I have noticed, as I’m sure you may have as well, over the course of the past several years a decided downtick in the quality of well, everything, coupled with a blasé attitude to match.

Like many mothers of young children with various nap and school run schedules, I have acquiesced almost entirely to grocery delivery to meet our family’s pantry-and-fridge-stocking needs.

Yet, nearly without fail, food arrives spoiled, missing, damaged or all of the above. Just last week, I received less than half of the food I had ordered on my doorstep and when I inquired the twenty-something shopper replied “O, wut r u missing?”

Oh nothing, sweet child, just the milk and the bread and my hope for the next generation.

In another instance, earlier this year I had purchased tickets via a reputable third party site for my daughter and husband to see a musical together and the tickets I received were for the complete wrong time. The company and the seller of the ticket both offered up half-hearted apologies with an inconvenient and unacceptable solution leaving me scrambling and shelling out more money so as to not disappoint an eager eight year-old who had been anticipating this date with her daddy for months.

These, and other little inconveniences in life are, of course, to be expected in a broken world and are in the grand scheme of things just not that big of a deal. There are far, far greater trials, challenges and issues to be concerned with and in prayer over. After all, we all make mistakes. We are all careless at times.

However…the fact that we have come to expected poor quality from brands, poor customer service from companies, poor manners at restaurants, poor dressing in airports (to go with the poor treatment of passengers from airline staff), poor conduct online and an up-and-coming generation many of whom can literally not make eye contact or carry on an adult conversation is indicative of a societal rot—a collective lack of care, attention to detail and pursuit of excellence.

And it has leaked into our parenting, too.

The absurdity of hot mess mom culture aside, we love to tell mothers and fathers that they are just doing their best. But sometimes, maybe many times…they are not. We are not. I certainly am not.

But our inevitable, very human falling short should not be perceived as a “Get Out of Trying Free” card.

And excellence in parenting is, above most things, something worth striving for.

Though it might erode our nervous systems to hear it, the stakes in child rearing are high and we should at the very least try our very best.

You know, “whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.” (Col. 3:23)

One of a handful of books I try to re-read each year is The Duties of Parents by J.C. Ryle. Ryle was a British Anglican bishop of the evangelical persuasion and lays out in this short book—booklet or pamphlet, really—seventeen duties of parents in a straightforward, economical, no-nonsense manner that the busy modern parent with squeezed margins will appreciate.

We know that children typically behave best when they know and understand what is expected of them, I think for the parent it is no different. Ryle helps us as mothers and fathers see in a biblical context just what is ours to do in parenting and what is not. He encourages, challenges, admonishes parents to perform their duty to their children with excellence, not perfection.

And yet, Ryle doesn’t mince words, writing (in one version that is updated to modern English):

We depend, in a vast measure, on those who bring us up. We get from them a colour, a taste, a bias which clings to us, more or less, for the rest of our lives. We catch the language of our parents and those that look after us, and we learn to speak it almost without thinking about and questioning it. We catch something of their manners, ways and attitudes….

….And all this is one of God’s merciful arrangements. He gives our children a mind that will receive impressions like wet clay. He gives them a disposition at the starting point of their lives to believe what we tell them, to take for grated what we advise them, and to trust our word rather than a stranger’s. He gives us, in short, a golden opportunity for doing them good. Therefore, make sure that the opportunity is not missed and thrown away. Once let slip, it is gone for ever.

The stakes are, indeed, high, and so our striving for excellence as parents is a worthwhile pursuit, but as Ryle also reminds the parent:

God never laid a command on us which He would not then give us grace to perform…We have only to do as the servants were commanded at the marriage feast in Cana: to fill the water pots with ware, and then we may safely leave it to Jesus to turn that water into wine.

You can order a hard copy here, or find it free of charge online.

And now, onto our round up…

On the top of my (forever growing) bedside stack: Spring by Michael Morpurgo and the new Lilias Trotter biography, If Only We Could See by …

…followed by these two classics on angels and community.

Loved reading ’s evocative, poignant words on Eastertide.

A beautiful Eastertide book for you and one for them, too.

Bookmarking these 10 Nostalgic Easter Recipes That’ll Take You Back to Grandma’s Table for next year…or maybe next weekend?

This was a lovely, thoughtful reflection worth reading from

I’ve been eyeing these (sold out) gardening overalls, when my dear friend (hi, Susan!!) sent me this cute pair which get the job done at a fraction of the price.

How to feed your kid like a 90’s mom by at

A refreshingly earnest account of pregnancy, motherhood, loss and hope from .

Things to Do with Kids (From My Mom's 1975 Junior League Cookbook) by at

Loved this take from of on marking rites of passage in the family....

…and speaking of, here are my favorite journals for recording them all (their new “keepcase” is adorable, too).

I put these in the kids’ Easter baskets (along with these cross bracelets that would be great for a VBS or kids camp) and they are like cleaner, more durable, not as razor sharp pipe cleaners perfect for eternally crafting kids like mine.

What Is a Forever Home? by Steele Marcoux at Veranda — I’m encouraged to see a leading home design publication leaning into the concept of longevity and legacy in homes versus the churn and burn cycle of unsustainable “what’s in, what’s out” fleeting design trends.

We just watched this documentary with architect Gil Schafer on Unlocking the Mysteries of Place is a fascinating look into his brilliant classically-inspired design mind.

called out ’s new collection for Olive Ateliers and it’s perfect (also check out their Mother’s Day Gift Guide…so good)

Making this immediately when we move back into our home to break in the new range.

Until next time!

(We) always,

Julie

Happy Laetare Sunday! Meaning rejoice! in Latin, this day marks a turning point in our Lenten season, a rose-hued mini-feast in the long journey toward Eastertide. Like the weather (at least here in Virginia) there is the slightest hint of the coming joy of spring, even as our alleluia remains restrained and we continue to reach for winter coats for early morning school drop-offs.

In England, today is also Mothering Sunday (you should have been my husband’s face when I asked him this morning what we got me for British Mother’s Day…dear reader, it was priceless). Historically, since the Middle Ages, Christians would return this day to the church of their baptism, and usually of their childhood—their “mother church.”

Several years ago, when we were in the midst of a painful season of repeated early pregnancy loss and discerning a major move, we stole away to a cute little beach cottage in Isle of Palms, South Carolina over the Easter holiday. Much of life was in limbo and we found ourselves in the wake of the pandemic without a mother church of our own, trying to piece together a semblance of home—physically and spiritually.

A quick internet search of Lowcountry Anglican churches (of which there are many) revealed that one large congregation held an outdoor Easter service on a breathtaking historic plantation. We put on our new Easter clothes, grabbed a blanket from our AirBnb and set off for what would become one of our most memorable church experiences to date—a service so rich in liturgy and history yet so alive with the Spirit, and a balm to our souls in a season of watching pink lines on pregnancy tests fade away along with the hope our hearts carried with them.

Liturgy offers us this privilege: to be spiritually home and with family no matter where in the world we find ourselves. And while no building can match, perhaps, the nostalgia of the church of our youth, the rhythms of the church year remind us that we needn’t remain untethered even in tabernacle seasons.

We returned to South Carolina for the first time in four years this year for our kids’ early school spring break with two additional precious souls in tow—one of whom will turn one on Easter, a redemptive full circle moment, to be sure—and though it is not our home or even a place we visit with any meaningful regularity, it felt like the strangest homecoming.

The palm trees and hundreds year-old oaks dressed to the nines in Spanish moss like an old southern gentleman in his Sunday best brought back the memory of that brilliant Easter morning that carried us in a desert season, reminding us of where our true rest and refreshment is found and how, surrounded by a thousand strangers in an unfamiliar church but with that same, familiar Anglican liturgy, our hearts could be at home.

Today’s round-up features posts and provisions for your mothering heart, your wayward heart, your restless heart, and, hopefully—on this special day of the church year—your rejoicing heart.

Happy reading…and rejoice!

As a recovering English major, I’m starting my first non-fiction read in years and hoping it lives up to the hype.

This is also on my Lenten reading list at the recommendation of Denise Trull.

Good Books for Girls by at

What is a man? by at (local friends, he will also be speaking at UVa this week on a compelling topic).

Stories That Never Happen by at — Really excellent conviction sandwich.

My husband and I started this book together and it’s a wonderful, easy read on a theology of health and fitness— you can read an excerpt here from .

of gives us a great primer on St. Patrick as well as some beautiful children’s books about our favorite bishop of Ireland.

This piece from of on curating a springtime liturgical binder has so many wonderful ideas. We keep a binder for liturgy and tradition in our home, too. Let me know in the comments if you’re interested in learning more about how we do it!

How to Have More Fun as an Adult by at — I have been thinking about this topic so much as our fourth baby’s first birthday draws near. Is it time for mom to get back on the horse? Like literally and figuratively?

Speaking of fun, I’m putting a hidden desk in our breakfast room during our renovation and I don’t care how 90’s it is…

The Legacy-Minded Mother’s Guide to March (from the LoO archives)

Our new favorite movie night pick.

Fear in the Home: How it Shapes Children and What Helps by at

Small decisions that make a home feel designed—not just decorated by at — on my brain mid-renovation

This is changing the baby self-feeding game in our home.

The perfect March candle.

Just thrifted A Continual Feast and it’s a lovely celebration of traditions in food and faith.

Every Forever Home Needs a “House Kit”—Here’s What Needs to Go in Yours by Lauren Wicks at Veranda — loved this look into ’s must-haves for her home.

Happy first Sunday Monday of Lent! (We do what we can…)

If you, like me, also broke your family fast within the first two days, congratulations! You’re human.

But God is good, and all we can do is try again. After all, Lent—like all seasons of the church calendar—is for our own spiritual growth and formation, as God remains the same.

The other day, a friend from a “non-liturgical” denomination, called into question the “why” behind Lent. She wondered, “Shouldn’t we be living this way all the time (giving alms and the like)?” and “Shouldn’t we simply be led to fast and pray by the Holy Spirit, not the season?”

To which I might answer, yes, and that’s why we need a season like Lent.

If, for you, Lent feels legalistic—like a set of rules you must follow—or is an excuse to act in a Christian way when you otherwise do not or a chance to reinvigorate New Years goals, you’re doing it wrong.

Liturgical living is not rote traditionalism for traditions’s sake, but rather about defying the arrogance of the age that we know better, do better, and pray better, and instead bending our ear and our days to the wisdom of saints who have gone before, right back to the early church and the apostles.

Lent is not a prison, it’s an invitation.

The reality is this: We are all patterning our life and our days after something. Some sort of calendar, cultural expectations or traditions, some sort of liturgy for living.

Take, for example, the largely evangelical notion of a “morning quiet time.”

This is a time when you are supposed to wake up before your children (even your newborn when you have no idea when they will actually wake up on any given day!), grab some bible highlighters and your bible and your journal and maybe some special stickers and a hot coffee and spend an hour or so with the Lord in prayer and in deep study.

Be sure, also, to also make a hot breakfast before your children get up. Does you’re newborn wake up at 5 am? Your alarm must now be set for 3 am (because of the long quiet time, you see…)

In all seriousness, a quiet time like this at the start of each day sounds lovely, and, as a young professional with no children and all the time in the world, I did used to start my day this way many mornings! But this isn’t my reality in the present season nor is it reality for most moms that I know. Yet, the women in my life are living faithful, spiritually vibrant lives in spite of not adhering perfectly, if at all, to this particular practice.

And that’s because the idea of a “morning quiet time” is a fairly new construct of what it looks like to worship God well in largely non-liturgical, American evangelical churches.

Yet, it is a type of liturgy in and of itself.

The truth is, we’re all subscribing to some pattern of life and living.

Do I believe in the value of prayer and scripture first thing for a Christian? You bet. And I’ve done my best to make it a habit to open my Daily Office app and pray through Morning Prayer for 10 minutes or so while nursing the baby (with coffee, actually) in this busy, full season of motherhood and family life with little margin.

But there are many ways to give the first hour of the day to the Lord.

Back to Lent…an ancient (truly, ancient!) practice to prepare ourselves for the resurrection within the context of community, together as the Church.

Because, as the pastor at our church in the DC area before we moved reminded our parish often, “We are not ourselves, by ourselves.”

Personally, observing the church calendar and practicing liturgical living in our home has given me a framework, a trellis, if you will, upon which to construct the spiritual life of our home and support the catechism of our children in a holistic way that is supported by and in tandem with our faith community.

To me, this feels very much the way the Christian life was meant to be lived. Generations upon generations of the faithful—across many denominations—would agree.

So, should we pray without ceasing? Yes!

Should we be a cheerful giver in all things? Being generous with all we’ve been given and feeding the hungry and clothing the naked and tending the sick? Also yes.

Should we fast alongside focused prayer certain times? Yes!

And as such, Lent reminds us—with our wayward and forgetful hearts—to return to these practices, together, and I’m very grateful for it.

And with that, onto our round-up!

All of Those Undone Days by at —“This is the pain of my passing days, of the unrepeatable nature of life, of the sense that sand is slipping through the timer too quickly, and I don’t get to invert it again. This ache can be measured in the photographs of my children’s younger days, in the shock of their infant voices in snatches of family videos, the little cameo appearances that memories and moments make when I least expect them, stripping my heart that all this time has passed.” This was deeply hopeful.

At Home Days by at Hearthstone Fables—A friend and I were just talking about the effort required to maintain a thriving community life and I love the idea of reinvigorating the Victorian tradition of holding official visiting hours once a week. Kind of like professors’ university office hours, but for homebodies and local communities. Will be implementing when we move back into our home post-reno!

The Woman Who Invented the Cotswolds by at —peak aspirational British country everything, a great just for fun read to save for a slow Sunday afternoon.

Senator Ben Sasse, who was diagnosed with advanced pancreatic cancer just before this past Christmas, gave this arresting recent interview to Sola Media and I can’t stop thinking about the wisdom in his words, the kind we are, perhaps, only privileged to when facing our “final enemy” as Sasse rightly names death. has a great reflection on the interview in their recent piece The Bright Sadness of Ben Sasse.

Ash Wednesday: A Heart-Grief Rent by Lanier Ivester at : “The imposition of ashes symbolizes the impermanence of this mortal life and the repentance requisite to keep us in the way of love. For we are all prodigal by nature, prone to wander, quick to forget. But Ash Wednesday can be a turning point, a chance to change direction. It offers us the option to consider our ways and turn homeward”

The Devotional Trap by at : "…you don’t need another devotional. What you need is to feel comfortable in solitude with Christ. You need to learn how Jesus communed with God and take His example as your own.”

My favorite children’s books for Lent + reading through Lent with Maria von Trapp

I’m drinking this tea on repeat and recommending it to everyone I can. It’s almost like spring is here and we’re sitting in a meadow of wildflowers. Almost.

All Creatures Great and Small just wrapped its 6th season and I am unwell. I write about how much I love and learn from it here and recommend watching immediately if you have not! Save it for Sunday and it will help you through Lent & February/March, etc.

Someday, I’ll be the Memory by —"Some day, I will be the memory. If I remain planted in the house of the Lord, the fruit of those memories will be the kind that I long for. Hopeful. Joyful. Honest. And pointing my all of my grandchildren to Christ.” Oof. Thank you for this, Heather.

A fun family guide for Lent—we have adopted the “sacrificial bean jar” idea as a way for our kids to give alms. On Easter, the beans in the jar are converted into dollars to bring to church and jelly beans to eat!

A dear friend and a teacher recently recommended the Betsy-Tacy series to us and they look incredibly sweet! also recommends it in her read-aloud round-up here.

Finally, this moving note on motherhood was making its rounds on Substack for good reason.

Starting to dream about (re)decorating our home and loving the old-fashioned charm of these soap balls and dish for a powder room.

Speaking of dreaming…gardening (and baby chick!) season is practically upon us! We’ve been watching British presenter, author, Country Living UK columnist and smallholder farmer Sally Coulthard’s Youtube series The New Good Life and now I need ducks…

And finally, not a link, exactly, but our renovation has me thinking so much about the physical spaces we inhabit—functionally, aesthetically, and spiritually. Thinking of starting a sister newsletter to Liturgy of Ours that would be what LoO is to meaningful traditions, liturgical living and family culture, to the physical spaces in which all of those things we always do unfold—The Family Home. The backdrop of our lives. A collection of both practical and metaphorical explorations of the various parts of the home and how they support and enhance family life on many levels. Maybe even mini home tours of some of our favorite Legacy-Minded Mothers™?

We shall see…until next time!

(We) always,

It is the day before our third child’s third birthday (!!!), the driveway at the home we are renting while our home undergoes a major renovation is a total sheet of ice (and also built into the side of a mountain), and inspiration is lacking (except when it comes to my favorite wintertime show, of course).

Enter: the return of our weekly round-ups

Monday, February 2 is Candlemas, a well-timed day in our liturgical year marking Jesus’ presentation at the temple and the purification of Mary and the moment in scripture when we hear Simeon recite the Nunc Dimittis:

I love this short canticle so much, the emotion and joy of God’s promise to an old man fulfilled is palpable.

Maybe its because of the overwhelming joy I feel holding a newborn or meeting a friend’s new baby for the first time or seeing an infant baptized and considering how that joy might be infinitely multiplied if that baby were the actual savior of the world.

Historically (and pre-modern electricity), Candlemas offered the opportunity to take stock of the family’s candle supply at a critical point in the winter, replenish as needed and bring the household’s candles to church to be blessed for the year ahead.

I very intentionally selected a candle as the symbol for Liturgy of Ours. First and foremost because it represents the Light of the World and the light we’re all called to be as His image bearers. But also because of all the smaller ways a candle marks the life and legacy of a family and of a Christian. As I wrote in my very first post here on Substack:

A single lit candle—representing celebration, holy observance, and the power of light in the darkness—is our symbol for remaining steadfast in the journey to pattern our days and lives after the One who gave them to us to begin with. It is for the birthday, the baptism, the Fourth of July fireworks and the coming of the baby Jesus. It’s presence reminding us of what we’re aiming for: Light and the beautiful legacy it has the power to illuminate.

And though we no longer posses a practical need for candlelight in our modern age, its lack of necessity has failed to extinguish the soft glow that warms cherub faces gathered around a Tuesday night dinner table the same as it ushers in countless milestones and memories as the life of a family unfolds.

I love curating these weekly round-ups for you and have decided to try moving them to Fridays to allow for more weekend time given to longer form pieces and slowly building out what we’re doing here at Liturgy of Ours to bring you more inspiration, more conversation, and more tools to cultivate a legacy-minded family and home.

Because all of my people are quite small and my time is increasingly limited, my own personal written reflection portion will also be a bit shorter and links will be divided into the following sections to keep it clean and easy for you to navigate: Well Read (internet articles and Substack essays, mostly), In Season (inspiration for liturgical living and family traditions), Mother, Family, and Home (each category with thoughtfully curated books, heirloom-quality products, ideas, recipes, etc. to build your family culture).

How to Make a Healing Home by at offered encouragement for homemaking and creating special moments in less than ideal circumstances. Anxiously awaiting her new book, too!

Mid-home renovation, I loved combing through this list of Country Living’s The Country Design 100 — so many tastemakers and designers who genuinely consider the way a family moves and lives in a space.

For the first generation Christian who feels like they’re building from scratch, Lane Scott’s recent essay, How to Live Your Life Differently, is both practical and hopeful.

’s recent list of ways her mother influenced her (Motherhood I Learned By Example) had me just about in tears. This is it, moms! This is the way to your children’s hearts.

As I consider how to open the doors of our home more this year, both on a small, casual, and larger more festive scale, I have enjoyed following the mother-daughter dinner party-throwing duo over at and reading 12 Tables, 12 Lessons: What Hosting With My Mom Taught Me This Year.

gives us the history and takes us around the world in Candlemas traditions (+ a yummy crepe recipe!)

I was thrilled to learn about Plough Monday from : “Plough Monday is part of the process of blessing the restoration of our vocations - not a deflated slump back to the ‘same old, same old,’ but a celebration & blessing of the return to our daily grind.” How lovely!

For your Candlemas: Beeswax candles made locally by friends of friends in the Blue Ridge.

I also love these candles inspired by the saints and church seasons.

It is still Epiphany for several more weeks, and therefore not too late to bless your house and chalk your doors!

I’ve tried to intentionally turn down the podcast noise this season, but will be a forever fan of and ’s podcast Homemaker Chic which, aside from Jesus and my husband, legitimately kept me going through this past week.

The Daily Office app and this little devotional are my morning staples in a busy and demanding season of motherhood and life.

Bought a pack of wool Nordic Socks for my kids to pull on after coming in from playing in the snow or home from school. They love them.

In the same cozy vein, the equal-sized popcorn bowl struggle for Friday movie night was real so I bought four of these splatter enamelware bowls (I got the medium size) and I thank myself every Friday at approximately 6:30 pm for doing so.

I do not wish to get into the childhood screentime debate at this below-freezing-with-a-baby-and-a-toddler-in-a-home-thats-not-my-own juncture…so if you, like me, are in need of the occasional respite in the form of a (gasp!) television show, yet desire your children’s further education in virtue and deepening character formation, look no further than American Hero Classics.

Ordered a few of these kids’ catechism books for our family devotional time and plan to work through them during Lent!

Alright, before you get all “is she really posting about canned beans?” hear me out: Heyday’s beans and soups are…pretty dang good. High in fiber and protein. Flavorful enough to just add as an easy side at dinner or as a quick lunch on a hunk of sourdough (may I recommend the Tomato Alla Vodka?)

Burpee just released Thomas Jefferson’s Revolutionary Garden 250th Seed Collection, printing this on the packet from Jefferson: "Cultivators of the earth are the most valuable citizens. They are the most vigorous, the most independent, the most virtuous, and they are tied to their country and wedded to it's liberty and interests by the most lasting bands."

I’ve been wanting to make “Sunday dinner” more of a thing and just discovered The Sunday Dinner Cookbook with menu plans for all 52 Sundays, including festive holiday menus year-round.

This past weekend we loaded up the Yukon and hauled off to the opening weekend for our friends’ family Christmas tree farm. With snow on the ground (but no longer on the road) the short drive from our house to their property felt like a Hallmark movie as a favorite Celtic Christmas playlist hummed in the background, even as my toddler incessantly requested some very un-Christmasy kids songs and so, kind of killed the mood a little bit.

My husband and son followed the girls and I in the truck (because is anything more luxurious than throwing a tree in the back of a pick up truck rather than tying it to the roof of your car? My husband thinks not) and we set out to find the perfect Christmas tree, a feat we accomplished in under 15 minutes thanks to the beautiful selection of trees and low-key, kid-friendly, yet highly festive vibe our friends had curated on their beautiful family farm (I see you )! I know we’ll be returning year over year—a new tree tradition has been made. Bless it.

Our family Christmas tree customs continued as we laid a festive spread to trim our tree together, kids clad in the Christmas pajamas that St. Nicholas left by their shoes the morning before.

They each received their ornament of the year—one that captures an important aspect of their particular season of life (this year’s ornaments included a bike, a vintage American Girl Samantha figure, a darling ballerina, and a sweet framed newborn photo) and a second ornament that I made for each of them calling out a virtue they embodied over the past year (calling this the Good Character Award ornament, or something. Needs a better name…)

This year, borrowing an idea from , I purchased a pretty, inexpensive box for each child to hold their collection of yearly ornaments with a list tucked inside of each ornament and the corresponding year.

The Christmas tree tradition—though some have pointed to its supposed Germanic pagan origins—is rich with Christian meaning, symbolizing the coming Light of the World, the Tree of Life, hope in darkness, and the everlasting life we have in Christ. The legend of St. Boniface, an evangelist in 8th century Germany, tells of how he used the symbolism of a fir tree to turn German pagans from their false god, Thor, to Christ.

Our modern Christmas tree tradition of decorating with candles, homemade items, sweets and glass ornaments and was popularized by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, a custom brought by the prince from his native Germany. In 1848, the royal couple were illustrated gathered round the tree in the Illustrated London News and the tradition became popularized amongst the Victorians.

Praying this Christmas tree blessing is one way we use our tree trimming traditions to draw our children (and ourselves) up deeper into the story of the nativity.

The Jesse Tree tradition is another way to deepen the meaning of the classic Christmas tree, as the story of Jesus’ family tree is daily revealed during Advent via a symbolic ornament and devotional reading.

Our round-up today is a cozy one, I hope these pieces bless you this week as we walk toward the ever-brightening light of Christmas! Happy trimming!

Links I Love: A Few Good {Tree Trimming} Things

Is Traditional Christmas Really Making a Comeback? by at — “There’s a genuine hunger for the rhythms the prior generations knew.” Yes and amen. I am finding this to be so true. As our local parish’s rector always says, “the future of the church is ancient.”

Christmas Nostalgia by at — This whole post is a testament to the generational power of the things we always do.

10 Meaningful Traditions We Return to Every Holiday Season by at — I love following this family online and they outline so many sweet traditions here, many of which are part of our family Advent and Christmas celebrations, as well.

Advent: So Goes Christendom by at — “I have an inkling that we may be surprised in heaven to find that those customs have done more to convert the world than any other effort we make.” Yes!

The Christmas Our Grandparents Knew by at — Oh, how I long to give my children a Christmas like this, where the gift of time is wrapped up in simple, yet meaningful and memorable moments that they will carry with them their whole life long.

How to Make an Advent Wreath—Glad & Golden Hours by —My own personal favorite book to curl up with in my *spare time* during Advent is Glad & Golden Hours by Lanier Ivester. The Rabbit Room is sharing excerpts over the course of Advent and this classic wreath tutorial is not to be missed!

Christmas Gift Handmade by Children by at — Our older two are reaching the age where the things they make are actually useful and beautiful! Will be borrowing a few gift ideas from this list this year, for sure.

Mrs. Scott Builds Her Dream House by at — At the risk of revealing what a total fangirl I really am, I’m including another of Lane’s incredible posts in yet another weekly round-up. This could not have been more well-timed as we plan and design and consider our upcoming renovation with intention and an eye toward a generational family home. “Traditional design can teach us a lot about housing for large families, but it has to be adapted and reimagined to accommodate the modern changes to American life that we all wish to keep. We might want more children and a family seat like people had in the past, but we also want to bring our modern technology and contemporary hosting and social circles along with us.” Good. So good.

Speaking of thoughtful homes, I gifted myself ’s new book, Home for Christmas in the name of “research” for our renovation and my own writing. It is delightful, useful, beautiful. All of the above.

At home with Callie Coles for Christmas in the wild Devon countryside by Virginia Clark at House & Garden UK — Because what is this round up without a little British countryside escapism. An English country house filled with children, dogs, ponies and mince pies? Say less. Callie’s animal-centric life and home is idyllic, especially at Christmastime.

And finally, in keeping with this week’s theme, a quick list of our very favorite Christmas tree-related books: Pick a Pine Tree, Christmas Farm, The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree, The Tale of Three Trees and The Little Fir Tree plus our current Jesse Tree devotional

Happy Christ the King (and Stir-up) Sunday!!

Christ the King Sunday closes our liturgical year as we look forward to Advent—the Christian new year! On this day we acknowledge the kingship of Christ, declaring that He is indeed “King of Kings and Lord of Lords” (Revelation 19:16).

The name Stir-up Sunday originated in the Victorian era (I’m currently knee deep in research into Victorian traditions, notions of childhood and motherhood, etc. and I will share what I’m learning soon…) when British families would come together to “stir up” the Christmas pudding—a staple at the Victorian Christmas dinner table. The name originates from a historic collect for the Sunday before Advent:

Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people; that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works, may of thee be plenteously rewarded; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The traditional Christmas pudding included thirteen ingredients to represent Jesus and his disciples.

Those Victorians…I know. All things bursting with hidden meaning.

Switching gears…

My husband has been out of town cleaning out his mom’s home with his brothers. This will be their first Thanksgiving without her and I’m once again reminded of how our legacy lives on here on earth even as our souls as Christian live on in eternity.

We are all thrilled to report that her famous meatball recipe was found!

As we barrel towards the start of what I like to call the Family Traditions High Season, and what perhaps more appropriately calls “The Mom Olympics”, I’ve been both challenged and encouraged by a handful of thoughtful posts that grapple with notions of family, heritage, inheritance and legacy.

This Sunday’s (11th hour) round-up includes several of these pieces—concepts I’m wrestling with and considering and learning from. Some of them might strike a nerve with some of you, but it is Stir-up Sunday, after all and I think we could all learn to live with a little bit more discomfort—this is how we grow, isn’t it?

I’m putting the finishing touches on a post about the Thanksgiving table and building a legacy and family culture despite the challenges this holiday can bring. My default is to want to tie things up conceptually in a pretty little bow, for my words to arrive, clickity-clackety, at sure conclusions as I add an emphatic exclamation mark to the end. But in both my forthcoming post and the pieces I’ve curated here, there is quite a bit of nuance, a lack of absolutes.

What I do know is this: the Lord can do miraculous things in a single generation. He can pluck up a family out of the darkness and just like that, set them on eternal paths, cauterizing generational wounds and destructive patterns in an instant. The traditions we keep, the things we always do, are simply our way of pointing our children and ourselves in gratitude and in hope to the One who made it so.

Happy Reading!

Links I Loved: A Few Good {Stir-up Sunday} Things

On Making Thanksgiving Happen When There’s Just You by — I was really moved and encouraged by this piece, especially as I was mid-draft on my own reflection about the Thanksgiving table—absolutely worth the read if you feel alone in your pursuit of making the holidays happen. Maria beautifully writes, “I am here to tell you that making these holidays happen alone (just your husband and you) can be challenging, but it is not impossible. And I believe that it is absolutely worth the effort. We can fall into the trap of thinking that our own families aren’t worth the time and resources that we might expend for guests; but of all the people in all of creation, God wove together your little family as an image of the Holy Family in Nazareth. And whether your resources are many or few, the love you pour into these efforts will not be wasted. Your family, even your little ones, will see your efforts. These efforts will be what your children remember when they look back and begin a story with the words “We would always…”

Who should travel for the holidays? by — A thoughtful consideration of what it means to be the central hub, the “kinkeeper” if you will, of an extended family. I’ve been thinking about this role a lot recently, and what it looks like to hold a family together across generations.

Speaking of holding families together across time and space… wrote a very popular piece this week entitled When Grandma Sells the House: Family Gatherings in Millennial Grey all about a central hub and gathering place for family to come together for the holidays…a place to come home to, even for adult children with children of their own—and I think it struck a nerve in a lot of us. Lane writes of her dream to establish a family compound for her children to come home to, “I’d like to give them a break and make them feel like kids again, relaxed and taken care of, when the cares and worries of work and young family life threaten to consume them.” Can I get an amen? More of my thoughts on this here.

Why do we get so mad about parents supporting their adult children? by — To be honest, my thinking on this topic has changed drastically in the past few years as I’ve considered what it looks like to build a generationally sound family unit that mutually benefits from those in the generations above and below for the purpose of advancing a cohesive family mission. I agree with Lindsey when she writes, “All this moralizing about money and insisting that we’re only supposed to support our children from birth to 18, and then they must leave the nest and make it on their own, just seems so lonely. We should be encouraging families to have tight bonds and share resources throughout their lives.” Worth a read…it might change your thinking!

Why Lifeless Rituals Are Better Than None by — This was excellent. And a great argument for the importance of the things we always do. Griffin writes, “The early church, coming out of Judaism’s strict Hebrew calendar, maintained a much higher view of rituals than most Protestants today. Now, there’s endless debate about how the early church prayed and worshipped. But out of all my research, I’ve found one point that’s rarely contested: early Christians stopped to pray and worship three times a day (morning, noon, and night). Regardless of the way the church prayed or worshiped, the sheer repetition of rituals was undeniably baked into their weekly, daily, hourly communal schedule. Going off of this, we might say that even though how we worship is crucial, perhaps the most crucial part of our worship is that we worship repeatedly, rhythmically, and sustainably.”

You may be overthinking mashed potatoes by — Tuck this away for Thanksgiving, friends! How I love some straightforward holiday meal advice from our favorite internet auntie.

A Collect Reflection for Christ the King Sunday by our friend Rev. Gerry McDermott for Anglican Compass — A quick reflection on the kingship of Christ to end your Christ the King Sunday after all that heavy reading about family dynamics and the like I just loaded onto your plate…

(We) Always,

Julie

Advent is fast approaching as the first Sunday falls on the last day of November this year, but as my friend writes, it isn’t here just yet!

So even as social media has been flooded with images declaring the splendor of Christmas before we’ve even fed the pumpkins to the chickens and cracked a can of cranberry sauce, I’m remembering that the Church calendar is a gift of intentional rhythms that answers our modern bent towards excess, lack of self-restraint and patience. If I might be so bold, the explosion of Christmas decor, content and merrymaking in late-October/early-November is the grown-up equivalent of a child insisting on celebrating their birthday a month beforehand. And, as I often remind my children when they ask why it can’t be their birthday (or Christmas, or any other wonderful celebratory time) every. single. day…if it were so, then it wouldn’t be special. There is nothing set apart, nothing sacred, nothing holy, if we’re given to our over-stuffed, consumerist impulses whenever we “feel” Christmasy.

Now, there is nothing wrong with prudent preparation before Advent arrives—shopping, wrapping, sending the Christmas cards and party invites, making grocery lists and baking lists, ordering craft supplies, and buying tickets to the Nutcracker—in fact, a meaningful season requires it. But doing so is a different animal than indulging in Christmas celebrations while the Halloween candy’s still fresh in a pumpkin-shaped bucket (who am I kidding…that stuff will stay fresh forever.)

Advent is beautiful in its own glowing restraint. Christmastide, an exuberantly joyful season! But they are both as such because they last only a short while.

Have we forgotten temperance? Ecclesiastes reminds us—to every thing there is season. Even the most wonderful time of the year.

It has been some time since I’ve posted a round-up, and this will be my last in this particular weekly format as I’m shifting series around a bit to accommodate a growing vision and some new voices.

But there’s been so much good reading on Substack and elsewhere as of late that it took a good bit of consideration just to pare the link load down to a manageable Sunday scroll…

I’m home solo from church with a baby who was up in the night and is conked out in the carrier at the time of this writing. It is a season of staying behind with her, and this post was an encouragement in that. This afternoon we’ll light a bonfire, play in the yard, and stir up a Sunday sauce as we ready our home for the busy week ahead.

Links I loved….

Whatever Happened to Family Meals by — Susan reminds us, “There are too many good options for us in how to spend our time. Sadly, these can easily replace an even better tradition. It’s easy to fall into the trap of overbooking our families with good choices. However, as parents, our job is to take the long-term view. We have to ask the question, In the long run what is going to matter more?”

The Lost Art of Serving Your Family by — A thoughtful paradigm shift we can never be reminded of too many times.

How To…Set Up Your Life for Babies, Middle Childhood and Teenagers and Seven Weeks Hath the Mom Olympics by at —girl is on fire with the posts of late! Both of these were supremely helpful for different reasons, plus I love how Lane doesn’t let us take the easy way out when it comes to creating meaning in our homes, but rather challenges us to rise to the occasion as we become mom olympiads ourselves.

Who should travel for the holidays? by at — “But critically, the tradition is not just making and eating cookies. It’s also considering who else eats the cookies. The job isn’t just to make them, it’s also to provide them to the rest of the village. The tradition is a duty. The village is made up of the people who eat the cookies, perform in the Christmas Eve talent show, do the post-Thanksgiving decorating party (another newer tradition in our family), or whatever. And it’s the leaders’ job to make sure these things happen so that we know the village still exists and who is a part of it.”

Creating a Life-giving and Inspiring Home by — “Home is more than a physical space — it is a feeling. A collection of objects with meaning and memories. More than just a place to dwell — but a safe haven for your family to express their gifting, explore creativity, and be wholly themselves in every season of life. For us, it’s a place to teach our children “when they rise and when they go to bed,” to learn algebra as well as how to make crème brûlée. A place to welcome others around our table—to nourish and feast, foster deep and meaningful conversation, play a competitive board game, or simply laugh until our cheeks hurt. It’s where life unfolds in the ordinary and the sacred, side by side.”

Becoming Unafraid by at — We are living in terrifying times. Daily headlines paint a picture of a world unraveling. And Sarah is reminding us of a key biblical truth as the antidote.

Sunday Dinner: The Basis of Home Culture by at — “Even without being aware of the rich theological and historical traditions of Sabbath meals, an intentional Sunday meal can transform family life. Our homes not only become a sanctuary from the world, but foster love and culture.” I loved this!!

Rhythms of Faith — chats about ’s new book, Rhythms of Faith. Claude is the rector at our sister parish and I snapped this wonderful devotional up for my liturgical library in a hurry. I’ve been loving Kristin’s content as of late, too—such an encouragement in our liturgical living journey.

Finally, I recently cracked open a very 1990’s book on traditions: Mrs. Sharp’s Traditions: Reviving Victorian Family Celebrations of Comfort & Joy…and it is delightful. Giving me all sorts of post ideas, to boot! The Victorians really were the OG mom bloggers. More on this soon.

Happy Sunday!

(We) Always,

I’m writing today, ever so briefly, from Maine’s beautiful southern coast—our family happy place that has become, in the last five years, steeped in tradition for our little clan of now six. It is a sacred time carved out of every summer, absolutely brimming with things “we always” do. I’ll be sharing more about summer traditions and the value of place in curating family culture and cultivating collective memory, but for today, while the weather is perfect and the end of nap time approaches, here are some great reads—from Substack and elsewhere—that have me thinking, inspired, or both this summer.

We’ve been here nearly two weeks and I’m just starting to feel my cortisol levels come down as it has simultaneously come to my attention—not in an unalarming way—how much I’ve been letting a real honest-to-goodness pursuit of rest, joy and peace escape me (and by default, our whole family unit).

My friend wrote recently on this topic here and, as we turn (however hesitantly) to the rhythms of the school year, also penned a supremely helpful little primer on anyone wanting to make a go at crafting a family Rule of Life.

We’ll be starting our second year of homeschooling this fall, but with an incredibly merciful (for me) twist: we’re enrolling our two oldest in a classical Christian hybrid program where they will attend classes three days a week and we’ll do school at home the other two. I’m exceedingly excited to have found a solution that allows for both the flexibilty and increased family time that comes with homeschool and the structure and support of a classical school. Some posts I’m taking to heart to gird myself for the journey: this from my friend Sam at Story Warren: Explain Up, Don’t Dumb Down: Why Little Kids Need Big Words and a Charlotte Mason-inspired article sent to me by my sister-in-law on habit formation. Whew. It’s a long one which is okay because it was great for cultivating the lost habit of focused attention (!!!)

A recent post from The Heights School headmaster (who is absolutely one of my favorite reads on Substack) on establishing family culture is great encouragement as life settles back into a more structured routine and we consider more thoughtfully the pattern of our days and the ins and outs of a meaningful family life.

Speaking of fall schedules, my internal battle about kids activities continues and I’ve blessedly convinced my eldest to postpone a sport with one practice and once game per week until I am done nursing the baby. We’ll layer in plenty of activities, continuing with our incredible swim teacher through the fall, starting 4-H and maybe dabbling in golf or gymnastics, but I remain hesitant about it all, grasping to maintain the simplicity, if exhaustion, of the little little years for just one more season. has an interesting take on kids’ sports and adult community.

On a lighter note, if I ever win the lottery, I won’t tell anyone…but there will be signs. And those signs with be named Gil Schafer and Rita Konig designing my house. And then I’ll invite you over and make this salad and we’ll have a nice chat and a jolly good time.

Speaking of great salads (look, the transition to four kids has weakened my intellect, ok?), I’ve been reading more this summer about the Ignatian Rules for the Discernment of Spirits, finding this piece and this series inspiring and helpful.

I also can’t stop thinking about ’s recent posts You Are What You Choose: There is No Middle Ground and The Quiet War Within: The Art of Becoming the Person You Are Meant to Be as well as ’s piece On the Nature of Grace and Virtues.

Finally, as I return to this space after a mini-summer hiatus, Christopher Mari reminds us all why we write, and I’m encouraged to keep on writing while ’s post How to Create a Beloved Family Tradition and ’s recent piece What we lose when we lose a physical record of childhood are both present reminders of why I’m cultivating Liturgy of Ours to encourage families to practice generational faithfulness by creating meaningful legacies through the things “we always” do—liturgical and otherwise. There is no work I’d rather do than write, share, interview and curate on this topic as I seek its practical implementation in the weaving together of my own family’s culture and legacy.

(We) always,

I have in my head a picture of an ideal birth…

I’ll keep things fairly vague because I have found the dialogue around birth amongst women on the internet to be largely unhelpful, especially considering that trying to apply someone else’s birth story to your own life feels analogous to an optimistic purchase of one of those “One Size” caftan dresses, thinking that somehow the same dress could actually compliment the full range of women’s bodies.

But what I will say is that all of my births have been far from my ideal.

And, as you do when you find yourself two months postpartum and suddenly ruminating over how everything has gone so far, I was bemoaning this fact to my sister-in-law as she dutifully listened and then gently reminded me of all that the Lord has done in and through my births and the building of our family…of all that has gone well for me, for us, and all the ways that He has used what hasn’t to make us more like Him.

Pregnancy, though not a stage of life I particularly savor, has been free of morning sickness and any serious complications.

Despite the trauma of any given birth, I have bonded with each baby with remarkable ease.

My babies and I have remained healthy and safe throughout each labor and delivery—even that one time my son caught his shoulder on the way out! (Which he eerily recounted for us one day as a five year-old…)

I have not experienced postpartum depression to any meaningful degree outside of your standard sleep-deprived baby blues.

I have recovered to a normal, healthy state of being and have been able to nurse two children past a full year! And all of them, so far, to at least six months (jury is still out on #4, but it’s looking good…)

These are no small mercies.

But despite all that has gone well and despite less than ideal births, I have finally begun to realize (four births deep) that, to quote Jordan Peterson, “This is so not about you!”

Birth isn’t about fulfilling the mother’s deepest desires for a perfect birthing experience. It just isn’t! (I’ve been watching too much Peterson, okay?)

And while I believe that God can do great works of healing through birth, as through any extremely meaningful life experience (or ordinary life experience for that matter), a “healing” or “dream” or “perfect” birth is not a determinant of one’s holiness nor strength, nor is it something we, as women, are owed. And while there certainly is an ideal to hope and pray for (say, a VBAC after a traumatic c-section, or in my case, perhaps going into active labor at any other time of the day other than the dead of night) much of birth boils down to genetics, physiology, and circumstance.

My circumstances have consisted of my water breaking at or around midnight in three out of four births. Early morning deliveries after long nights. Excruciating back labor in half of them. And long labors for everyone but our fourth. There have been both crowded, big city hospitals and quiet recovery rooms with mountain views, nurses both saint-like and well, not, prolonged postpartum recoveries and quick “bounce backs.”

There has also been the problem of reconciling the sterile with the sacred in the case of my required, yet not necessarily always preferred, hospital births.

Now, it goes without saying hospital births and the presence of skilled medical professionals apart from midwives are a blessing and necessary for some (myself included) and preferred by many.

Yet.

To me there is still something a little off, a bit cold and clinical, about welcoming new life into a room of harsh lights and disconcerting beeps and purple nitrile gloves. An otherwise sacred space is intruded upon by doctors and nurses not of your own choosing and you just kind of have to…deal.

And in such a setting, it can be hard to find the words to thank God for the miracle that has just occurred, especially when one is going on say, nearly two straight days of no sleep, after having accomplished an immense physical feat, and surrounded by strangers who are wondering if they could just quickly unswaddle your precious new gift and slip a cold metal thermometer under their arm moments after they’ve fallen asleep.

(This time I finally worked up the courage to tell them that no, they could not under any circumstance unswaddle her until I got some damn sleep)

You know the feeling when another’s words—whether written or spoken—give form to your thoughts completely. Thoughts you didn’t even necessarily know you had?

“I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

That’s how I felt the first time I heard the rite of Thanksgiving for the Birth or Adoption of a Child from the Book of Common Prayer as our rector prayed over our third baby and family just two years ago, and again as we welcomed little Juliet just before Easter.

In our hyper-individualistic, custom-made, “me, myself and God” American Christian culture, the gift of “here are some thoughtfully considered prayers to pray right now in this exact circumstance” may not be immediately recognized as such.

But it is a gift to pray well-worn prayers.

We know this much from Jesus Himself.

And I wanted to share this special liturgy here for those who may not be part of a liturgical church or for any mother who longs for the holy simplicity of a well-thought out prayer in the fragile hours and days after birth.

I’ve pulled a few of the prayers below and you can read the liturgy in full here.

These words have blessed me mightily and I hope that they might bless you too—even if you aren’t pregnant or postpartum and just need a reminder of all that is good and beautiful about bringing children into the world and raising them up in the knowledge and love of God…and especially as summer, with its immense measure of family time, is upon us.

Links I loved: A few good (postpartum/parenting/pre-summer) things:

Why We Need Saints, Not Celebrities by Dan Marotta at Common Good Magazine — “The “cloud of witnesses” are deacons, priests, and bishops. They are artists, poets, and musicians. Rulers and enslaved. Men and women. Monks and parents. Children and elderly. They are converts from various world religions. They are Baptists, Roman Catholics, Anglicans, Presbyterians, Lutherans, Eastern Orthodox, and Methodists. They are from every inhabited continent and all twenty centuries of the church’s history. If you are a baptized Christian, this is the family of Christ you are reborn into. This is our church, and it continues to speak today. May the lives and words of these saints inspire us, challenge us, and urge us on as we “run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus.””

On Raising Intense Kids by at — My friend Katie muses beautifully on the joys and challenges of raising intense children. This was a balm to my soul heading into summer with two kiddos who are pretty intense in very different ways.

Garden With Children by Reid Makowsky at Plough — “In the spring my dad roto-tilled the winter’s ashes into the soil. My mom dug rows, and when the time came, planted seedlings. I loved the neat rows of squash and beans, and I loved the sights, sounds, and smells of putting up pickles in the kitchen. It was a different kind of gardening from the no-dig, permaculture-inspired garden we are attempting. But it was productive, and it gave my parents the opportunity to do the kind of work they enjoyed. It was one of their few shared endeavors. I couldn’t imagine not giving my own children some version of these memories that now, at a distance of thirty-five years, seem not just magical but sacred.”

The Beauty of Celebrating the Liturgical Year in Your Home by at — “We want more than just Sunday morning. We want our homes to echo the seasons of the Church. We want our children to grow up knowing not just about Advent or Easter, but what it feels like to wait, to long, to rejoice, to fast, to feast. The good news? You don’t need a theology degree or a Pinterest-perfect home to do this. You just need a heart willing to pay attention, and maybe a candle or two.”

I Learned Virtue From Alasdair MacIntyre (1929-2025) by Wyatt Graham at The Gospel Coalition — The Christian—and particularly Protestant—encounter with a tradition of Christian virtue is nothing short of mind-blowing. I’ve been on this journey for a couple years now and this piece encouraged my continued pursuit.

How to Take Charge of Your Family Inheritance by Arthur Brooks at The Atlantic—Oof this was good. And encouraging. Give me anything epigenetics-related and I’m sold.

Finally, I couldn’t pre-order this book from of fast enough—can’t wait!

I hear tiny footsteps outside my bedroom door as my husband readies our big three kids for Palm Sunday church while I watch the baby sleep. I’m proud of him for bravely solo-parenting the toddler on one of the holiest days of the church year and simultaneously grateful for the time to rest and heal so that I can rejoin our crew for Easter Sunday next week.

The resurgence of “liturgical living” and patterning our lives, particularly at home as a family, after the church year (which is to say, after the life of Jesus)—even amongst typically “non-liturgical” Christian traditions—has given way to an absolute wealth of resources and knowledge across the internet and particularly here on Substack. I’m still learning so much, digging deeper into the historical roots of our faith, borrowing ideas to integrate the liturgical life into the heartbeat of our home, and looking to women and mothers (and fathers) who have been doing this far longer than I have for wisdom and encouragement in the imperfect pursuit of it all.

That said, there will be no big reflection here today, just a hopefully thoughtful curation of all the Holy Week goodness I’ve saved this week from around the web with the hope that it might be of some meaningful use to you, too.

Links I loved: A few good (Holy Week) things:

This year we’ll be using Little Way Chapel’s Holy Week for Holy Families guide along with of ’s Lent and Easter guides for families, and these Resurrection eggs. We’re planning for hot cross buns (I want to try Mary Berry’s recipe) on Friday, making easy-peasy Resurrection rolls, naturally dyed eggs and a lamb cake on Saturday in preparation for our Easter feast on Sunday.

Speaking of Dame Mary Berry, my husband and I watched her two-part “Mary Berry’s Easter Feasts” while waiting on baby to make her entrance and it was a complete delight to learn about how Christians from various traditions and cultures celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord!

Also from this great guide: Preparing for Holy Week: A Day-by-Day Guide Through the Church’s Most Sacred Days

Danielle at Cathechesis Books is offering free printable cards for families to guide them through Holy Week.

How I’m Making Easter Special by at — I just bought her new cookbook and love absolutely everything about the intentional yet light-hearted energy she brings to family and celebration.

I loved these two posts, How We Observe the Triduum as a Family and The Blessing of the Easter Baskets by — so many ideas for driving home the profound meaning of these holy days to littles at home.

Ideas for Celebrating Easter by at — some treasures here, too!

Celebrating Easter Like We Mean It — a thoughtful episode by John and Sofia Cuddeback on their podcast The Intentional Household.

As you read this, I earnestly hope and pray that I am holding our fourth baby in my arms, whether still in the hospital or at home. As of this writing, she is over a week late, my latest by a stretch, and despite trying all the tricks and pulling all the stops to get things moving, it seems as though our littlest love is operating on her own time…or perhaps God’s own time.

I have shared with several friends that this time between my due date and now has felt a bit like the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Life seems on hold in a way. There is a lot of time, not a ton to do (or, in my case—much to do but without the physical capacity to accomplish it), and regular rhythms of meals, laundry, cleaning, writing, work, and tending to children that must be maintained despite the oddness of it all. Each moment seems to be just kind of hanging there, pregnant with anticipation (terrible pun of course intended…all my cleverness has waned), unable to be fully enjoyed or utilized for all the waiting it continues to bring.

In short, it’s been a challenge—mentally, physically, spiritually. As I was making yet another pathetic attempt at “40+ week pregnancy gardening” this past week, I had a thought come to me about bending over and bending low and why it’s so frustrating to not be able to do so in the pursuit of a meaningful life. But this will be another post for another day.

Today, I simply want to share my typical weekly curation of lovely links, thought-provoking pieces and nuggets of wisdom from around the internet in a stubborn refusal to skip yet another week of this little series that I credit with holding me accountable to a regular writing rhythm.

Hope you enjoy, happy Sunday and be blessed!

xoxo,

Me and my (hopefully) newborn baby

Links I Love: A Few Good (Waiting) Things

Hear Us Out: Home Logos Could Convince You To Ditch Monograms by Nicole Letts at Southern Living — from last fall but I LOVE this trend. Yet another way to drive home a sense of belonging. We have lovingly named our property “Pear Tree Hill” for the pear tree that sits atop our, well, hill, between our main house and the little cottage we’ll be sharing as a short-term rental soon, and for the spiritual significance of the pear tree itself. A home logo would be a fun way to share our heart for this place with friends and family now and for generations to come.

The Other Cancel Culture by Dixie Dillon Lane at Front Porch Republic — speaking of feasting, fasting, parties and gatherings, this post was good, true, convicting and most definitely worth the read.

In Praise of “Old” by Reid Makowsky at Front Porch Republic — “Since the Enlightenment, we have been living in the looking glass: the Myth of Progress. Of the two, ours is the more dangerous to the soul, tending toward pride rather than humility. It also leaves us disdainful of the past or of anything to do with the past, and why not, if we naively assume that “it’s getting better; it’s getting better all the time”?”

It’s Just Stuff: What Estate Sales Reveal About Us by Sherry Shenoda at Plough — “I learn of them bit by bit through the things that survive them: the oak cabinets, the carefully tended roses, the wallpaper. What will be left when we leave this place?” This was beautiful. A considered reflection on the stuff that we accumulate and carry with us through life and the legacy it leaves behind.

The Sweetness of Family Life by Ida Gazzola at — loved this post on everyday traditions, big celebrations and the way that they affect attachment.

Crunchy Mama or Devouring Mother by — “My crunchiness was a form of idolatry. The truth is that nothing can deliver us or our children from the pain of living in a fallen world except for our hope in Christ’s mercy. The harder we cling to any other idea, even good ones, under the misconception that we can be saved by our adherence to it, the harder reality hits back. Love, properly understood, requires surrender. So I have learned, with some reluctance, to hold my children a little more loosely, not least because my plans for them simply pale in comparison to their true Creator’s.” I was cheering as I read this.

Where Hearts Meet: Conversation starters for around the family table by at — nothing like the everyday tradition of dinnertime together for building a strong family culture and legacy-minded home. Love Angelina’s whole Substack for this very purpose.

Here we are…just days away from my due date with our precious fourth baby. I’m spending the days cleaning, doing laundry, trying to rest as much as possible (which proves more difficult with each subsequent child), meal prepping, chicken and children chasing, pathetically trying to prep garden beds before my husband and kids take pity on my state and jump in with their shovels and rakes.

This year’s garden plans include abundant sprinkles of flower seeds, a whole bed of lavender, tomatoes, cucumber, peppers, lettuces and greens, strawberries, blueberries and herbs—all the herbs…and maybe some carrots because of the satisfaction my kids find in pulling them up, oh, and french breakfast radishes for that quick seed to harvest hit. The goal here is to make things as enjoyable as possible—not fussy, just pretty, fragrant, simple and fun.

In our current cultural moment, it is easy to fall prey to the desiring of another perceived reality rather than that which is ours to live into, duping ourselves into thinking that what we actually want is what our friend/sister/favorite mom influencer/celebrity is doing and pursuing without taking into account our God-given gifts, present circumstances, and His will for our lives. But when we approach a given season of life with a clarity of desire and rightly aligned affections, suddenly the burden to be/act/arrange our lives how we think we are supposed to falls away and we are free to operate within the realm of who we were actually created to be with all of the good works that God actually ordained for us to walk in.

Any online gardening guru will tell you about how you can sustain your entire family for a year in just xx hours a day with xx raised garden beds. I love these people! I admire them. I sit in awe as they pull up potatoes and onions and garlic that fill their old world wooden crates to overflowing only to be stored in dark rooms and handily retrieved for soups and stews in the cold winter months.

It’s nice to think about, the idea of being a self-sustaining homesteader or even a prolific gardener. But deep down is it what I really want? Is it the primary thing the Lord is calling me into this season, at least enough of one to justify the time and intention that would need to be spent?

Maybe someday this will be me! But for now, or maybe forever, it most definitely is not.

What I want as I stroll out to the garden with a newborn attached and three others in tow, is to be able to clip bundles of flowers for big bouquets for the kitchen island and dining table and little posies to place all over the house—atop the piano, by my bedside, in the baby’s nursery, at the homeschool table. I want to be able to grab a few tomatoes and cucumbers for our family’s favorite summer salad, to watch my five year-old son crunch into a bell pepper straight from the plant, to hand the toddler a big juicy basil leaf as she inhales it’s herbaceous, aromatic scent only to let out a hugely dramatic “AHHHHHH” after doing so.

I don’t want to be a hero in the garden this year.

I don’t want the squash bugs, the tracking of harvest dates, or the succession planting. I just want to enjoy it alongside my kids as they marvel at God’s creation and how He invites us to co-create with Him. Thankfully, in our hometown in beautiful central Virginia there are CSAs and farmer’s markets aplenty to supplement the harvest as we continue on our journey of separation from our utterly pathetic dependence on grocery stores (do not ask how this is going…because the answer is not well—but we keep trying!)

The truth is, I am a very amateur gardener who hardly feels worthy of our lovely little kitchen garden with its ten neat beds, charming teak picnic table and pea gravel painstakingly wheeled in and spread by my husband last summer. No, I am no master gardener, as my harvest last year laid bare, though I am making efforts to get there…someday.

I’d love to be better, to increase in knowledge and skill in the worthy pursuit that is growing what we eat and use—it’s on my list! But this is a year for a different kind of planting, sowing, reaping and harvest…that of our rhythms, traditions, liturgies and life as a family of six.

The question of what we want is one that our media and culture is consistently trying to shape and assert on our behalf. This goes for the garden and for the home and for the way in which we raise our children. But when considering desire in light of the gospel, the hope is that what we truly want will ultimately align with what He wants for us, too.

I know through scripture and prayer and wise counsel that God wants our growing family to thrive and increase in the knowledge and love of His son, and so even my garden goals must be adjusted accordingly, as do all the things we always do in different seasons of life.

And so what do I want from my garden this year? One that is abundant and fruitful enough for the enjoyment and learning of my family, yet simple and low-maintenance enough to not prove a major stressor in our day-to-day so that we might turn our focus to first things, feeling no pang of guilt when a plant wilts beyond repair in the summer sun because we spent the morning reading aloud instead of watering and no sense of disappointment in our lack of an Instagram-worthy veg harvest because we stole away to the sea for a couple of weeks in August to settle into the new shape of our family and home.

Year over year, we’re figuring out our “we always” in the little bit of land that we have been graciously given to cultivate, but I hope my children are at the very least learning this—we always try, we always take some time each day to help things grow and to care for life outside of ourselves, we always have some pretty flowers to stick in a bud vase next to our beds, and we always do it together.

Links I Love: A Few Good (Growing Season) Things

Speaking of gardening and nature, we have been listening to the Nat Theo podcast and just joined their membership. So many wonderful resources and our kids are love, love, loving it.

Discovering the Joy of Fasting by at —“Because of the period spent fasting during Lent, the feasting of Easter brings with it paramount joy, especially when coupled with love! Lent and winter are reminders that when we try to remain in perpetual feast, the gifts lose meaning. Self-denial can center God squarely in our lives and reorient true joy in both fast and feast, causing our cups to overflow.”

Building a Home with a Heritage of Faith by at —this piece was so thoughtful! And so in line with my heart for this space here and our future offerings.

Babies may not remember later on, but they absolutely absorb what they experience by at …to be honest, it is this type of post that keeps me going as a SAHM, pointing to many of the truths from ’s book Being There that I devoured when our first was born.

of asks Is it possible to ditch the grocery store?

The Mother’s Day “opt-out” emails are already trickling into my inbox and I have….thoughts. But before I collect them and (perhaps) share publicly, I’ve been reflecting on this thoughtful piece by Agnes Howard at Comment.

This list of Favorite Bible Books and Podcasts for Children over at Treehouse Schoolhouse is such a great compilation!

What Horticulture Can Teach Us About Our Path to Holiness by Delphine Chui at Catholic Women in Business

Spring Planting | Preparing the Herb Garden at Hillside Farm—a fun little Youtube episode by Ruth McKeaney at Hungry For Home. All of her content is so earnest and intentional!

I hate a mess. I would consider myself a moderately “highly sensitive person” and accordingly, mess, clutter and visual noise drives me absolutely bonkers. I value rhythm, organization and tidiness and would without a doubt be a bit of an anxious mess without my striving to keep a relatively orderly home.

Yet, there are many things that I love that stand in stark contrast to the mess-hating—books (so. many. books!), magazines, journals and writing with pen and paper, baking, flower arranging, gardening, farm animals—namely horses, but for now, chickens—home design and moving furniture all about, wrapping paper, hosting parties and having people over….

…and most of all, my children.

Yes, my children are among the treasures I love most, preceded only in importance by my God and my husband, and yet they leave all about our home a hefty trail of flotsam each and every day without exception.

Construction paper, markers without tops, muddy, chicken-poop cover wellies, old socks, stuffed animals, pieces of games and puzzles that are being used for something else in a different imaginary game, action figures, popsicle sticks glued together, wrapped with colored masking tape and tied with string that I am absolutely not allowed to touch or clean up after bedtime, teeny tiny Maileg Mouse clothes and Calico Critter forks and knives and plates, sidewalk chalk, rocks, pinecones, sticks…I could go on. Any mother could go on…

In the pursuit of liturgical living, there are scraps abundant, as well. Wax candle drippings on the candlesticks and the table and the tablecloth (and, look! a chunk of wax here in the toy box, too!), Christmas decorations, pine needles, dough residue, so much flour, craft cut-outs, dried and dead flowers, an open prayer book with a page torn out from the baby, a children’s Bible, tissue paper, yarn, coloring sheets, seasonal storybooks, peg people.

And let’s not forget how extra-liturgical special occasions and family traditions bring their own unique brand of destruction to the table—wrapping paper and balloons and party hats and cups and a messy kitchen from cooking up three special, child-requested meals plus a birthday cake, burnt up sparklers, old bottles of sunscreen, bubble wands without a home, a dirty, deflated baby pool in the front yard at summer’s end, unpacked suitcases, half-rotten pumpkins, old halloween candy, sheets of paper stamped with tiny painted hands that have been decorated to look like a turkey, baptismal gowns and baby shoes—worn once, but to be kept and treasured forever—New Years glasses and noisemakers, class Valentines and conversation hearts.

As we seek to cultivate our home and family life, to build a family culture worth coming back to, a childhood worth replicating, and a legacy of faith worth leaving behind, I am learning/trying to submit to the simple fact that there will be scraps.

Much like in our spiritual lives and how the messy, nonlinear act of continual and often painful pruning clears the way for our bearing of good fruit, the making of mess is a necessary byproduct of a family’s pursuit of a faithful, intentional and meaningful life.

Even in the pursuit of the spiritual, there is so much material.

It wouldn’t be a post on this topic if we didn’t point to Proverbs 14:4, beloved by mothers and fathers deep in the trenches of parenthood, which instructs, “Where there are no oxen, the manger is clean, but abundant crops come by the strength of the ox.”

This doesn’t mean we throw any and all sense of order and tidiness and the beauty that comes with it out the window, writing a disastrous-to-the-point-of-unwelcoming-and-unhealthy-and-anxiety-producing home and the laziness that caused it off as simply the result of giving our kids a great childhood. It does mean learning to accept the scraps, the mess, the clutter—whatever you want to call it—that necessarily comes with actually living life together as a family in a home.

We live in a world which was created to be intentionally embodied and tactile, so it would make sense that there would be no fruitfulness to be had here—in family life or otherwise—without our having to reckon with the management of what is material.

But with this reality comes great encouragement, because just a few paces ahead of the detritus of family life, one would hope/expect to find an intentional, legacy-minded family in pursuit of Jesus, creativity, memory-making, nourishing food, family dinners, community, service, learning, discipleship, feasting, fasting and fun.

I have a love/hate relationship with that post-dinner, pre-bedtime time of evening with littles where the dishes are stilled strewn about, the first few steps of the staircase are heaping with items that need to go up and everyone is wired. The two-year-old has now joined in the antics and the three of them just run, RUN, circles around the house shouting and dancing and rough housing. Some days, this overwhelms me to the point of an unkind or impatient word, but most days, I feel very grateful that they all exist, that they are happy and that God has entrusted their little souls into the hands of myself and my husband to steward for a while.

It’s that exhausted-almost-to-the-point-of-delirium time where the day is nearly over and in an hour or so the house will be hushed and life feels hard but so, so good.

In fact, it was at this exact time of day nearly a year ago when I decided that perhaps our family wasn’t quite complete yet, which feels ironic given the typical overwhelm and chaos of the situation coupled with my particular personality.

In a revelation that cannot be explained in human terms, I simply looked at the mess swirling around me and thought, “more of this, please.”

More construction paper scraps, more post-dinnertime chaos, more flour on the kitchen floor, more piles of children’s books strewn about, more nameless craft projects that are very, very special (ugh, yes, I guess even this), more unspeakably dirty boots in the mudroom…

More mess in exchange for a more meaningful life.

Links I Loved: A Few Good (Nearly Springtime) Things

Raise a Glass to St. Patrick by at

We are reading Charles Dickens’ The Life of Our Lord for our Lenten read aloud and were thrilled to learn that Angel Studios will be releasing their new animated film, The King of Kings, which is based on the book, around Easter! It is a delightful read that’s quickly becoming a family treasure we hope to make a tradition of reading every year.

My friend just launched a lovely new Substack and I’m excited to follow along. In her first post she’s given her home’s style a custom name and I’m inspired to think this through in our own home!

All the tips from for celebrating St. Patrick’s Day tomorrow!

Time Keeps on Slippin’ by Joe Duke at Front Porch Republic —“Today we live by the clock. Our activities and our lives are measured in precise moments. We’re time obsessed. And this obsession leaks out in everyday conversations. We take time, make time, buy time, spend time, invest time, lose time, keep time, kill time, serve time, and we FaceTime. Time is our preoccupation. Clocks are on our phones, around our wrists, in our schools, in our cars, and on the wall near the restrooms in Walmart. You would think with such precise timekeeping capabilities we would have equal mastery over our calendars. But it doesn’t seem to work that way. Before you know it, weeks pass, then months, then years. Then you wake up one day to find you’ve lived a lifetime.”

Mothering with Grace by at

and gave me a talking to on weight training and general fitness in their latest podcast episode. It has me thinking about what our own health and fitness has to do with generational faithfulness and how we owe it to our children/grandchildren/great-grandchildren to be fit for the life to which we have been called. Needless to say, the garage gym is happening once this baby is born.

This week in books…

As a self-proclaimed book hoarder, I’m going to try out ending these weekly round-ups with a list of books I bought/read/loved that week.

Hasn’t been a big week for reading, if I’m being honest, but we are loving this new children’s book for Lent and Holy Week—bright, fun, colorful and full of great information for living the season well.

Sometimes the best (or only) way to endure a change in the life of a family—whether significant or relatively small—is to simply submit to it and just wade our way right through whatever muck and mire stands between us and the other side. From labor and delivery and the earliest, sleep-deprived days of newborn life I stand in anticipation of at the present moment to the maddening twice-yearly time change that parents of young children are forced to embark upon, often, the only way out is through.

Sure, there are all kinds of tips circulating on how to prepare littles for the mini-seismic shift in their precious schedules that is daylight savings, but I’ve always found them a bit of a fool’s errand. In our house, we kind of just shift everything an hour all at once and endure a few awful naps (like the one going on in our two year-old’s nursery upstairs as I furiously type this out) and some extra singing and clanging around on the baby monitor late into the evening.

We’re in full-on nesting mode and so this week’s “We Always” will be brief, but with just a couple of weeks remaining until we welcome our newest baby, I wanted to offer a quick overview of all that is to come for Liturgy of Ours…the things I am hoping and praying and planning for, yet holding loosely as the shape of our family and home is poised to morph once again.

Still, the consistent writing, the research, the learning, the ideating, and the dreaming that has happened here has proven precious creative fuel for my present primary vocation as a mother and maker of our home and I am excited for where things are going.

First off, I have been having a handful of conversations with a dear friend who is so very talented in the content creation space, specifically when it comes to podcast production. And so there’s that on the horizon!

Fun fact: I have a (seemingly useless?) master’s degree in journalism and, as such, one of the things I find most life-giving is interviewing other people about their life/story/expertise/random thoughts on any given topic—particularly areas that I myself am hoping to learn and grow in.

I’ve found that when a writer or podcaster introspectively muses around in his or her own thoughts, feelings and opinions too much, it produces this kind of icky, navel-gazing echo chamber of perceived expertise that has said writer donning a crown of authority that he or she has not necessarily earned through those important things like experience and failure and victory and sheer hours put in. (*Tries really hard not to reference With Love, Meghan*…whoops!)

What’s more helpful, to me at least, is a thoughtful curation of voices speaking into a topic or topics who bring their own unique perspective or area of expertise to the table.

With the forthcoming Liturgy of Ours podcast, I hope to cultivate a community of experts on every aspect of liturgical living, family culture-building, meaningful traditions and legacy-minded living. There is so much to explore here, and, if I’m being honest, I’m already kind of tired of hearing myself talk about it. I am ready to learn from those who have gone before and to become better at shaping my own family’s legacy because of it.

Sound good?

In the meantime, as we prepare for our podcast launch, my hope is to continue to offer thoughtful content around all things family, liturgy, tradition, legacy and home, including regular “We Always Weekly'“ and monthly “Legacy-Minded Mother’s Guides” as well as intermittent essays on everything from how tradition and liturgy makes you better to the artist that helped birth the notion of an “idyllic childhood” to how I’m learning to accept the reality of scraps all over my house.

We’ll be exploring a mini series on Traditions of Virtue in the home as well as how mothers will (can, do) change the world in and through their homes, plus a simple “10 Questions With…” style written interview series with some of the guests I’m hoping to have on the podcast once it launches.

And beyond that? Well, there are a lot of ideas percolating…from e-commerce to merchandise to short form video to books. But that’s for another, less “about to have a baby” day.

Have an idea of the type of content you’d like to see here? Guides, tutorials, round-ups, ideas for celebrating both within the church calendar and throughout everyday life, product recommendations—everything is fair game! I’d love your feedback, so please drop a note in the comments.

For now, I am very grateful for how many of you have given me the honor of taking up space in your inboxes. I pray what we’re doing here is blessing you and your home and family.

Much love! J

Links I Love: A Few Good (Daylight Savings) Things:

What is ‘Nostalgia Gardening’ — And Why You Should Try It by Rachel Hardedge Barrett at Country Living

Passing On the Farm to My Daughter by James Rebanks at — Rebanks writes, “You can rule a family, or even a country, with fear, but to me that seems a pitiful kind of authority. When we lift up the people around us, below us, and younger than us, we build a whole that is greater than what was there previously. We are growing true wealth: happier and healthier humans and a community around us that is full of love. What other wealth is there that means anything?” —Few do legacy like farming families. I have loved reading the Rebanks’ books and following their journey. This was a great read (and one that further spurred my desire for a mini flock of our own).

A great Lent guide/homeschool theology supplement from St. John’s Vancouver and God’s Big Story

Beautiful Resources for Liturgical Celebrations at Home by

How Anglican Liturgy Stewards Our Emotions by Russell Vick at Anglican Compass

A recipe for Lenten soft pretzels by Kendra Tierney at Catholic All Year

This week in books…

As a self-proclaimed book hoarder, I’m going to try out ending these weekly round-ups with a list of books I bought/read/loved that week.

This week, in addition to the Lenten devotionals I shared last week, I’m loving this beautiful, fun Lenten devotional that takes no time to read, features fun art, and provokes some good thinking on common everyday vices, dreaming about the kitchen garden with and her lovely, helpful new book, and diving into the easy peasy cookbook I’ve been waiting for in this season of life with .

We’ve been experiencing a bit of whiplash as we emerge from February in our house, a month filled with illness, weather, and cancellations, plus a few bright spots—a fun family Valentine’s Day, a lovely brunch with a small group of dear friends to celebrate baby #4, and at least three 60+ degree days!

In truth, I have felt too tired to reflect, to draw parallels from mothering and making a home and living life that could translate to metaphors and anecdotes fit for the page. And, to my great frustration at 36 weeks pregnant, too tired to nest.

The instinct to gather and clean and organize and prepare as been strong, but not nearly as strong as my desire to nap.

But we’re turning a corner (I think? I hope?) and there, just around the bend, alongside my exceedingly long to-do list, sits Lent. As the mother, it falls primarily to me (a duty I accept with gladness and excitement…truly!) to implement this liturgical season in my home in a meaningful way—to fast, pray, and give as a unit with three small children ranging from 2 to 7.

It is hard not to view life in this season of mothering littles in winter as a fast in and of itself—one of constant self-denial, desperate prayers, and the giving, giving, giving of myself, my time, my resources…not to flatter myself in this situation, as I have met most days in February with a less-than-holy attitude, but it has struck me that there is perhaps no one who empties herself more than a sick, pregnant mother with sole charge over her family and home.

I was born on Maundy Thursday, have celebrated my birthday on Easter twice and during holy week countless times, and it has come to my attention that, in sharing a due date with my birthday, this baby’s special day will be inextricably tied to the season of Lent and Holy Week as mine has been. It is a sacred time for the Christian family, and a special time for our own little crew.

What’s more, this year in our home, nesting and fasting—two practices with similar ends—will converge as we make room, preparing our hearts, our home, and our souls for the promise of new life.

And so what is a contemplative mother to do but draw a parallel!?

Here goes…

In nesting we clean, declutter, organize—we make our home suitable for new life to dwell there—getting rid of what is not needed to clear the way for what is. For me, this has involved washing several loads of baby clothes, hanging pictures that have been leaning up against walls for months, sending my husband on trips to goodwill and the dump, clearing out and painting my “office” to make room for a nursery (is there anything more unrealistically optimistic than a stay-at-home mother who thinks that she’ll use a personal home office over say, the couch, the kitchen counter, or the steps on the front porch to accomplish her creative work outside motherhood?) and even a bathroom renovation!

It’s been a lot.

And in the midst of it all, how many times have I justified the chaos in saying/thinking, “I just want to be ready when the baby comes.”

Ready for what, exactly?

Ready to welcome her, to expand our hearts and our home, to continue living with some semblance of rhythm for the sake of her older siblings.

Ready for a fever, for a blow out, for our first outing as a family of six or my first time loading all four children in the car by myself.

Ready to continue feeding our family (which will be highly supplemented, I’m sure, by the gift of our church’s wonderful meal train ministry to new moms), to nurse with a rowdy, sticky toddler and two “bigs” smashed in all around me, to feed myself, to shower! ( has some precious and refreshingly practical advice on showering as a mother to littles here.)

Similarly yet obviously very distinctly, in our fasting we are getting ready, too. We seek to clear space and make room in our very souls for the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, for the deepening of our relationship with our Heavenly Father, and to hold the devastatingly beautiful reality of Jesus’ sacrifice and resurrection.

The point of a Lenten fast, as Danielle Hitchen points out in Sacred Seasons—is not a New Year’s reboot, a diet, punishment or a second crack at forming a new habit—but rather is intended to clear space for worship, for prayer, for relationship with God.

This year my personal fast will be marked by lifestyle and habit changes rather than food choices as I’ll be either pregnant or nursing for the duration of Lent, but I am starting to see how providentially these 40 days (46 including Sundays—on which we do not/should not fast!) leading up to Easter are in alignment with a new season of life for our family, and how the lenten practices of fasting, prayer and almsgiving might be more of a gift than I originally thought in preparing for a new baby, as well.

With every new birth, there is an opportunity for total reinvention. We are no longer the mother or the woman we once were. The actual shape of our family is different, as is the way we navigate the day to day.

In A Gift From the Sea, a classic read on womanhood, motherhood and family life, Anne Morrow Lindberg compares seasons of life to shells she encounters on a two week seaside getaway (how lovely for her!)…

It is an oyster, with small shells clinging to its humped back. Sprawling and uneven, it has the irregularity of something growing. It looks rather like the house of a big family, pushing out one addition after another to hold its teeming life - here a sleeping porch for the children, and there a veranda for the play-pen; here a garage for the extra car and there a shed for the bicycles. It amuses me because it seems so much like my life at the moment, like most women's lives in the middle years of marriage. It is untidy, spread out in all directions, heavily encrusted with accumulations....”

The irregularity of something growing—isn’t this so much like our spiritual journey as women and as mothers?

Rarely (if ever) in a perfect and tidy manner, the mother is forever denying self, praying, and giving on behalf of her family and community and the world. It’s in us to do so. And as ancient church tradition formally guides us through these practices, for me Lent is serving the blessed purpose of soul sharpening and expansion in preparation for both Jesus’ resurrection and the fourth child He has blessed our family with.

Nesting and fasting—two practices of preparation for the astounding gift of new life. One coming in the form of a baby that will take up more parts of us than we thought imaginable, the other, our own miraculous regeneration and renewal, made possible only through Christ’s sacrifice on Calvary and contingent on his resurrection on Easter Sunday.

I don’t wish to draw this metaphor out much further because, in truth, what could possibly compare to the victory we have through Jesus on Easter Sunday? Not even a precious newborn. Yet, I also hold the belief that all things point back to Him, even the washing of baby clothes, the clearing of drawers, the fitting of the car seat, the baking of bread to stick in the back of the freezer for the evenings when dinner isn’t coming together and we just need something that they’ll eat on the table.

In making room for those whom He died for, we make room for Him, too.

Links I love: a few good (Lenten) things

Found this adorable printable coloring page for kids to use as they walk the path of Lent

Some encouragement in turbulent times: Plant a Tree, Have a Baby, Build a House by Matthew Hosier at at Think Theology

Four Ways to Prepare Your Home for Lent by Danielle Hitchen of Catechesis Books

Almsgiving: The Neglected Practice of Lent by at

Let Your Future Self Be Loved by Claire Dwyer at Spiritual Direction—“What I’ve been convicted of is that my yes and no today protect and love the me of the future: “Let your ‘yes’ be ‘yes’ and your ‘no’, ‘no’. Anything else comes from the evil one.” (Matthew 5:27) This means our ‘yes’ and our ‘no’ must be discerned, firm, and joyful. They create boundaries designed by God, within which we flourish and thrive.”

We may be getting ahead of ourselves here, but this year I’m attempting a lamb cake for our Easter meal using this mold. Pinterest fail waiting to happen? Perhaps. But the prospect of it all is randomly giving me life right now. Feels very 1980’s Martha.

Speaking of Martha, I loved this post from on how to be a Martha now in order to be a Mary later.

This week in books…

As a self-proclaimed book hoarder, I’m going to try out ending these weekly round-ups with a list of books I bought/read/loved that week.

This week, I’m inviting Chesterton into my lenten study, learning the art of celebration from a beloved internet Grandma, and diving into this literary anthology for the season.

Valentine’s Day has come and gone with its special heart-shaped meals and secret mailbox notes and blush colored balloons and stories of a bishop who healed a blind girl and married soldiers illegally. I woke up sick this morning, at first thinking (praying) that the body aches I rolled out of bed with were just from my motherly exertion on a celebratory day whilst 34 weeks pregnant…turns out that’s not the case, but it’s a rainy Saturday at the time of this writing and as good a time to be sick as any and my husband is home from work and has taken charge. And so, tired, aching, and craving only pretzels and ginger ale, I had a moment to think about the way that we spend ourselves as mothers:

Physically, emotionally, mentally, financially, spiritually.

We are always cashing it in in one way or another on behalf of our children. And while the “self-care” movement loves to shout from the rooftops (particularly at tired moms) about giving yourself a break, simplifying endlessly and doing what’s easiest (and simplicity is a virtue in the home, it just doesn’t always mean what the latest IG reel says it does), I’ve found greater value in helping our children to understand their worth, how unconditionally they are loved, and in giving them that joyful and spiritually rich childhood that I wrote of in my last post—oftentimes at the expense of my own comfort and personal preference.

Way back in the day, when I worked in the humanitarian sphere in Washington, DC, I learned a phrase from the marketing and fundraising team at the nonprofit where I led public relations: “Surprise and delight.”

Surprise and delight is a marketing tactic used to keep customers/donors/constituents happy and coming back for more.

As much as I hate to, for today’s sick-in-bed purposes, let’s use Google’s AI feature to define said marketing tactic:

Surprise and delight is a marketing strategy that aims to create positive customer experiences and build brand loyalty. It involves offering unexpected rewards or experiences to customers.

How it works:

• Create memorable moments: Surprise and delight can create memorable moments that customers are more likely to remember.

• Build emotional connections: Surprise and delight can help build emotional connections between customers and brands.

• Increase customer loyalty: Surprise and delight can help increase customer loyalty and engagement.

• Foster brand awareness: Surprise and delight can help foster brand awareness and affinity.

I hardly feel the need to credit Google as they have decided that ripping from the work and research of others with zero visible accreditation is perfectly fine.

But I digress.

Creating memorable moments, building emotional connections, increasing loyalty and fostering “brand” (i.e. identity) awareness sounds a whole lot like the work of a mother in building family culture.

As legacy-minded mothers, we seek to create for our children a beautiful, memorable childhood and to use things such as traditions, experiences, rhythms, liturgy, catechism, etc. to build for them a sense of family identity.

Let’s briefly walk through each element of Google’s definition of “surprise and delight” and see how it applies to the family:

Create memorable moments: One of my chief joys as a mother is creating memorable moments for my kids. Birthday celebrations! Christmas morning! Summer vacation! Half birthdays! Baptism days! Let me at ‘em. They serve as markers of childhood and of life together in the home, happy times to reflect back on and to look forward to during difficult days or seasons (of which we have most certainly had our share). Selfishly, they are also a fun way for me to flex my creative muscles in the work of mothering and making a home. Creating “core memories” is all abuzz on the internet these days, made popular by the 2015 film Inside Out and its 2024 sequel, but unfortunately, we don’t ultimately get to choose what memories will last and which will fade or be altered by the mind of our children as their life progresses. All we can do is to create a suite of joyful, rich memories from which to draw that, taken together, form an atmosphere in the home that bolsters their hearts and minds with a sense of love, peace, joy, security and belonging.

Build emotional connections: Just as our very kind and merciful Father does with us, the generous lavishing of love whether in the form of meaningful traditions, fun experiences, actual gifts, intentional acts of service, or undeserved grace and forgiveness is a key means to building trust, honor and a feeling of belonging and security in a family. A poorly behaved child might not “deserve” an elaborate birthday display (or even a single gift) by the world’s standards, but what parent would withhold one anyway? God gives us many, many things we don’t deserve, and we love Him for it (this brings Matthew 7:9-11 to mind). We are consistently met with inexhaustible grace, mercy and forgiveness, undeserved blessing and unending love. The Lord builds a positive, secure emotional attachment with us, even through His rebuke and discipline, that altogether says “you are so very worth the effort.” Rewards undeserved and unexpected but there for the taking still. This can be mimicked in our own small way as mothers in the home as we aim to surprise and delight our children regardless of their behavior or what they have done in these sort of mini-prodigal son moments.

Increase customer (child) loyalty: Something I draw great inspiration from is observing families with grown or nearly grown children and the nature of their relationships once the children are no longer physically or financially dependent on the parents. One thing that I’ve noticed is that aside from having worked hard to build a strong family culture and bond in the little years, these parents continue to offer a culture of fun, of generosity (that often times is, but need not be financial), togetherness, tradition, practical, emotional and spiritual support. In other words, they lavish, they surprise, they delight, they set the stage—without undue pressure or nagging and with an understanding that their grown children will (and should) develop lives and families of their own—for joyful family memories that can be perpetuated and replicated from one generation to the next. And in exchange, I’ve found that their grown children want to be around them, to go on trips and celebrate holidays together, to come home often, and to share life together.

Foster brand awareness (aka family identity): There is something very grounding for a child about knowing and understanding who and whose they are. For Christian families, this begins with the knowledge and love of God and a grasp of his adoption of us all as sons and daughters (God has no grandchildren!). But mother and father image to their children the way that their heavenly Father cares for them, and can instill a sense of identity and belonging in the home through the establishment of the things we always do. This allows a child to place themselves within the the narrative of their own God-given family which in turn provides a context for their place in the story of God and His people—the church. A strong, loving, family identity and culture provides a foundation. The practice of surprise and delight in the home affirms and strengthens a family identity that is loving, thoughtful, compassionate, joyful and fun. It tells children—though spouses absolutely benefit from honoring each other in this way, as well—that they are worth the extra effort, the lavishing, the extravagance, the love, no matter what they have done and solely because they are members of a given family. This is how our Father views us as children, too.

The church calendar offers plenty an opportunity for celebration, for a chance to surprise and delight, as do family celebrations that fall outside of the context of any sort of formal liturgy—birthdays, summer break, Thanksgiving, the start of each season, random Tuesdays…

In a recent post which served to affirm much about the way I think about motherhood and family life, writes:

Now of course, inevitably, some will object that so much holiday effort should not be dispensed upon either children or husbands who fail to return affection in kind. I cannot help you with this problem; the reasons for maternal depression and burnout are myriad. But on the surface, this strategy of withholding love until we first receive sufficient amounts seems iffy at best. I think the mother teaches the family how to love, and that role is there for us to perform, whether or not we had it performed for us in our own youth.

If we sit ourselves down and really think about it, we can come up with something to do to mark the passing of time, and the diminishing of the number of days we have left with all our children at home, and let whatever feelings of exhaustion or bitterness that come alongside Valentine’s Day just lie there, as they are. Building an adequate home culture for our children, teaching them to love, is essential for their development whether or not we feel equal to the task.

A culture of surprise and delight in the home is indeed essential for their development, but the best part, as Lane also points out in her post, is that it need not cost a thing (so long as you have flour and butter and sugar and food coloring (natural, of course!!!) and maybe some balloons or dollar store trinkets.

I put little Valentines in my kids’ mailboxes (more on that tradition here) every day of February up until the 14th made up entirely of things foraged from our home. Lollipops, old little figurines from my childhood, leftover bubbles from a birthday party accompanied by doily heart notes with clever puns I pulled from the internet.

And I think they loved this even more than the grand display of balloons and Squishmallows and fancy food I set up on Valentine’s Day morning.

(Core?) memory made.

Links I love: A few good (family culture-building) things

I can’t put down this read by David McAlvany on leaving an intentional legacy. McAlvany is a financial advisor who specializes in intergenerational wealth management, but the book offers so much more than that as he utilizes a “redemptive ethic” in his outlining of the practical ingredients of a lasting legacy.

Opening Ceremonies in the Mom Olympics by Lane Scott at — I just discovered Lane’s Substack and this is the first in a great series on family culture and traditions. She writes, “Christianity is an intellectual faith; our Catechism and our apologetics are a key part in passing our faith to our children. But let’s not kid ourselves. The Mom Olympics is what the kids will remember. It is what they will wish to pass on to their own children. Christianity is a faith in practice, and a culture of a particular people. It is not simply book learning. The creative genus required of Christian women involves setting a stage and fleshing out what this faith looks like when lived out. What outward signs can we create to signify the spiritual reality of what we are celebrating for our children? How can we enchant the very little and the very old; how do we reacquaint the cynical or the preoccupied family member with the delights of our faith, year after year?”

My Own Personal Desert by Jeannie Rose Barksdale at Plough — I was delighted to see that this thoughtful piece was penned by a former co-worker who writes, “If I cannot have actual silence and solitude, I can find in the very constraints preventing this an opportunity to surrender. The unrelenting demands of domestic life can bring me to the end of myself as surely as can solitude and silence. What if I make these demands my own personal desert? What if I choose, as a spiritual practice, to stop resisting? What if surrendering to the mundane I long to escape is the seed of what I want most?”

How to Design a Vegetable Garden by Sally Coulthard at Country Living UK

100 Things for Kids to Give Up (or Take up) for Lent by Kristy Fiely at Love & Messiness - We are starting to think about Lent in our home (post forthcoming!) but I loved this list and the idea of putting different child-friendly ideas for fasting in a jar.

take on a nostalgic Seven Layer Salad over at —making this to go with our Sunday soup and sourdough tonight!

And finally, just for fun, a favorite candle for this time of year, a romper I bought on major sale as I look forward to returning to an easy, springy, post-pregnancy style, and a fun playlist that’s keeping things bright as we navigate these cold, rainy February days.

Next week, we turn our attention to the Lenten season and to all things March as The Legacy-Minded Mother’s™ guide returns for a second installment!

When it comes to commercialized American holidays, Valentine’s Day ranks pretty high. What with the high fructose and the cheaply made teddy bears and the prix fixe menus and the horrible puns and the high expectations…it’s enough to give even the most sentimental among us a sugar hangover.

But does it have to be this way? And if not, what are the alternatives?

Speaking frankly, our culture has a big baby/bath water problem. When something, once rich in meaning, becomes unbearably corrupted by our consumerist, secular, heavily commercialized culture, we cede all ground, cut our losses and move on with an air of righteous indignation.

“We will not get a Christmas tree”

“We will not dress up for Halloween"

“We will not dye Easter eggs”

Whatever it is, we love to come up with the “old pagan festival” that has been co-mingled with a Christian celebration or feast day and use those muddied historical waters to justify our doing away with “x” practice or tradition completely in an attempt to be set apart, to be “in the world but not of it”.

But as we casually rail against a celebration that finds its origins in Christianity, despite how it has been twisted or altered by the culture, we are forgetting that the Christian story is one of redemption, reclamation and restoration to all as it should be.

This past All Hallow’s Eve, Esau McCauley wrote for the New York Times,

I find kids decked out in the clothing of action heroes and book characters charming. The endless stream of social media posts from friends and family brings a smile to my face every year. Nonetheless, there is something fleeting about the holiday. Costumes that are funny one year feel dated by the next. That is why I’m drawn to the original and more weighty purpose of Halloween: It was meant to be a day set aside to remember the saints.

On the Christian calendar stretching back centuries, Halloween is the day before All Saints Day. (Halloween is a contraction of “all hallows,” or “all saints,” evening.) The holiday, then, is intended to inspire imitation, not of villains, goons and goblins but of lives of heroic virtue and service. The Catholic Church, where the holiday originated, has a formal process for choosing saints that involves final approval by the pope. The Protestant tradition, of which I am a part, is much less structured. Our saints are recognized by widespread affirmation of the lasting impacts of their lives.”

It remains true that even the darkest depths to which some practices on Halloween have plunged cannot change the beautiful origins of this celebration anymore than a megachurch pastor’s scandalous fall from grace can discredit the God he claimed to serve.

So, while the origins of Valentine’s Day and the feast of St. Valentine are a bit murky, we know enough about the life of this priest to know that he made great sacrifices—ultimately becoming martyred—all in the name of Christ-like love. And the earliest celebrations of his feast day recognized the role of Valentine in performing Christian marriages in defiance of a decree to prevent soldiers from marrying by Roman Emperor Claudius II. Both the self-sacrificial love we find modeled in Christ and the championing of Christian marriages are something that our present culture might prefer we forget completely and, as such, to either give up on such a celebration completely or to give in to its seemingly inevitable fate to be swallowed up by Hallmark in its entirety, is to wave the white flag unnecessarily.

Instead, we might consider another way—educating ourselves on the origins of the holiday within the context of our faith, assigning it the appropriate nomenclature (think St. Valentine’s Day instead of Valentine’s Day or All Hallow’s Eve instead of Halloween), and infusing it with meaningful, historical traditions that—as all good traditions, whether within or outside of the official church calendar, should—orient our hearts back to our Creator and to the love of neighbor.

When we prepare a special breakfast for our families, plan a meal or an outing with our spouse, write a thoughtful note to a friend, read the story of St. Valentine aloud as a family, or memorize 1 Corinthians 13 with our kids, we are intentionally claiming space and time in the name of greatest of the Christian virtues: love. We’re replacing flimsy, hollow declarations of affection with authentic love-in-action and Russel Stover boxes with the Bread of Life.

What a joy!

Links I love: A Few Good (St. Valentine’s Day) Things

Valentine and the Christian Transformation of Marriage by Peter Johnston at Anglican Compass

This Valentine’s Day, It’s All About Fondue by Julie Vadnal at Food52 - THANK YOU. Quick, someone tell my husband.

Making your family SING! on the Homemaker Chic Podcast - This podcast episode with , and was everything: Traditions, passing down the faith, heritage, “an heirloom-quality life…” my goodness.

Timber Framing with Teenagers by Clem Robertshaw at Plough - “When people use their hands to create something of value and longevity, the work is its own reward. You don’t need to praise these kids. They’re creating something that hopefully their grandchildren will be coming to look at.”

Life During Ordinary Time by Deacon Michael Bickerstaff at Integrated Catholic Life - “That’s what happens in this earthly life—we move through time. We mark moments in time that represent important events. Time is one of the essential elements by which we measure our lives. The passing birthdays and anniversaries, major news events, historical memorials, seasons of the year—all provide a rhythm to our lives.”

Where Should We Raise Our Children? by at Matriarch Goals (another very worthwhile 2023 read from Lane— The Mother’s Gauntlet at The American Mind—perspective-altering).

In Praise of the Inefficient by Ethan Jones at Front Porch Republic

And finally, a favorite St. Valentine children’s book and an heirloom-quality decoration for the season.

Happy Sunday, Happy Candlemas, Happy February! After what seems like a collectively *challenging* January, spring feels moderately within reach and the longer days are lightening my steps even as I grow physically larger with each passing day.

This past Friday, we celebrated our baby turning two (!!), just two months out from welcoming another sweet baby girl into the world. Despite a rather disruptive (but exciting!) bathroom renovation, we celebrated with our typical birthday traditions—blowing up tons of balloons and tossing them in the birthday boy or girl’s room in the middle of the night for them to wake up to in the morning, a beautifully decorated table displaying all of their birthday gifts (one larger gift is always unwrapped, like on Christmas), the child’s choice meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner, a homemade birthday cake eaten off of our Family Birthday Plate, a special happy birthday sign displayed on our frame TV, and praying a Birthday Collect from The Book of Common Prayer over the child.

And I have to say, I was reminded that yet another reasons why tradition, liturgies and “the things we always do” are such a gift to the mother, specifically the mother of many young children, is because they just get so much easier the more you do them. Practice makes perfect is true when it comes to traditions, too. Though I typically attempt to match the level of celebration to the age and personality of each child—our eldest is a celebrator by nature and will always want a giant birthday party that she mostly plans herself, our son prefers an outing or experience, complete with a visit to some sort of gift of toy store, and a two year-old, I’ve learned, does not necessarily require an over-the-top event that will leave me exhausted and unable to enjoy the milestone with her—and try to oblige each one’s wishes and desires as we drive home the sacredness of their being born, the gift they are to our family, their community and to the world, the plans God has for their life, and the good things he has pre-ordained for them to do, now, after celebrating 14 collective children’s birthdays, it’s getting easier for one simple reason: this is what we always do.

Operating a bit on autopilot, I pull out the birthday box from the storage room—stuffed to the brim with banners and balloons, make the sign, grab the tried-and-true cake recipe, watch as my husband dutifully blows up dozens of balloons, thank God for the gift of my child as we sleepily push our grown-up bedtime another hour or two to get everything ready.

I’m hoping to do a deeper dive on the theology of birthdays in another post, but for this week I want to turn our attention to a guiding symbol for Liturgy of Ours: the candle.

As I’ve written previously a lit candle is the beacon of nearly every tradition, celebration, and liturgical moment. It is a symbolic pronouncement of one of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s most oft-quoted proclamations “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.”

But to what light are we referring, where does it come from, and why does it matter to our homes and families?

Today, the church calendar marks Candlemas, or the Presentation of Our Lord at the Temple and the Purification of Mary. There are others far more qualified to delve into the history and practices of this liturgical tradition, but here is the gist: 40 days after His birth, per Jewish custom, Jesus was taken to be presented in the temple in what is the final epiphany of His infancy. It is a revelation of Christ as Light—to gentiles as well as Jews. In scripture, this presentation culminates in the Nunc Dimittis, the song of Simeon, found in Luke 2:29-32. Yet another promise is fulfilled, and we celebrate and proclaim, “Jesus is the Light of the World!” Ancient church tradition dictates that candles (of at least 51% beeswax!) are brought to the Candlemas service and blessed for the coming year to be used in the family home.

We are very new to this tradition and church feast day, and this is in fact the first year we’ll celebrate it in earnest, but it feels very good and right to do so. To bless the vessels that will pronounce throughout the year that indeed, Jesus is the light of the world.

Candles, too, remind us that in Him, we are to be the light.

Before turning my vocational attention primarily to my children and home, I worked in the humanitarian sphere in public relations and communications. When I transitioned to being at home, I struggled to see whether my work creating memories, cultivating family culture, building traditions, raising my children was changing the world at all.

Now I see that it is actually the primary vehicle for doing so.

In our house, when we light a candle for advent or for morning prayer, the kids know to say “Jesus is the light of the world” and in their understanding of this concept lies they key to legitimate world change—because every compassionate action, humanitarian effort, demonstration of love of neighbor, whole and wholesome family that will perpetuate said love throughout the generations lies downstream of a child (or adult’s) understanding that they are to be bearers of this light of Christ in their lives and homes.

Likewise, when we do good, and when we create a family culture that inspires our children to do the same, we are pointing back to the light Himself.

So, candlelight, whether on an average Tuesday, or at an Easter Vigil—the culmination of celebration and rejoicing for Christians around the world—is our reminder of these two truths: Christ as light and our call to reflect that light—to be his hands and feet—in the world.

The practice of lighting a candle, formalized in our liturgy and in our traditions, reinforces this concept in the hearts and minds of children.

Like school children singing “this little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine…” even the light of a single candle portrays our humble insistence that goodness has won. And like the sacramental moments they illuminate, candles act as a sort of visible sign of an invisible reality, one that proclaims “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:15).

To light a birthday candle, a firework, a paschal candle, a votive at a vigil, an advent wreath, or even (perhaps, especially) a candle of remembrance at a funeral service or celebration of life, is to stake a victory flag in the ground. To advance the common good. To declare that darkness has not and will not win.

Though candles, like our many traditions and liturgical practices, by themselves mean nothing—just wax and air and gas and combustion—when infused with the understanding of Jesus as the light of the world and our subsequent assignment to reflect that light in and through our homes, families and our seeking to do all things for the glory of God and the good of others, they are a mighty defense, a powerful weapon, a daily reminder of our ultimate charge and how it can be accomplished through celebration, through remembering, through the simplicity of striking a match, holding it to a wick, and watching our children’s faces illuminate with the wonder of it all.

Jesus is the light of the world.

Links I love: A few good (Candlemas) things…

The Presentation of Our Lord, The Message of Candlemas by Justin Clemente at Anglican Compass

Candlemas by Denise Trull at The Inescapist

A Prayer for Candlemas by Danielle Hitchen at Catechesis Books

Claiming Groundhog Day by Clare Coffey at Plough — “Sometimes you doubtless have to cut down a sacred oak, but in my books it’s better to consecrate it. This is our Father’s world, not the demons’ or even the powers and principalities’; everything in it belongs to him.” Hear-hear!

How to Raise Readers, In Thirty-Five Steps by Brad East at Front Porch Republic

Lamplighter Kids Podcast: Stories that Light the Way to Virtues by Ashley Anthony at Story Warren — I’m always looking for creative ways to integreat teaching the virtues to our kids and can’t wait to add this to our podcast rotation!

Jane Austen Against the Smartphone by John Byron Kuhner at First Things — “In its worst forms, social media is the technology of vanity, an electronic global network dedicated to “what we would have others think of us.” It separates the kernel from the husk and prizes the husk.”

Today’s round-up is a short one after a week packed with some aggressive nesting, house projects, homeschooling, adjusting as a family to my husband’s new job, and feeling every bit of 2 months out from welcoming baby #4.

I’m not at all one for internet/Instagram trends—posting this first photo in your favorites album or subscribing to a certain formatting of reels (or any reels at all, for that matter…) They seem to cheapen reality, as does much of social media, reducing our actual lives to a a series of photos or a video lasting no longer than a minute. But one particular trend that has been making the rounds this January I’ve found (embarrassingly) fun….useful, even: in-and-out lists.

Let me explain.

Like a palette cleanser for what’s trending, these lists have been the New Year’s social media post du jour for a few years past (so much so that even the New York Times and Vogue have taken note).

And while they can come across slightly haughty at times in their arrogant, navel-gazing assertions, I think there is something deeper to what the lists’ authors are trying to communicate. Within a given in-and-out list’s seemingly unconsidered, pithy phrases is a more nuanced sense of broader cultural evolution, pointing in their own small way to where we’ve been and looking towards where we’re going.

Much like the Pantone color of the year, they are an attempt to make tangible and visible what are otherwise (and perhaps meant to be) intangible notions of our collective direction—or rather what a given in-and-out list’s author thinks should be our collective direction, offering a glimpse into the tenor of the times from a particular perspective.

And while many of these lists are quite shallow and downright silly, I actually think the exercise of making one, whether for private or public consumption, can be helpful in unearthing subconscious priorities and nailing down trends in our thinking of how we’d like to move forward in our pursuit of virtue and goodness and holiness or, becoming more of who we were created to be.

So, in addition to our usually weekly round-up and to wrap up the month that begins the year, I made a quick, completely just for fun, list of my own, specific to the interests of this space: liturgical living, meaningful tradition-making, family-culture cultivating, legacy-building, etc.

After making this list, I sat with it for a few minutes in an attempt to deduce any sort of a thread or theme for guiding our year as a family and what stood out was a sense of simplicity, authenticity, history and heritage—things that have real staying power as they remind us where we come from, what we’re made for and where we’re going and why.

Would love to hear your 2025 “ins” and “outs” in the comments!

Links I love: A few good (mid-winter) things

The Wedding at Cana and Why I’m Anglican by David Roseberry at The Anglican — “As Anglicans, we cherish our beautiful liturgies and ancient traditions, but we know they’re not ends in themselves. They are dead vessels waiting to be filled with new wine—ordinary containers ready for extraordinary grace.” Will be writing more on the topic of celebration in the coming weeks, but loved every bit of this post that gave so much language to what I love about being Anglican.

What is Liturgical Living? by Ashley Wallace at The Liturgical Home

How to Make: Ina’s Lemon Chicken by the Cheese Gal

The Power of Remembering Through Traditions by Jessica Smartt at Proverbs31 —a five year-old post that’s still worth a read!

Books and Projects for Valentine’s Day by Jennifer Pepito at The Peaceful Press

The historic case for leaving your Christmas decorations up until February by Ainsley Hawthorn at CBC

Ralph Lauren, American Patriot by Isabella Redjai at First Things

Until next time!

J

I write today from another frigid day in central Virginia, and even though we managed to escape another predicted snow day, I am still inside surrounded by the endless enthusiasm of my children. The restlessness of winter has begun to set in.

Two and a half hours north, my former home of Washington, DC is bustling with preparations for the inauguration and celebration of the 47th President of the United States. And with it, I feel a sense of relief…not to turn things political (this is not the space for that, though I will always manage to find plenty of outlets that most certainly are), but because there seems to be a shift in the ether that affirms my desire to prioritize and value my children, making a home and family life.

As 2025 began, Epiphany brought with it a clean blanket of snow that gave way to seemingly endless snow days where we live in central Virginia and along much of the mid-Atlantic. I don’t know why it always surprises me but, per usual, with these snow days came a slew of comments across Instagram and the broader online space about how parents just cannot stand to be home one more minute with their kids.

I don’t fault anyone behind these comments, as I know many of them are said in a sort of jest, or at least in an outreach for parental unity as those of use with young kids navigate the hard and the holy together. And I, as much as the next mother, need breaks—not from my children, per se, but from the overstimulation that comes from many young children in a home in the middle of winter. I’m wired in such a way that I deeply desire long stretches of time to think, contemplate, ideate and plan—a desire that I expect will remain largely unfulfilled over the coming years, despite my sweet husband’s best effort to give me weekend days (and the occasional solo night in a lovely hotel) to do just that.

But there is still something about the overarching narrative that we deserve to be away from them that feels as though it could be contributing to a generation of children who feel more unease and discontent over their place in the world than ever before.

Even if whispered behind closed doors, the air of “Get these kids out of the house—they’re someone else’s problem now!” can be felt in a home.

It was felt during the pandemic.

It is felt yearly as the end of summer break approaches.

And it makes me wonder how many children will be able to experience the full joy of a snow day—the joy that is so very nostalgic from many of our own childhood snow days—when they know that their sloshy, sticky presence is not entirely welcome because of the way it has caused their mother or father, or both, to unexpectedly rearrange their day.

C.S. Lewis is often quoted as saying “Children are not a distraction from the most important work, they are the most important work,” (though some debate its actual origins...)

Either way, I love this quote—whomever actually said it—and believe it to be true.

Yet the refrain that rings so clearly in my mind when I find myself frustrated with limited time in which to accomplish an unrealistically lengthy to-do list, wishing for more alone time, or that they would just kind of stop asking questions and just...scoot.

It’s their life, too.

This is their life. The first pages of which we are almost entirely tasked with writing on their behalf.

Yet in today’s over-scheduled, over-committed, self-centric society, those first pages often read more like a case study from a child psychology book to be written 30 years in the future than they do a whimsical fairytale storybook…and we wonder how we are raising a generation of anxious, depressed, addicted kids.

Again—I don’t doubt that every single parent who has ever grumbled about the burden of raising children more than they have expressed gratitude for the blessing and privilege of doing so (myself included) loves their children dearly and would give absolutely anything for their health, happiness and well-being. But the words we say, in our homes and online, do still actually matter, and creating a digital paper trail documenting our disdain of their presence feels…icky? and not at all like the kind of world within which it seems feasible for any human to thrive, much less a child.

Coupled with a society that has become increasingly hostile to any notions of family life, children, homemaking, etc. (though I predict an absolute about-face in this thinking in the coming years) much of public discourse has become suffocating to the mother who wishes to infuse her home and children’s lives with meaning and memories for the purpose of launching faithful, virtuous people into the world.

And herein lies the driving force behind what I hope to do here at Liturgy of Ours—because meaningful traditions and liturgical living make strong, beautiful family cultures, and strong, beautiful family cultures make happy, healthy homes, and happy, healthy homes churn out more capable, courageous, compassionate children, and capable, courageous, compassionate children make a better world.

Every mother and parent will fall short of the call to give their children the very best of themselves every day. We will grumble, we will fail to look up from our phones when they ask a question, we will choose what is easy over what is intentional, though hard. It is inevitable in our broken world. But the most encouraging part? His mercies are new each morning and we are never denied a fresh start, especially when it comes to our homes and families.

Nunc coepi, a Latin phrase and motto of the Saints that I’m embracing this year (dare I claim it as my “word” for 2025?)

“Now I begin.”

As far as snow days are concerned, our rituals around them are about as classic as they come. Sledding down our big front hill, making snow ice cream (actually so good…) and snow angels, building a tiny snowman before we run out of steam and retire inside for hot cocoa and a final viewing of a few favorite Christmas movies. I’ve included my very simple hot cocoa recipe below and can honestly say it is the singular thing I’m craving the most this pregnancy.

These odd in-between, seemingly un-special days—the cold days, snow days, rainy days and sick days, are ripe for the formation of family traditions outside of the formality of the liturgical year (as lovely as it is) and beyond the pressure of annual milestone events: birthdays, summer vacations, Thanksgiving, etc.

Their creation may be by beautiful happenstance, but oftentimes it’s those things that maintain their staying power for decades, perhaps even rolling into future generations to come.

Links I love: A few good (cold day/snow day/first day) things:

Not a link, exactly, but I’ve been so moved by the response of communal prayer and faithfulness surrounding this little boy, who happens to be a new friend of mine’s nephew. Lifting Joe’s sweet family up in prayer and just wanted to honor his life and the impact it has made on so many in his short time here.

Wisdom from Ashes: A Family Reflects on Losing Their Home by Noelle Mering at Theology of Home

Now, this piece literally comes from the blog of a company from which I once bought a part for our chicken coop…but I LOVED IT (Also such a great example of companies creating quality, useful content that is tangential to their brand): Life Skills to Teach Our Children at Shed Windows and More (!!!)

Make Buildings Beautiful Again — a great listen over on the First Things podcast

What to Do With Little Children at Home by Emily Phillips at A Warm Hearth

Channeling Mrs. Hall by Rachel Reeves at Rachel Reeves….writes — Anyone who knows me knows that every January my entire personality is consumed by the remake of All Creatures Great and Small on PBS Masterpiece. Rachel’s reflection on what we can learn from the beloved Mrs. Hall is a delight.

The Great Reset with Ruth McKeaney at Hungry for Home — ever since my husband gifted me Ruth’s book a few years ago on my birthday, I have loved following her and gleaning her wisdom on creating an intentional family culture and home. Her short youtube videos are approachable and endearing.

There’s No Place Like Home by Ivana Greco at Front Porch Republic — “Re-prioritizing the home and family is a cultural project, one that so far much of popular media seems disinclined to tackle.” Wow. This one’s so good.