Summer Intentions

Not because life suddenly becomes less busy, but because the longer days invite me to slow down and notice what has been there all along.

This season has been filled with some of our family’s sweetest moments.

Just a few weeks ago, we celebrated our son Samuel’s marriage to his beautiful bride, Anna. Watching them begin this new chapter was a sacred reminder of how life continues to unfold in beautiful ways. As parents, there is no greater joy than watching your children grow into the people God created them to be and seeing them build lives rooted in love, faith, and commitment.

After the excitement of the wedding, we packed up and headed to one of our favorite places, our little lake house in Kentucky.

If you’ve followed me for any length of time, you know this place has become more than a destination. It has become a sanctuary.

Every Fourth of July, we open our doors, fill the beds and air mattresses, set extra places around the table, and welcome family and friends. Mornings begin on the porch, starting at the coffee and tea bar, then unfolding into thoughtful conversations before floating and jumping into the lake on 90+ degree days, taking boat rides, playing card games, and laughing that echoes across the lake and carries into bedtime.

This year felt especially meaningful. It was not only about celebrating 250 years as a country; it was about who was there.

For the very first time since purchasing the house, all of our children were together under one roof to celebrate Independence Day. My sister and brother-in-law also joined us this year, which made the weekend feel complete.

As darkness settled over the water, we gathered outside to watch our neighbors’ spectacular fireworks reflected over the lake.

These moments grow more precious as our families expand, marriages begin, careers develop, and calendars fill up. Because nothing stays the same forever, these gatherings mean even more.

One of my favorite parts of every lake weekend happens before anyone else wakes up: the water resting like glass, and the morning sky reflected as though heaven itself had settled gently onto the lake.

No rushing, no notifications demanding attention. Only stillness.

And in that quiet, I feel God reminding me that His greatest gifts are often found in the ordinary moments we notice.

Over this past year, I’ve sensed something changing within me.

For the last 10 years, I have shared so much of my life online. I’ve documented milestones, everyday moments, celebrations, and lessons learned. While I still love encouraging others through writing, I’ve noticed a quiet shift in my own heart toward less outward posting and more inward hospitality.

Less pressure to capture every beautiful moment, and more freedom to fully live it.

I’ve come to see hospitality not simply as opening our home but as protecting the atmosphere within it. Creating spaces where people feel welcomed, known, rested, and loved has become one of the greatest joys of this season.

It feels like a gift God has entrusted to me.

Ironically, taking fewer photos has made the ones I do share even more meaningful. Instead of experiencing life through a camera lens, I’m finding myself fully present in conversations, lingering around the table a little longer, laughing a little harder, and storing memories somewhere no photograph could ever preserve.

Some moments are simply meant to be lived. As I welcome summer this year, I also welcome a renewed intention.

To choose connection over criticism, hospitality over hurry, and stillness over striving.

Because when all is said and done, I don’t believe we’ll remember perfectly curated feeds or endless accomplishments. I believe we’ll remember the people who sat beside us on quiet mornings, who laughed until late into the night, who celebrated life’s milestones with us, and who reminded us, simply by their presence, that we were never meant to do life alone.

Maybe that’s why I crave summer so much, because it brings that truth into focus for me.

And for that, I am deeply grateful.

So here’s to slowing down, welcoming people well, protecting what matters most, and fully embracing people, places, and moments.