The Home Stretch and Finish Line!

My “baby” finished high school last semester.

Not with a big ceremony or a last walk through crowded hallways, but quietly. His classes wrapped up, his books closed, and just like that, the rhythm of high school ended in our home. He’ll still walk in graduation ceremonies in May, but in so many ways, this season has already turned.

And now month, he just turned eighteen.

In 2026, our oldest is getting married, and our youngest is graduating high school. Somehow, all at once, I’m closing one chapter and opening another. My motherhood journey has gently, and quickly, shifted into the season of coaching young adults.

These days, my son’s life looks different than it used to. He’s working to save for college. He’s studying to improve his ACT score. He’s practicing percussion with focus as he prepares to audition for collegiate marching band. There’s a steady purpose about him lately, less little boy, more young man with a sense of purpose and direction.

It feels like the final lap of a race I’ve been running for twenty-two years.

For a long time, motherhood meant hands-on everything. Daily direction. Monitoring schedules. Checking homework. Managing rides, meals, bedtimes, and boundaries. I built worlds for my kids and invited them to live inside them, safe and structured and centered around our family rhythm.

Now the work looks different.

My kids haven’t all moved out of the house, but they have clearly built worlds beyond the ones I created for them. Their friendships, jobs, callings, schedules, and dreams stretch farther than my reach ever could. And with that comes a gentle, but absolute shift in my role.

I’m moving from hands-on mothering to hands-up cheering.
From daily directing to daily connecting.
From monitoring to guiding by invitation.

Instead of managing every step, I get to walk beside them, listen first, pray more, and speak when invited. It’s less about control and more about trust. Trusting the God who loves them even more than I do, and trusting the seeds planted along the way.

This season of motherhood has been mostly beautiful. The role changes with each child, because hearts are different.

One child thrives on affection and responds best to a whispered correction. Another needs space where too much structure feels stifling. In the same home, with the same parents, souls can need completely different approaches. And over the years, we’ve learned together how to love well.

Along the way, I’ve been too harsh sometimes.
Too lenient other times.
Too isolating.
Too inconsistent.

But in every season, I did the very best I knew how to do with what God placed in my hands at the time.

I carry a peaceful hope that love and connection will outweigh my mistakes. I want each of my kids to know I am a safe place, to fall apart, to laugh too hard, to ask hard questions, or to celebrate any accomplishment, big or small. I want them to know there isn’t only one “right” path. That God unfolds plans as we walk, not before we move. 

One of my favorite ways to talk about the future is simple:
Take a step in a direction and allow God to guide.

Scripture says, “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps” (Proverbs 16:9). We don’t need the whole map, just faith for the next step.

And lately, I’ve been watching my final guy take his.

There’s something tender about this last one moving into his next season. I find myself soaking in the glow of watching him move forward with discipline, humility, determination and hope.

I will always treasure the days when their hearts were all mine, the scraped knees, bedtime prayers, carpool talks, and the sweet simplicity of small hands wrapped in mine. Those moments shaped me as much as they shaped them.

But today, I’m also content with where we’ve arrived.

I’m excited about doing life with grown kids. About travel and shared adventures. About coffee dates, cheering sections, and spontaneous plans. About supporting their dreams without carrying their backpacks. About staying connected, not because they need me to manage their lives, but because they want me in them.

As I watch my baby finish his final lap of childhood, I see clearly now, this isn’t an ending. It’s a handoff. From mothering children to walking alongside emerging adults, cheering just as loudly, praying just as fiercely, and loving just as deeply.

I've still got big moments like prom and graduation ceremony just ahead, so there are moments left to mark these final days. The race looks different now, yes. But we will always be running together! 

Granny Hobbies Your Kids WillLove on a Cold Day

Granny Hobbies Your Kids Will Love on a Cold Day

Apparently, our kids and teens are officially cool with doing things that look suspiciously like what our dear grandmothers may have loved.

There is a growing trend among young people to embrace what the internet now calls “granny hobbies.” Knitting, baking, gardening, sewing, journaling. Slow, cozy, hands-on activities that feel calming instead of chaotic. Country artist Emily Ann Roberts even hosts knitting groups, and yes, pop culture royalty is in on it too. Taylor Swift has shared about making sourdough bread when she is home. If it works for her, it can work for my kitchen on a freezing Thursday afternoon.

Why the shift? Because these crafts offer something screens cannot. They give kids sensory satisfaction and real world focus. They provide a mental break from constant digital input. In a world full of notifications, scrolling, and group chats, granny hobbies invite quiet productivity. Kids use their hands, their creativity, and their patience while their minds get a rest.

A movie and popcorn are always fun, but when the cold keeps everyone inside and the walls start feeling closer, these screen-free ideas can turn a long day into a meaningful one.

First, baking. Baking is basically science class with sugar. Let kids measure, pour, stir, and sample. Start with muffins, cookies, banana bread, or homemade pizza dough. Everyone gets a job, and suddenly the kitchen smells like comfort and cooperation. Recently my own 17-year-old started sourdough from scratch and let the concoction mature in his room and then he baked his first loaf! We are all loving it!

Sourdough bread sounds fancy, but kids love the process. There is something magical about feeding a starter and watching dough grow. Let them name it, mix it, shape it, and watch it bake. It teaches patience and responsibility, and if the loaf is imperfect, butter fixes almost everything.

Crochet or knitting feels very granny, but kids are surprisingly drawn to it. Start with finger knitting or chunky yarn and big hooks. Scarves, headbands, or doll blankets work well. It is quiet, focused work that keeps hands busy and minds calm.

Button crafts are another simple win. Grab a jar of buttons and some cardboard or frames. Kids can make mosaics, jewelry, name art, or decorate keepsakes. Sorting, designing, and gluing tiny things feels creative without overwhelming the house.

Fairy gardens in a terrarium add a little wonder to the day. Use a glass jar, soil, moss, pebbles, and tiny figures. Let kids design paths, houses, ponds, and secret corners. Once it is done, they tend to check on their tiny world like responsible landlords. Add these pod creatures for an prehistoric vibe.

And when creativity starts fading, bring out the secret weapon. A complicated Lego set. Not the toddler kind, the big box that looks slightly intimidating. Even our teenagers still love it. They just pretend they do not at first. Then they are on the floor for two hours sorting pieces and solving problems. Legos build focus, patience, teamwork, and give kids something tangible to be proud of when the last brick clicks into place.

What I love most about these slow hobbies is what they do for us moms too. They invite us to pause and to sit instead of rush. To notice flour on noses, yarn on the couch, quiet conversations, and the gift of being together in the same space. Every season of motherhood looks different, but being indoors with our kids has always been part of it, whether they are toddlers underfoot or teenagers pretending they are too cool for crafts.

Sometimes God uses ordinary days to grow something steady in us. A loaf of bread, a knitted row, a Lego tower, a tiny fairy garden. None of it is flashy, but all of it is forming hearts, patience, and connection.

So yes, enjoy the movie and popcorn. But when winter traps us all inside, try a little granny wisdom. You might be surprised what your kids fall in love with, and what your own heart settles into while they do.

When Christmas Comes with Grief

This year, Christmas comes wrapped in both joy and ache.

Just a few weeks ago, our family lost my mother-in-law so suddenly and unexpectedly that it still doesn’t feel real. Even though we lived in different cities and weren’t together all the time, her presence was a constant thread in our lives. She was the one who kept the family connected, checking in, planning the gatherings, making sure everyone was thought of and included. She’s the one with the cherished Hello Dolly recipe and the Christmas candy that appeared like clockwork each December. She was the one who made the lists, organized the schedules, and reminded us what really mattered.

Now, her absence feels like a quiet echo in all of our familiar plans. We’re facing Thanksgiving, her birthday, and Christmas without her, and there’s no pretending that it’s easy. But I’m learning that grief doesn’t cancel out celebration. It just changes it.

The lights still sparkle. The music still plays. The cookies still bake. But underneath all of it, there’s a tenderness, a reminder that love leaves a mark deeper than loss. Every tradition, every memory, every recipe passed down feels like a gift she left behind. And while they bring tears at times, they also bring comfort.

I’ve realized that those pangs of sadness are just proof of how deeply she loved and how much she was loved in return. The memories that come when I catch myself hearing her laughter or picturing her focus on a Scrabble game aren’t painful reminders of what’s gone. They’re gentle evidence of the gift she was to all of us.

This December, I find myself doing things she once did. Reaching out to family to find out when we can gather. Making space at our table for dad, hoping to give him a change of scenery during the days he’ll miss her most. Pulling out her recipes, even though no one can quite make them the way she did. And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I can feel her influence, the legacy of a woman whose faith and love still shape our family, even now.

Christmas doesn’t drive away sadness, but it makes room for it, alongside hope, gratitude, and even joy. The story at the heart of this season, of God stepping into our world and light entering darkness, reminds me that grief and celebration can coexist. That love doesn’t end, and that faith continues to carry us forward.

So, as we hang ornaments and light candles, we’ll do so with full hearts, thankful for the years we had, the lessons she left us, and the chance to carry her spirit into the generations that follow.

Her touch is still here, just in new ways — in the laughter around our table, in the quiet prayers we whisper for one another, in the way we keep showing up for family, just like she taught us to.

And maybe that’s the beautiful mystery of this season: that even in grief, we find comfort; even in absence, we find presence; and even in loss, we find love that endures.

Teaser: This Christmas looks different. As our family walks through grief, we’re learning that sorrow and celebration can share the same season — and that love, once given, doesn’t fade with time.

Finding the Heart of a Holiday Movie at Home - the Real Hallmark of Christmas

There’s something about Christmas that touches a longing deep in within us. Every year, we wait for it—the flicker of candles, the scent of pine, the sound of laughter drifting through the house. For a few fleeting weeks, the world feels softer, more beautiful, more possible.

Maybe that’s why we love Hallmark movies so much. By the end, the problems are solved, the people find connection, and light breaks through the shadows. Along the way we glimpse nostalgic décor, cozy sweaters, and snowflakes that never seem to melt ... along with women who have perfect hairstyles that survive any weather condition and men who actually wear winter scarves. We watch as strangers become friends and hope is restored in some small-town main street where everything seems just right.

It isn’t our normal world, and that’s exactly why we’re drawn to it. Deep down, we all long for the same kind of redemption—to see the broken made whole, the lonely find belonging, and the weary find peace.

That longing is what Christmas is really about. It’s the story of Christ stepping into our darkness to bring light, to set right what has gone wrong, and to offer salvation to every heart that will receive it. The truest miracle of Christmas isn’t found in the perfect movie ending, but in the reality of God’s love coming near—in a manger, under starlight, in the most humble of places.

I think that’s why I find so much joy in creating a Christmas movie atmosphere at home. It’s my small way of reflecting that light and hope into my own space.

I get to visit Kansas City this November—the home of Hallmark—I can’t help but think about how this company has shaped how we feel about the season. And yet, for me, it all circles back to something much simpler: home, memory, and meaning.

My first Christmas on my own, in a tiny apartment as a single woman, I bought a stunning sleigh ride figurine. It sat on my table surrounded by twinkle lights, a reminder that beauty and hope could still exist in quiet and humble places, like a single gal's new apartment. Nearly thirty years later, that same figurine still comes out every December. And shockingly, I found the exact same piece at our local KARM thrift store just this season! I bought it for my daughter. I want her to have a bit of that same magic, that same reminder that joy can last through the years.

There are the ornaments too, the ones that have hung on our tree since “Baby’s First Christmas.” Some are handmade, some chipped, all loved. Each carries a story, a moment, a piece of our family’s journey. They are far from coordinated, but together, they are perfect.

Some people begin decorating the moment November arrives, others wait until after Thanksgiving. I tend to start when time and mood allow—placing greenery in mid-November, hanging lights on a warm weekend, adding touches of red as the days grow shorter. The tree often goes up before Thanksgiving, but we save the ornaments and finishing touches for afterward, turning that weekend into a cherished ritual of unboxing memories and stringing lights.

My home may never look like a curated aesthetic. It’s not the latest style or a picture-perfect Hallmark set. But in the soft glow of evening, surrounded by the treasures of Christmas past and the memories of those I love, it feels sacred.

So whether you live in an apartment, a cramped home, or a sprawling empty nest, you can still create that spark of Christmas magic within your own walls. No matter if your home glitters with gold or whispers with natural greens, let it reflect your story. The magic of Christmas isn’t in perfection, it's in honoring your stories and your loves, especially those with whom you celebrate. 

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

— John 1:5

Stuck in the Middle - With You!

Somewhere between raising teens and caring for parents, between college bills and retirement dreams — we find ourselves in the middle.

There’s a line from that old song that plays in my head more often these days: “... here I am, stuck in the middle with you.”

Middle. That’s where so many of us find ourselves — somewhere between carpool lines and college tours, between our teens’ independence and our parents’ growing dependence. It’s a strange tension, this middle season. One moment you’re coaching your son through ACT prep, and the next you’re helping your mom sort through medical bills. You’re celebrating a child’s first taste of adulthood while trying to manage your own creeping awareness of time passing — and your knees reminding you that they are, in fact, not 25 anymore.

Financially, it can feel just as tight. College tuition meets retirement planning somewhere in the middle of your bank account, and neither one wants to budge. You start to realize that “someday” planning isn’t theoretical anymore — it’s now. The juggling act between helping your kids launch well and preparing yourself (and maybe your parents) for what’s ahead can leave you feeling stretched, tired, and guilty that you can’t do it all perfectly.

But here’s the truth: you’re not meant to do it all. And you’re certainly not meant to do it alone.

In the middle, we learn to lean. To ask for help. To accept that caring for others means caring for ourselves, too — because burnout doesn’t serve anyone. That might look like carving out time for a walk, scheduling your own doctor’s appointments instead of pushing them off, or saying no to one more obligation so you can actually rest.

Taking care of your aging self isn’t selfish; it’s stewardship. You’re modeling for your kids what it looks like to prioritize health, balance, and faithfulness in every season. You’re showing them that strength isn’t about holding everything together — it’s about holding on to what truly matters.

And in all of it — the uncertainty, the exhaustion, the in-between — God is there. The middle may feel messy, but it’s not without meaning. Scripture reminds us, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight” (Proverbs 3:5–6).

We may not see how the pieces fit together — the parenting, the caretaking, the finances, the plans — but God does. He’s already ahead of us, preparing what’s next. Our role is to trust Him in the tension and rest in the truth that He’s faithful in every stage of life.

So maybe being “stuck in the middle” isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe it’s the sacred space where we learn to depend more deeply on God, to laugh at life’s absurdities, and to discover a deeper joy in walking this middle road together — hand in hand with Him.

Here’s to all of us in the middle — still learning, still loving, still trusting, and still finding our way. We can’t see what’s coming around the next curve, but we can breathe, trust, and enjoy the drive.

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.