Daybook
Giving Thanks-
I am thankful for family that misses us when we’re gone and gathers close when we return. There is something deeply comforting about knowing that our absence is felt and our presence is welcomed back with eagerness. It reminds me that what we’re building here—this life, this table, these rhythms—matters.
I am also thankful for the kind of decisions that take time. I am someone who can vacillate, who can see too many angles and change direction more than I’d like. The space between decision and action has been refining. It forces me to slow down, to notice what really matters, and to pay attention to what aligns with our priorities.
And I am thankful for what the Lord is doing in our family. We began a simple Bible study just for us. I wasn’t sure what it would look like or how it would unfold, but I trust Jesus to do what only He can do. And quietly, gently, it seems to be going well.
Outside My Window-
Spring is trying. The grass was more than ready to be trimmed when we got home—begging, really—but the mower had other plans. The grapes, blackberries, blueberries, and raspberries are budding, and that feels like enough for now. I didn’t start seeds this year, and I’m not going to pretend I can catch up. This season will be simpler in the garden, and that’s alright.
Clothing Myself In-
A steadiness I don’t always feel, but continue to choose. A willingness to do what’s in front of me without overcomplicating it. A reminder that I don’t have to solve everything at once.
In the Kitchen-
The refrigerators are… too much. Truly. Too full, too stuffed, too neglected. It’s frustrating because it’s wasteful, and I know better. We all do. Today will be a clean-out day before trash pickup, and I’m determined to reset things.
On the brighter side, we are overflowing with eggs. Chickens are laying everywhere. Sarah said hers are producing about two dozen a day, and we were sent home with what feels like an endless supply—eight or nine dozen from Iowa, plus more from Christina. They will not go to waste.
We also managed to pull together a sweet Easter brunch for the family, complete with our annual egg hunt—thanks to Aunt Rachel, who always makes it special.
Writing-
I am here, even when I don’t feel like I have the stamina for it. That counts.
Reading-
Rachel and I listened to The Assassin’s Blade on Audible during our drive to and from camp. It was good—good enough that I’ll likely continue the series.
But first, I have something more important waiting. My daughter has asked me to read the first chapter of her manuscript. That should come before anything else.
Watching-
The Originals. It’s comfort food at the end of long days. By the time we sit down at night, I’m usually too tired to care what’s on. I hope that changes soon, but for now, simple is fine.
Listening-
All the familiar favorites. Brandon Lake has new music out, and we always come back to his songs.
Making-
Plans, mostly. We are waiting to hear from the shed builder about pricing and delivery for what will become our kitchen shed at camp. If all goes well, we’ll head back in a couple of weeks to get it set and begin finishing it—wiring, insulation, walls, floors, ceiling.
It’s a lot, but these guys work hard, and starting from scratch gives us a clean path forward. I’ll also need to coordinate with Rich about a split unit once we know timing. There are details to think through, but it’s moving.
Camp-
Our work week at camp was both successful and exhausting. We left a day early on purpose, choosing to break up the drive in a way that made the second day easier than the first. We’re learning where to stop, where to rest, what works best in both directions.
The Fairfield Inn in Lexington was a really good stop—comfortable, clean, and exactly what we needed.
Home-
Coming home always tells the truth.
Sarah did a wonderful job keeping the main spaces clean and tidy while we were gone, but it’s the hidden places that build up—the ones I notice. No one is to blame. It’s simply the math of a full house.
Five people living here (and sometimes four grandchildren). If each person uses just two things a day and doesn’t return them, that’s eighteen things out of place in one day. Let that go for a week or two, and it becomes overwhelming.
My energy isn’t what it used to be. I’m tired of constantly putting things back, and I don’t want to become someone who barks orders just to keep up. That’s not who I am. But the frustration is real.
I want a home that feels calm. Comfortable. Peaceful. Quiet—not just in sound, but in what the eyes take in. Visual noise wears on me just as much as actual noise.
So we begin again. Resetting. Reclaiming space—especially in the basement, where we’re storing the kids’ beds to make room for gathering when cousins are here.
Outside Work (or Real Life, as it feels some days)-
The mower situation was something. The main mower needed charging, but the trickle charger was still at camp. I bought a new one, let it charge overnight, and got it started the next day—only to have it die every time I lowered the blade.
So I used the little rechargeable push mower.
And honestly? I was surprised. It handled the most important parts just fine. Not perfect, but enough. The rest—trimming, finishing—will wait.
The Week Ahead-
Cleaning out refrigerators.
Continuing to reclaim the house.
Watching Rachel settle into her new job—her first day was yesterday. It’s a big adjustment, a shift in freedom and rhythm, and she’s feeling that. But I believe she’s going to do very well once she finds her footing.
John and I had a quiet evening out at a local distillery this week—such a beautiful space, with an incredible ballroom. It felt good to step out together, even briefly.
And then, likely, we’ll begin preparing to head back to camp again soon.
Closing Thought-
There is a lot right now. A lot of good. A lot of work. A lot of things asking for attention.
But not everything has to be done at once.
Just the next right thing.
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