Our Story of Home: A Preface Reflection on Keeping PlaceExploring how our hands and hearts mirror God’s homemaking.

Beginning now through the end of the year, I will be reading one book each month related to homemaking or the heart of the homemaker, starting with Keeping Place: Reflections on the Meaning of Home by Jen Pollack Michel. You can see the full list of books I’ll be reading, here

Home. The word hums softly, carrying a gift older than memory. In the Preface, Jen writes:

"Home was one of humanity’s first gifts" (p. 18).

Even as I read it, I feel the weight of that first gift. Home is more than walls and a roof. It is light and life, safety and presence, a place where hearts are nurtured and belong. And in the ordinary rhythm of my days—folding linens, setting a table, stirring a pot—this sacred gift whispers back.

"Every vocation is an act of homemaking and housekeeping 
because we are made in the image of a homemaking God" (p. 19).

These words settle over me like gentle rain. They remind me that the care I offer in the small corners of my life is not small at all. Each gesture of attention, each patient act, mirrors the God who arranges, who tends, who restores. To live faithfully in our homes, to tend them with love, is to reflect the divine character itself.

Michel continues:

"What happens from Genesis to Revelation can be told as a home story. — God makes a home. 
— Sinners take leave. — The Father bids our return" (pp. 18–19).

The story of the world, I realize, is a story of homecoming. God sets the rooms, fills them with light, offers a dwelling. Humanity wanders. And yet the Father’s call is never silenced. He bids us return, restoring the home, making space once more for love and belonging. Every quiet act of care, every attentive moment, is part of that eternal story.

❊ Reflection Prompts:
Read the three quotes above slowly, pausing after each one to consider the following:

❊  How can I recognize and receive the gift of my home today—not just as a space, but as a place of presence, nurture, and welcome?

❊  In what ways can the work I do—whether folding, stirring, writing, or listening—reflect God’s care and attention, bringing a piece of heaven into my ordinary day?

❊  How might my daily rhythms, my small acts of hospitality and care, participate in God’s story of welcome and restoration, inviting others to dwell and return?

As we pause with these questions, the quiet truth settles in: holiness is woven into the ordinary. Each act of care, each moment of attention, each patient gesture is part of God’s work of restoring home—our first gift, our vocation, our story, and always, our welcome back.

If you’d like to read along, you can purchase a paperback copy of the book here, or, if you prefer, it’s also available instantly on Kindle. If your local library offers Hoopla, you can access it there as an audiobook. If you do decide to read along, I’d love to hear your thoughts—just leave them in the comments!

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Wrapped in Words: Writing as a Gift

I’ve always appreciated the beauty of a perfectly wrapped gift. Growing up, Christmas morning was always exciting, not only because I knew Santa had left me gifts, but because of the care he had taken in wrapping them. I was shocked to learn that, for many of my friends, their gifts were unwrapped — simply placed beneath the tree, without thought or attention. But for me, the wrapping, the hiddenness, the quiet anticipation was all part of the gift itself.

Like a beautifully wrapped gift, this is the way I envision every post I write. The meaning is folded carefully, tucked into layers that ask the reader to linger, to notice, to unfold slowly. Each phrase, each turn of sentence, is an invitation to discover the subtlety beneath the surface. The delight comes not from being handed everything at once, but from the quiet reveal — the treasure that is held just long enough to be savored.

This is why I don’t care about SEO. Keywords, algorithms, optimized headlines — they are like gifts placed beneath the tree without care: no wrapping, no pause, no anticipation. They may bring numbers, but they cannot teach the heart to slow down, to notice, to savor.

Like unwrapping a gift on Christmas morning, the gift of this space is the slow discovery — in the quiet attention we give to words, to moments, to the hidden beauty that asks to be noticed. Here, meaning is not rushed or delivered at once; it arrives gently, lingering in the heart, leaving a sense of quiet delight long after the page is closed.

If you are here, reading these words, that tells me something: you notice. You linger. You understand that beauty, like contentment, cannot be rushed. You are someone special.

So, thank you for being here — for slowing down, for noticing, for taking the time to seek and value writing that reflects thoughtful care, for wanting more than catchy phrases or bullet-pointed lists, for lingering with words that invite reflection and presence. Your attention turns this space into a shared gift, one that is richer because you are part of it.

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A Holy Reordering: Recovering Peace Room by Room – The Hidden Foundation of the Homemaker’s Heart

Before a single surface is touched, we enter the first room. It is unseen, it has no square footage, yet everything in the house flows from it.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”

— Psalm 51:10

David did not begin with external reform. He began with inner renewal.

As homemakers, especially those seeking a faith-filled home, we are often overstimulated, overextended, and quietly anxious. We manage schedules, meals, conversations, digital input, expectations — both spoken and unspoken. And without realizing it, we carry that internal noise into the rooms we inhabit.

A hurried heart produces a hurried home.
A resentful spirit creates tension in the smallest exchanges.
An anxious mind makes even orderly spaces feel unsettled.

We cannot scrub our way into peace. We must receive it — and then steward it.

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”

— Proverbs 4:23

Everything flows from it.

The tone of your voice in the morning.
The way you respond to interruption.
The patience you extend at the end of a long day.

The home is an overflow. A peaceful home is the outward reflection of spiritual renewal.

This is why Lent invites examination. Not condemnation — examination. A gentle asking:

Where has clutter gathered quietly in me?
What emotional residue have I not addressed?
Where am I striving instead of abiding?

The 17th-century bishop Francis de Sales counseled:

“Have patience with all things, but first of all with yourself.”

A holy reordering begins with that patience.

❊ Today’s Lenten Home Reset Practice

Choose one small area — a drawer, a corner, a basket — and tend to it slowly. As you do, pray Psalm 51:10 softly. Let the physical act mirror the spiritual invitation.

Not frantic purging.
Not performative productivity.
Just alignment.

You might whisper:

“As this space is cleared, clear what does not belong in me.”

Because the goal is not an immaculate house. It is a settled spirit. When the heart is steadied, even modest spaces feel like refuge. When the inner room is tended, the outer rooms begin to follow naturally — not from pressure, but from peace.

So before the day gathers speed, begin here.

Stand quietly in that unseen room.
Let the Spirit name what has been crowding your interior space.
Receive mercy where you expected pressure.

This is the real beginning.

Not a reset that lasts a weekend.
Not a burst of motivation.
But a reorientation.

If the heart is tended, the home will follow.

Join me next Monday as we continue our Lenten homemaking series and turn our attention to The Kitchen — the place of nourishment, conversation, and daily offering. Together, we will explore how Christian homemaking rhythms in this space shape not only our meals, but our hearts, and how ordinary tasks can become acts of faith-filled home stewardship.

Until then, begin with one quiet act of order. Clear it slowly. Pray honestly. Guard your heart.

This is where we begin.

Room by room.

Heart first.

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Ordinary Days of Small Things Spring Day KeeperRevised and Updated!

Many years ago, I began creating seasonal planners as a way to be more intentional about making lasting memories with my family. Over time, these planners evolved into what I now call Day Keepers. Each Day Keeper follows the natural rhythm of the four seasons — beginning in Spring with (March, April, May) continuing through Summer (June, July, August), Autumn (September, October, November), and Winter (December, January, February).

Rather than following the calendar year, I chose to begin each Day Keeper in the Spring, a season of fresh starts, new beginnings, and the planting of seeds — both literal and metaphorical. The year then flows naturally through each season, ending in Winter — a time for rest, reflection, and restorative peace. This cycle mirrors the rhythm of life itself, giving space for growth, change, and renewal.

Over time, I began offering the Day Keepers here on my blog, and they quickly became a popular resource for those looking to live more intentionally and savor life’s everyday moments. It has been a few years since I last shared them, but this year felt right to give them a fresh update and bring them back for you.

I have always made these planners available free of charge, and I will continue to do so this year. However, as much of the content is now being reframed and expanded for my upcoming book, What We Keep: Making Time For What Truly Matters, this will be the last year the Day Keepers are available free of charge. In the future, they will likely be offered as a companion piece to the book. So for now, this is your last opportunity to download them without cost.

If you’ve been longing for a way to live more intentionally, make lasting memories, and follow the natural rhythm of the seasons, I invite you to download your Day Keeper today and begin your year with intention.

Download the The Spring Day Keeper Here

Download the Spring Quarter 2026 Calendars Here

Download the Spring Phenology Wheels Here

Print one phenology wheel for each month and record daily moon phase, weather, sunrise and sunset, high and low temperature, sketch flora and fauna and anything native to your location. The possibilities are endless!

May this planner guide you in noticing what matters, celebrating the small moments, and carrying intention into every day of your year.

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