’re trying to speed through are the ones we most need to sit with.

If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear about it. Leave a comment or reply to this email—let me know if you have strategies that have worked for you.

If you’re new, consider subscribing below to notified via email to get future reflections, lessons, and real-time updates like this one.

PS: Meet the newest member of the Taylor family.. Jonny.

He is an Eastern Newt that Abel found while hiking and wanted to bring home with us.