For nearly 8 years, I was a boy mom through and through. The house was filled with Legos and dinosaurs and little boy energy (let’s be honest— still is). I bought the sweatshirt and committed to the role, one I have grown to love and truly enjoy. 

If you were to ask me what I’ve gained simply by hopping off the gram for the past few months, I’d respond with…let me tell you a little bit about life offline lately—

Every year, I fight for less rushing and more rhythm. I resolve to slow the pace and focus on the few things that truly matter—Christ at the forefront. And every year I fall short.

We’ve been coming to this part of the Blue Ridge mountains for the past 11 summers, gradually staying longer each time as it pulls us with an undefinable tug on our hearts, but this will be the first year we’ve spent more time here than in Texas. 

Amidst ukulele lessons and soccer practice and co-op prep and packing for a trip to Colorado, my feed was blowing up with news of Charlie Kirk’s assassination, of a murder on a subway, and of multiple school shootings.

I’ve compiled a little list of ways to be more present at a time when that may feel a little bit frivolous, but also possibly so incredibly freeing. 

I have this image of a hot air balloon in my mind. In this picture, the balloon is upright and lit, and my three kids and husband fill the giant wicker basket ready to take flight, but I am standing outside the balloon holding tightly to the rope.

When I reminiscence on my childhood, I remember holidays with my grandparents. My grandma sitting at the table, chopping vegetables and my mom baking fresh, heaping loaves of zucchini bread.