Rooted in Home
Welcome to this little corner of the internet. I am so glad you are here and can’t wait to see what this space becomes. I am hoping it can feel like a reminder of why home is so beautiful.
This is just the beginning of my desire to dive deep into storytelling. Of my story and yours, to encourage each other of the good, beautiful, messy and unique journey of motherhood. So let’s dive right in.
Home. What does that mean to you when I say that word? We could think of the brick and mortar definition but I want to go deeper. Home is the place and people where you are fully known and the place and people you know fully. Each person has a different understanding of home, but I believe when we hear the word, it is something we all long for.
Home is just the daily rhythm. Morning sunshine and kids bouncing out of bed. The mess that piles up because we’re living. The slow wind-down at night — dinner, baths, lights dimmed — and that deep breath when the house finally gets quiet. And then we wake up and do it again.
Home is alive because of the life that unfolds inside it. Not polished or posed — just real. The giggles, the sighs, the “try again” moments. The little piles that gather because life is moving. Meals, naps, conversations, all the everyday things. It all happens in real time. And I think that’s what makes it beautiful.
And I think there’s a shift happening — I feel it in myself, and I sense it in others too. A slowing down. A noticing. Rooting ourselves at home. Before kids, I was the person always on the go, hardly home, using my house as more of a launch pad than a place to land. But now, home is where my life actually happens. It’s where I am being shaped and formed into who I’m becoming.
My heart is to help you really see your home. Not just as a place you live, but as a place that lives in you. Because the rhythms we practice here: the way we move, love, rest, and gather. That is the stuff that sticks with us. So I wonder- how is your home shaping you right now? And who might you be because of the life you lived within your walls?
The story you’ll tell years from now in your home is being lived right now — and it’s the small things that shape it. Nostalgia is really just remembering the tiny details of the past that turned out to really matter. The picture books read on repeat, pancakes every Saturday morning, the way the summer evenings just have a smell of sweetness to them. When we look back on our own childhoods, even in seasons that held both joy and hardship, it’s the little things we often miss the most.
I’ll be honest, I really thought having kids would just automatically slow me down. I pictured myself moving through the day with this gentle pace, like the shift would just happen on its own. But it didn’t. Not right away, at least. It’s taken a slow unraveling in me of learning how to be okay in the ordinary, how to settle into what I used to call boring.
Maybe you’ve felt that too.
It’s not about forcing slowness or trying to create some perfect peaceful life. It’s more like noticing what’s already here. Letting the everyday be enough. Letting home be the place where life is actually happening, instead of something I’m rushing past on my way to something else.
You're not alone if you feel like you want it all to slow down but also have a hard time slowing down yourself. Here are some things I have been praying through and I hope it encourages you too.
What’s one tiny thing your kids (or you) are doing right now that you know you’ll miss someday, even if it feels chaotic or tiring today?
Is there a small rhythm (morning coffee, the same song at nap time, stepping out on the porch at night) that’s quietly holding your days together?
Is there a part of your day that feels rushed that might actually be sweeter if it was just a touch slower?
I’m encouraged by the mutuality of this… so many of us feel the same tension. Wanting to settle into slow, yet also watching life move so quickly that we almost can’t catch it. When we choose to stay in the ordinary places of our home, it can feel uncomfortable at first. It pulls on the strings of contentment. It asks us to remember that meaning doesn’t come from chasing.
So I want to leave you with a benediction of sorts over your home and your rhythms:
May your home be a place where you learn to slow down, hold onto the small things, and trust that it is enough.
