Anchored Stewardship: A Quiet Philosophy for a Life Well-Lived

In this season where so many doors are opening — new ideas, new ways to create, and the sweet surprise of being able to contribute — it can feel like the sea is rising all around me. The waves of possibility come fast, full of energy and excitement. There’s creativity, the chance to earn, the encouragement of others... and it’s all so good.

But sometimes, even the good things can feel like too much.

It’s easy to get swept up. To lose sight of what I said mattered most. To let the doing take over the being. That’s when I come back to what steadies me — my faith. The unchanging anchor in a sea that’s always shifting. Sometimes it’s calm. Sometimes it’s stormy. But always, my faith pulls me back to solid ground: God first. Marriage next. Family and friendship close behind. That’s the order. That’s the rhythm.

And yet, even with that rhythm in place, I can still feel the pull.

Not always from the outside, but from within — a stirring, a spark.

They don’t always come as loud voices saying “do more, be more.”

Usually, it’s softer than that.

It’s not pressure exactly — it’s possibility.

It’s joy.

It’s the thrill of a new idea, the sparkle of inspiration, the gentle tug of something lovely and full of potential.

And sometimes, I follow.

Until I look up and realize I’m in too deep — pulled away from the quiet, steady shore of what matters most.

This year, I came in with a quiet little philosophy tucked into my heart:

Use it up. Wear it out. Make it Do. Do without.

A reminder to slow down, to steward well. To be grateful for what I have instead of grasping for what I don’t. To take care of the resources — the money, the things, the time, the energy, the relationships — that God has already placed in my hands.

I don’t want to build something that robs me of peace or costs me the people I love. I want to build with intention. With margin. With freedom. Which is why that teaching stuck with me — the one that said the key to financial peace isn’t more income, but less spending. Living below your means, so when things shift (as they do), you’re not bound up in fear.

That spoke to me. Because the goal has never been big. The goal has been faithful.

So here I am, pivoting again. Listening again. Choosing again.

Letting my faith set the pace. Letting my priorities speak louder than the pressure.

And reminding myself — I don’t need to do everything.

Just the right things. At the right time. For the right reasons.

“Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms.” 

— 1 Peter 4:10