A Day for You: Why Moms Need Time Alone (and How to Actually Enjoy It)

Intro: Got a rare day all to yourself? Whether you’re craving rest, adventure, or a little indulgence, here are some fun ways to spend it—without the guilt.

Recently, I took a day off work and I found myself realizing I had a whole day with no commitments. No ball games. No appointments. No family schedule to coordinate. Just me. And do you know what my first thought was? Oh good, I’ll finally catch up on that project…

But here’s the thing: every time I tell myself I’ll spend a free day being “productive,” I end up disappointed. What I’ve learned is this: the best use of a day alone isn’t checking off tasks—it’s removing all demands. Giving myself space. Letting the day unfold with fewer expectations.

So let’s talk about what to actually do with a day that’s all yours.

Step One: Tell Your People

Before you dive into your adventure (or non-adventure), make sure your family knows what you’re doing. Not in a “asking for permission” kind of way—but in a “I’m taking this time for me, and I’d love your support” way. It helps to share what you’re hoping for: “I need a reset, so I’m planning a quiet day with no demands” or “I want to explore and have fun, so I’ll be out and about.” When they understand, it feels less like you’re sneaking away and more like they’re cheering you on. I make sure to let everyone know that I won't be cooking and to make plans for themselves - pizza is usually involved.

Step Two: Decide Your Vibe

Some days call for adventure. Other days call for pajama pants and snacks. Here are a few ideas to spark your imagination:

• Get into nature. Lace up your shoes and go for a hike. If you’re in East Tennessee, House Mountain is a great option—it’s close enough for a half-day trip but feels like a world away. The view from the top is the perfect reminder to breathe deeply. We have many options from hikes, to lakes, to Seven Islands Birding Park.

• Book something indulgent. Schedule that massage, facial, or hair appointment you’ve been putting off. Even a simple shampoo and style can make you feel like a new person.

• Play tourist. Visit a museum, a historical site, or even just a quirky little shop you usually drive past. There’s something fun about wandering with no agenda.

• Veg out. Queue up that series you’ve been dying to watch (you know, the one no one else in your family is interested in). Make yourself comfy and binge guilt-free.

• Dream a little. Unplug for a few hours. Bring a notebook and jot down ideas for the future—not to make a plan, but just to imagine. Sometimes we need space to think about what we want, not just what needs doing.

• Wander and shop. Drive to that part of town you never get to, grab a coffee, and meander through boutiques or antique stores. Let yourself linger without rushing.

• Rest. This may sound simple, but sometimes the bravest choice is to nap in the middle of the day. Rest is productive in its own way.

Step Three: Mix It Up

One of my favorite combinations? A hike and a massage. Move your body, breathe in the fresh air, and then reward yourself with deep relaxation. Or maybe start the morning unplugged with coffee and journaling, then end the day wandering through shops. Think of it like building a menu—you get to pick and choose.

Step Four: Hold Expectations Loosely

Whatever you choose, give yourself permission to shift gears. If you planned to wander shops but instead feel like curling up with a book, that’s fine. If you thought you’d binge a series but find yourself craving sunshine, go outside. The goal isn’t to do it “right.” The goal is to feel renewed and take advantage of having no one else's needs in mind for a day.

The Takeaway

As moms, we’re so used to organizing, planning, and making sure everyone else is cared for that we sometimes forget how to just be. A day alone—whether it’s filled with adventure, pampering, or total relaxation—reminds us that our needs matter too.

So the next time your calendar cracks open a little space, don’t rush to fill it with chores or productivity. Take the day for yourself. Tell your family, choose your vibe, and lean into whatever feels life-giving. You might be surprised how a single day can reset your spirit.

The Gift of Stepping Back - Raising Capable Kids

“Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 1:6 

My youngest just started his senior year, and I can’t help but feel the shift. It’s exciting and bittersweet. And if I’m honest, I’m still fighting the urge to over-mother, even though I’ve technically been “launching” kids for a few years now.

But here’s what I keep learning in this season: When I step back, they step forward. Every single time.

The urge to over-function—doing things for them to make life smoother or safer—is real. But more often than not, that instinct doesn’t serve our kids. In fact, it sends a message I never intended:
“I don’t think you can handle this.”
And that’s not what I believe at all. I believe they’re strong and capable - and watching them prove it has been one of the greatest joys of motherhood.

My 19-year-old daughter recently planned and paid for two incredible trips—one to Hawaii and one to the Bahamas. She researched the details, created a budget, booked everything herself, and pulled it off with confidence. I didn’t lift a finger.

My 21-year-old son just signed a lease for an apartment. He’s managing rent, utilities, and grocery shopping—all on his own. He asks questions when he needs to, but he owns the responsibility, and I couldn’t be more proud.

Even my 17-year-old, who’s juggling a full course load and a job during his senior year, is figuring out time management and discipline. It’s not always perfect, but it’s real growth—and it’s his to own.

Their independence didn’t appear overnight. It started years ago, when we gave them space to try. It looked like letting them walk into unfamiliar rooms and meet new people. It looked like managing a small allowance, saving for things they wanted, paying for their own app subscriptions, and learning to make choices...and sometimes mistakes. Each little experience planted seeds of confidence:
“You are capable.”
“You can do hard things.”

So now, when I feel that old urge to swoop in and solve, I remind myself:
My job isn’t to do it for them—it’s to remind them they can do it themselves.
And if it doesn’t go as planned?

I’m still here. Not to fix, but to be a resource. To listen, brainstorm, offer encouragement, or help them figure out what’s next. That’s the shift in this season: I’m not raising little kids anymore. I’m guiding young adults.

And while there are days I miss being more needed, I wouldn’t trade this for anything. Watching them grow into themselves with courage and responsibility is its own kind of gift.

If you’re in this stage too—watching your kids take steps toward independence, while you quietly step back—you’re not alone. It’s a hard and holy place. It’s parenting in a whole new way.

Letting go is an act of faith. As moms, we’re wired to protect and nurture, but there comes a point when releasing our children is the most loving thing we can do. It’s in those moments of stepping back that we create space for God to step in—to grow them, stretch them, and meet them in their independence.

 

Watching our kids rise to the occasion doesn’t mean we’re no longer needed; it means the seeds we’ve planted are beginning to bloom. We move from directors to cheerleaders, from daily decision-makers to faithful supporters. And that is a beautiful, sacred shift.

Let’s be the kind of moms who trust what has been planted.
Let’s give our kids the gift of believing in them and the space to rise.

Campfire Conversations & Car Talks: Summer reflections on connection, chaos and the gift of just a little more time

It’s that time of summer where the rhythm is a little less structured and a little more sacred. The college kids are home, the high schooler’s got one foot in childhood and one in grown-up territory, and my kitchen feels more like a revolving door than a calm domestic haven.

There are days when it’s a lot—laundry everywhere, the fridge emptying faster than I can restock it, calendars overlapping with summer jobs, church activities, and the endless rhythm of “Who’s coming over? Who’s staying for dinner?” But as much as it boggles my brain, I’m learning to lean in.

Because this season? It’s fleeting.

During the in-between moments—those unscheduled evenings, late-night hangouts, and long car rides—I’m reminded of the gift it is to still be here. Not hovering, not fixing everything, but close enough to listen, to ask, and to simply be present.

These are the days of seeing them take big steps toward independence. Summer jobs aren’t just about staying busy—they’re funding pieces of their dreams: College tuition, a first car, travel plans, savings accounts. They’re learning responsibility, but they’re also learning about their own capabilities. And I get a front-row seat to witness it and cheer for each one.

There are spontaneous coffee runs, random driveway talks, and the golden moments when their friends pile into our living room and laughter fills the house. I’ve learned that making space for their friends—keeping the door open, snacks on hand, and letting the house be loud and full—is one of the most meaningful things I can do for them. Because when their friends feel safe here, my kids feel even more at home.

It’s not always convenient. Sometimes it’s exhausting. I’ve had days where I just want quiet, where I’d love a clean kitchen that stays clean, or a night without anyone asking, “What’s for dinner?” But I’m reminded again and again—this is temporary. This season of a full house, late nights, chaotic calendars, and a refrigerator that never stays closed… it won’t always be like this.

And while it can feel like I’m running a 24-hour diner, I know what I’m really doing is investing. Not just in meals and rides and folding towels, but in connection. In trust. In creating a space where my almost-grown kids can still land safely while they figure out who they’re becoming.

Sometimes the most important conversations happen without a plan—around a campfire, during a walk, or on a long road trip. I’ve learned to welcome the silence just as much as the moments when they open up, because both are valuable. Both are connection.

We’ve traded bedtime stories for conversations about internships, relationships, faith, and adulting. And they still need my voice—not to direct, but to encourage. To remind them they’re not alone. To remind myself that presence is enough.

So I’ll keep making space. I’ll keep offering time, open ears, and a revolving door that creaks from all the comings and goings. Because as much as they’re growing and going, they’re still mine. And I want them to know that home—real, grace-filled home—will always be here for them.

And that’s worth every dish, every late night, every moment of beautiful, midsummer chaos.

What Easter Has Taught Me About Motherhood

Motherhood has a way of bringing you to the end of yourself over and over again. That’s kind of where Easter begins too!

I used to think Easter was mostly about celebration—and it is—but it’s also about surrender, waiting and trusting God with the things you can’t fix or fully understand. Sound familiar, mom?

If I’m honest, I’ve had seasons in motherhood where it felt like something had to die for something new to be born. Not always in a dramatic way, more like a quiet surrender. A letting go. Sometimes it’s been my pride, or my need to be right. Other times, it’s been my expectations of how things “should” go, or how my kids “should” behave or respond. I’ve had to release dreams I had for them that no longer fit who they’re becoming, and all of that is hard.

Easter reminds me that even when it looks like everything’s over—when Friday feels final—a new morning is still coming. God is always at work in the unseen. I may not understand the path my kids are on, but He does. I can’t always see the outcome, but I can trust the One who’s writing their story.

One of the biggest things Easter has taught me is that my children are still becoming who God made them to be. And so am I. That gives me so much peace. I don’t have to be the perfect mom with the perfect plan. I just have to be faithful with what I’ve been given, one day at a time.

That includes making space for forgiveness. I’ve had to offer it more times than I expected—and I’ve had to ask for it, as well. I’ve snapped when I should have listened. I’ve tried to control when I should have trusted. And I’ve carried guilt longer than I needed to, forgetting that the same grace I offer to my kids is available to me too.

And let’s be real—sometimes the “little deaths” of motherhood feel quiet and unseen. The letting go of the way things used to be. The slow fade of a role you once played. The ache of watching them grow more independent while you grow a little more invisible.

But Easter says that death is not the end. In God’s hands, it’s the doorway to something new and better. Something full of life. Something that looks like trust, hope, and love that never quits.

That’s what I’m holding onto. Even when I can’t see the full picture, I know God is working. He’s shaping my kids. He’s shaping me. And He’s doing it in His perfect timing.

So I’ll keep showing up. I’ll keep letting go. I’ll keep trusting Him with every unanswered question and unspoken prayer. Because love—real, steady, resurrection-kind-of-love—always wins in the end.

And that’s what Easter has taught me about motherhood.

The Lasting Joy of Gardening With Your Children

There’s something deeply special about sinking your hands into the soil alongside your children. Gardening is more than planting seeds and pulling weeds, it’s an unspoken language of love, a garden bed filled with quiet conversations, laughter and the tender touch of working the earth together. It’s about more than just flowers and veggies, it’s about roots - both in the soil and in the hearts of those we cherish.

The Bond That Blooms

Gardening offers a gentle rhythm of working together, celebrating small victories and embracing the beauty of each passing season. For young children, digging in the dirt and planting flowers is pure magic and opens their eyes to the wonder of nature. Kids learn patience as they water tiny seedlings, and then joy as they see their efforts transform into bursts of color. 

As they grow, the garden becomes a safe haven, a space where time slows down, even as life speeds up. Maybe your teenager won’t hold your hand anymore, but they’ll still kneel beside you in the soft earth, pressing zinnia seeds into the ground. These hardy, vibrant flowers stand tall and strong, much like the children who plant them. And just like the love poured into them, they keep blooming, a reminder of love that lingers even as seasons change.

One day, my son visiting from college told me, "Mom, when I'm on campus, I notice the flowers and think of you." His words were a reminder that the love we plant stays with them, blooming in unexpected moments, even when they are far from home.

Then comes adulthood, when the garden becomes more than a place, it becomes a memory of your sweet times together. A daughter, now grown, might plant nasturtiums in her own yard, remembering the way their peppery petals made her mother laugh as they tossed them into summer salads. A son, living miles away, might catch the scent of daffodils in the air and be transported back to a crisp autumn day, when small hands helped mom place bulbs into the earth.

The Healing Power of Nature

Beyond the bonds it builds, gardening is deeply healing. Life can be overwhelming and growing up is hard, parenting is hard, letting go is hard. But in the garden, there is peace. The gentle hum of bees, the warmth of the sun on tired shoulders, the cool embrace of soil beneath fingertips give us space to pause and savor the present moment. 

The garden is a place to pause, focus and attend to the rhythmic needs of plants and spaces. The noise and demands of life are turned down in the garden where only the simple tasks are necessary. 

For teenagers navigating the ups and downs of life, the garden offers a quiet escape. It is a place where the world slows, where hands are busy but minds can rest. It teaches them that growth takes time, that beauty emerges even after the coldest winters and that sometimes, all we need is a little light and time to bloom again.

Keep Planting, Keep Loving

Gardening with your children is a love story that never truly ends. It’s a quiet promise, sealed in the soil, carried in the wind, blooming long after hands have let go. So keep planting, keep growing, and cherish every moment spent in the garden together. Because long after the petals fade, the love you’ve sown will keep blooming - in the flowers, in their hearts and in the cherished memories that time can never take away.

Start Your Own Tradition

If you’re a young mom, wondering how to create something lasting with your children, start small. Grab a pack of zinnia or marigold seeds, and press them into the soil with tiny hands beside yours. Watch together as the green shoots break through, as the colors burst open like laughter. One day, when they’re grown, they’ll notice flowers on their own path and think of you. And in that quiet moment, love will bloom again, just as it was planted by you - season after season, heart to heart.