Category Archives: Simple Joys & Everyday Blessings

What Children and Dogs Can Teach Us About Joy

Earlier this week, as I was walking to my car after school, another teacher was heading out beside me. She laughed and said how the kids had just shouted her name—again—from across the parking lot. They’d already spent the entire day with her, but they were still bursting with excitement just to wave one more time.

That stayed with me.

There’s something so honest about the enthusiasm of children. They don’t hide their joy. They don’t hold back their hearts. Their love is simple and big and unfiltered. And I found myself thinking—when did we start holding ours back?

Rediscovering Joy in the Everyday

As we grow older, we tend to quiet our excitement. Life weighs in, responsibilities grow, and suddenly we forget how to delight in the little things. Even teenagers, with all their beautiful complexity, often lose that carefree joy that once came so naturally.

But what if we could get some of it back?

Children find joy in the tiniest of moments—a butterfly out the window, a new eraser, a familiar face at dismissal. Their hearts are still wired for wonder. And maybe ours are, too, buried under the noise and the lists and the expectations.

Lessons from the Leash: A Dog’s Delight

It’s the same kind of joy I see in my dogs.

I could walk out to the mailbox and be gone for four minutes, and when I return, it’s as if I’ve been away for years. They greet me with tails wagging and hearts full. Every single time.

It doesn’t matter how long I was gone. They’re just happy I’m home. Their enthusiasm is immediate. Pure. Unconditional. And somehow, it mirrors the same kind of wholehearted love I see in children.

It’s not about time or reason—it’s about presence. About letting someone know they matter, that their return was worth celebrating.

What a beautiful way to live.

A More Joyful Life Begins With Attention

Whether it’s a child, a loved one, or our own reflections in the mirror, joy is waiting to be noticed.

Here are a few gentle ways to invite that childlike joy back into your daily life:

  • Greet your moments with your whole heart. Let your morning coffee be a little celebration. The sunshine through your window? A small miracle. Notice it.
  • Let yourself be excited. Don’t save enthusiasm for weekends or vacations. Look forward to something today—even something small.
  • Respond with joy. When you see someone you love, let them feel it. A smile, a kind word, a warm hug—they matter.
  • Keep a joy journal. Write down the little things that made you smile. A shared laugh. A flower in bloom. A tail wag.
  • Pray like a child. Talk to God the way a child would—freely, simply, with trust. He already knows your heart.

Closing Reflection

We don’t need to be loud to live with enthusiasm. We just need to be open—to wonder, to presence, to love.

Children and dogs are wise in this way. They meet life as it is, not as they wish it would be. They offer love without calculation and joy without reservation.

May we do the same.

With a heart open to the everyday wonder,
Jenny

The Simple Path: A Gentle Life Inspired by What Matters Most

What if the life you’re longing for isn’t waiting at the end of a big breakthrough—but right here, quietly blooming in the middle of your everyday moments?

That’s the question I’ve been carrying with me lately. And as I reread one of my favorite books, The Simply Luxurious Life by Shannon Ables, it echoed the very thing my heart’s been whispering: life doesn’t have to be extravagant to feel extraordinary.

It just has to be true.

Living Well Begins with Living Aware

In her book, Shannon talks about cultivating a life of quality over quantity—not just in what we buy, but in how we live. It’s the idea that luxury isn’t about having more, but about being present and purposeful.

I noticed how often I rush through the small things. I’ll drink coffee while checking emails. Eat dinner while standing up. Leave candles unlit because I think, what’s the point tonight?

But then one evening last week, I poured water into a pretty glass, lit a candle during dinner—even though it was just leftovers—and sat down to eat slowly. That moment didn’t just feel peaceful. It felt abundant.

Curate, Don’t Accumulate

One of the simplest truths in the book is this: curate your life. From your wardrobe to your calendar, your surroundings to your relationships.

I’ve started asking gentle questions:

  • What am I holding onto that no longer feels like me?
  • Where am I saying yes out of guilt instead of joy?
  • What drains me—and what lifts me?

Letting go doesn’t always feel easy. But it makes space. And in that space, you can breathe again.

Elevating the Everyday

There’s such beauty in the small rituals—if we choose to see them.
Using a linen napkin at breakfast. Playing soft music while folding laundry. Reading slowly instead of scrolling. Setting your phone down to enjoy your afternoon iced coffee in the sunshine.

This isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence.
And the presence we bring to life is what makes it beautiful.

A Quiet Invitation

This week, try one of these:

  • Pour your drink into a glass you love.
  • Add fresh flowers to your kitchen counter.
  • Step outside just to breathe in the evening air.
  • Say no to something that steals your peace.
  • Say yes to something small that brings you joy.

These aren’t luxuries—they’re soul habits. They bring us home to ourselves. And home is a holy place.

Final Thoughts

A simply luxurious life isn’t loud. It doesn’t clamor for attention. It doesn’t require perfection or applause.
It’s soft.
It’s sacred.
It’s yours.

And the more I lean into that truth, the more I realize: this simple path might just be the most beautiful one of all.

With a full heart,
Jenny

The Sacred Gift of Right Now

Yesterday after church, a dear friend and I sat down for coffee—the kind of slow, heart-soothing conversation that lingers long after the last sip. She said something that’s been quietly echoing in me ever since:

“The past is gone, and we don’t know what’s going to happen in the future because it hasn’t happened yet. All we really have is this moment—right here, right now.”

It was one of those truths you already know deep down but need to hear spoken aloud, especially when your heart’s been tangled in what was and what might be.

Lately, I’ve realized how often I’ve been living outside the moment. I dwell on the past—on choices I wish I could change, words I’d take back, and moments I would rewrite if I could. I also spend too much time worrying about the future, asking myself what will happen, when, and how. It can be exhausting.

And in all that overthinking, I miss what’s right in front of me.

The only moment I truly have is the one I’m living right now.

This breath.
This morning light.
This dog curled up beside me.
This fresh cup of coffee.
This heart that’s still healing—and still hoping.

There’s nothing wrong with setting goals or dreaming forward. I believe in creating intention and leaving room for what could be. But when we live in a loop of regret and worry, we trade away our peace. We miss the sacred gift of the present moment.

I don’t want to miss it anymore.

So today, I’m choosing to gently shift my focus. Not to ignore the past or stop caring about the future, but to start embracing this moment—the one where life is actually happening. The one where God is already meeting me, just as I am.

Maybe you need that reminder too.

That your past doesn’t get the final word.
That tomorrow doesn’t have to be figured out today.
That grace is available now—in this exact breath.

This is where peace lives:
Not in the replays.
Not in the what-ifs.
But right here, in the quiet now.

Here are a few small ways to root yourself in the present today:

  • Take a five-minute pause. Breathe deeply. Let that be enough.
  • Light a candle and whisper: “Thank You for right now.”
  • Write down three things around you that bring peace to your senses.
  • Pour your coffee into a favorite mug and drink it slowly, no distractions.
  • Choose one simple task to give your full attention—just one.

You don’t have to fix what’s already happened.
You don’t have to carry tomorrow’s worries today.
You just have to be here—willing, open-hearted, and present enough to receive today’s grace.

And that, my friend, is more than enough.

With love and presence,
Jenny

10 Little Things I Romanticize (On Purpose)


A quiet moment made lovely — because even water in a wine glass can feel like grace.

Lately, life has felt a little heavier than usual — and maybe you’ve felt it too.
But over time, I’ve found a small practice that lifts my spirit when the days feel long:
I romanticize the everyday.

Not to pretend everything is perfect.
Not to escape real life.
But to remind myself that even the smallest moments can be beautiful if I choose to see them that way.

Here are ten simple, everyday things I romanticize — on purpose — and maybe you’ll want to romanticize them too.

1. Making the bed like I’m at a cozy inn.

I fluff the pillows, smooth the covers, and spritz a little linen spray. It’s a simple act that says, you are worthy of care.

2. Lighting a candle at dinner — even if it’s just pizza.

A flickering candle transforms an ordinary meal into something special. No big occasion needed.

3. Wearing perfume — even when I’m home all day.

A soft spritz of a scent I love makes the day feel a little more graceful, even if I’m just folding laundry or writing.

4. Reading with a cozy blanket like it’s a scene from a movie.

Especially if there’s coffee nearby (or an iced maple coffee if it’s a warm Florida afternoon). It’s the little rituals that stay with you.

5. Doing dishes to music I love.

Whether it’s worship music, French café tunes, or a favorite country song, filling the room with music transforms a chore into a moment.

6. Writing a note with a real pen.

Not a text. Not an email. A real note — handwritten. Somehow it feels more thoughtful, more lasting.

7. Pouring water into a pretty bottle and drinking from a stemless wine glass.

I chill regular water in a beautiful bottle and sip it from a favorite glass. It’s a tiny act that turns something ordinary into something joyful.

8. Having a “fancy drink” even on a regular day.

Whipped cream on a latte. A splash of lemon in sparkling water. A cozy afternoon coffee. Small indulgences remind me to savor life.

9. Setting the table — even if it’s just for me.

A cloth napkin, a real plate, a glass that sparkles. Even if I’m eating alone, it’s worth making the meal feel beautiful.

10. Saying good morning to the birds.

Before the day sweeps me away, I pause outside and listen. The world is waking up too. And sometimes, that reminder is enough.

Finding Beauty in the Ordinary

Romanticizing the everyday isn’t about chasing perfection.
It’s about choosing to see the beauty that’s already around us.
It’s about making the ordinary feel like a blessing — because it is.

Maybe today you light a candle.
Maybe you sip water from your prettiest glass.
Maybe you simply pause long enough to hear the birds.

However you find it — here’s your gentle invitation:
There’s still magic tucked inside the simple things.

Jenny

The Quiet Strength of Gratitude


A quiet moment—just a glass of water, a flicker of candlelight, and the gentle pause that reminds you to breathe, reflect, and begin again.

Some days feel like storms.
Others feel like slow, steady drizzles that just don’t let up.
And sometimes, it’s not one big moment that unravels you—it’s the weight of all the little ones piling up quietly.

Lately, life has asked a lot of me.
And if I’m honest, I haven’t always shown up with grace. I’ve shown up tired. Worn thin. A little undone.
But I’ve still shown up—and I’m learning that’s something to be grateful for.

Today, we held a reflective gathering at school focused on what feeds us—on the daily rhythms that help nourish gratitude and resilience. It sparked something in me, a gentle reminder of the quiet things that carry me through my own hard days.

Because the things that keep us going aren’t always big.
Often, they’re small. Soft. Easy to miss if we’re not paying attention.

Sometimes, peace doesn’t come in long, uninterrupted stretches.
It shows up in fleeting moments:

  • A deep breath before the bell rings.
  • A glance out the window.
  • The stillness before the world fully wakes.

And if I’m not watching for it, I can miss it entirely.

We also talked about self-care—not in the trendy sense, but in the sacred sense. That caring for yourself isn’t selfish. It’s essential.
And how happiness and contentment aren’t quite the same.
Happiness is a feeling. Contentment is a posture.
You won’t always be happy. But if you nurture contentment, happiness has a way of finding its way in.

For me, contentment blooms in the everyday rhythms:

  • Pouring cold tap water into a fancy little wine glass from a glass bottle I keep chilled in the fridge. It’s just water—but in that moment, it feels like a luxury.
  • Writing down my prayers—sometimes in a quiet corner before the school day starts, sometimes in the back of my classroom with students arriving, catching a glimpse of me whispering words I can’t hold in.
  • Praying for the people I love—not just privately, but right in the middle of ordinary life.

Gratitude lives in those small moments, too:
A blooming flower.
A pup waiting at the door.
A song that meets you in your weariness.
That first sip of morning coffee.
Or a tiny act of kindness that reminds you—you’re not alone.

And sometimes, the most powerful gratitude comes when we shift the focus outward.
When we notice someone else’s need and choose to respond.
When we comfort a friend, offer a prayer, or extend a small grace to a stranger.
It’s amazing how helping someone else often roots us more deeply in our own sense of peace.

One thing I’ve learned—through the valleys and the roadblocks, through the heartbreaks and detours—is this:
I don’t want to live in the valley.
I’ll walk through it, yes. I’ve had my fair share of hard places. But they are not where I’m meant to set up camp.
They’re not the end of the story.
So I work hard not to build a life there.
I rest. I reflect. I breathe. And then I keep going.
That choice—that decision not to stay in the valley—that’s where resilience lives.

These aren’t grand gestures.
But they hold us.

So if you’re in a season that feels heavy, maybe start here:

  • Write down one thing that steadied you today.
  • Sip something slowly and savor it.
  • Step outside and notice one small joy.
  • Whisper a prayer for someone else.
  • And if your heart leads you, do one kind thing today. Not for applause. Just because love belongs in the ordinary.

Gratitude doesn’t erase life’s challenges.
But it softens our hearts to see beauty in the midst of them.
And that softness? That’s strength.

Here’s to finding peace in the pause, contentment in the ordinary, and grace in the smallest of things.

With love from this little corner of my heart to yours—
Jenny

The Quiet Strength of Contentment: A Gentle Monday Reset

There are some weeks that take more than they give.

Not dramatic weeks—just the kind that quietly unravel you a little.
The kind that leave you feeling stretched thin, worn out, or disconnected from yourself.
The kind where joy feels out of reach, and peace feels like something reserved for someone else.

And yet…
This morning, with coffee in hand and birdsong outside the window, I felt a whisper in my spirit:
You don’t need to chase happiness. You can choose contentment.

Contentment doesn’t demand perfection.
It doesn’t require everything to go your way.
It doesn’t mean the hard things disappear or that life suddenly gets easier.
It simply says: I will rest here, in this moment, with what I have.

That doesn’t mean we don’t dream or grow or hope.
It just means we stop racing toward some distant “when.”
When I lose the weight.
When I have more time.
When everything feels right.
Because sometimes, right now is all we get.

And it is enough.

So today, I’m not pushing myself to “make the most” of Monday.
I’m letting it be quiet.
I’m letting it be gentle.
And I’m asking myself:

  • What’s one small thing I’m grateful for right now?
  • Where can I choose peace over pressure today?
  • What does contentment look like in this season—not the one I wish I was in?

Maybe that’s your invitation too.

Not to change everything.
Not to pretend you’re fine.
But to pause long enough to feel your feet on the ground and say,
“This is enough for today.”

A few little things helping me stay anchored this week:

  • A morning playlist filled with soft piano and nature sounds
  • A fresh bunch of flowers on the kitchen table
  • A slow walk without a podcast—just listening to the world
  • My favorite tea at night, with a handwritten note to end the day
  • A reminder that contentment is a gift I can choose, not something I earn

If your heart feels heavy this Monday, I hope this meets you where you are—not with pressure, but with peace.

You’re allowed to be gentle with yourself.

With love,
Jenny

Monday Motivation: Begin Again, Gently


A soft start to the week begins here.
A quiet sip, a flicker of light, and a page to hold your thoughts.
Let this Monday be a gentle reminder:
You can begin again—slowly, sweetly, and with grace.

There’s something quietly sacred about a Monday morning.
While the world rushes, there’s an invitation to pause.
To reset. To realign. To remind ourselves that beginnings don’t have to be bold—they just have to be true.

If last week felt heavy, let today feel like a soft exhale.
You don’t need to have it all figured out. You only need to take one step.

Here are three gentle ways to welcome this new week:

1. Start with stillness.
Before you dive into the noise of the day, give yourself five minutes of quiet. Light a candle. Sip your coffee slowly. Whisper a prayer or write a sentence that begins with “This week, I hope…”

2. Choose a gentle intention.
Instead of a long to-do list, pick one intention for the week. Maybe it’s “savor my mornings,” “speak kindly to myself,” or “move my body with care.” Write it down and keep it somewhere you’ll see it each day.

3. Romanticize your routine.
Make one everyday task feel special. Add cinnamon to your coffee. Put on a soft playlist while you fold laundry. Wear your favorite earrings on a random weekday. Life doesn’t need to be fancy to feel beautiful—it just needs a little love.

You don’t need a fresh start at the beginning of the year.
You get one every single Monday.

Let this one begin with grace.

Jenny

A Love Letter to the Ordinary

Birdsong & Blessings – April 2, 2025

My life isn’t fancy.
It’s not extraordinary in the world’s eyes.
I’m not rich. I’m not famous. I’m just a normal person, trying to make it through life day by day, the best I can.

But even in its simplicity, this life of mine is such a blessing.
And lately, I’ve been realizing something that deserves a little love:
The ordinary things—the small, repeating rhythms of daily life—might just be my favorite part.

So this is a love letter.
To the ordinary.

To putting on my favorite music to help me clean the house.
It’s simple. Probably a lot of people do it.
But when I hear those first few notes, something clicks into place. It lifts me, moves me forward, and turns cleaning into comfort.

To the greeting my pups give me every morning and afternoon.
Their unconditional love humbles me every day.
They love me in spite of my flaws.
They ask so little but give so much. Just being present—tails wagging, eyes bright, always ready for whatever the day holds.

To shutting down the kitchen at night.
Wiping the counters.
Washing the dishes or loading the dishwasher.
Prepping my lunch for school the next day.
So ordinary, so often overlooked.
But when I walk into the kitchen the next morning to make my coffee, everything feels calm. Ready. Right.

To my coffee routine—because yes, it deserves its own moment.
I’ve had Keurigs. I use one at the Georgia house.
But at home, I grind my own beans.
I make my coffee in my regular coffee pot.
It’s one of my very favorite parts of the day.

It’s the first thing I do when I walk into the kitchen—before the dogs, before the rush.
The scent alone feels like a prayer.

And once I’ve walked the dogs and fed them, I pour that first cup.
I carry it into my bedroom, prop up my pillows, and sit with it.
Sometimes I pray.
Sometimes I’m quiet.
But always—I savor.
Every drop feeds my soul in a way I can’t explain.

And finally, to slow Saturday mornings.
Waking up when my body says it’s time—not when the alarm tells me to.
Sipping one or two unhurried cups of coffee with sunlight streaming in through the window.
No rush. No care. No agenda.
My very favorite day of the week.

Maybe I’ll never have an extraordinary life by the world’s standards.
But I’m learning more and more that the quiet parts—the ones no one claps for—are where the deepest joy lives.

Here’s to the ordinary things that make life beautiful.

For You, Dear Friend….

If you find yourself in a busy season, a tired season, or just a very ordinary one…
I hope you’ll take a moment to notice the quiet gifts around you.

Here are a few questions to carry into your day:

  • What is one small ritual that brings you peace?
  • When was the last time you paused to truly enjoy your coffee, tea, or even a glass of water?
  • What part of your routine feels simple but sacred?
  • Can you name a few “ordinary” moments that bring you comfort?
  • What would a love letter to your daily life look like?

You don’t have to be chasing big dreams to live a beautiful life.
Sometimes, just being here—present, grateful, and breathing—is more than enough.

Jenny

Gather & Grace | March 28, 2025 A soft corner of the week for simple joys, nourishing beauty, and a little grace.


Where the breeze tells old stories and the birds sing new ones. This porch has a way of reminding me that peace often arrives quietly—with no rush, just grace.

This week whispered to me through porch breezes and birdsong—gentle nudges to rest, savor, and take note of the quiet goodness unfolding all around. From an easy one-pan dinner to a pair of comfy ballet flats, here are a few things I’m gathering with gratitude.

Something to Read
The Air Raid Book Club by Annie Lyons
A tender, moving story about love, books, and finding purpose when life takes unexpected turns. If you love historical fiction and stories where books heal hearts, this one’s for you.

French Beauty Solution by Mathilde Thomas
Part beauty guide, part lifestyle philosophy, this book offers gentle and practical ways to care for your skin, slow down, and embrace effortless French charm. I’ve loved flipping through it this week with a cup of coffee nearby.

Something to Watch
Murder in Provence (Acorn TV)
A rewatch-worthy cozy mystery series with beautiful scenery and intelligent storytelling. A perfect evening unwind, especially if you’re craving something light but smart.

Something to Make
Crispy Onion & Cheese Sheet Pan Chicken
This one’s a new favorite. Here’s how I made it:

  • Preheat oven to 425°F.
  • Coat chicken tenders or thighs with a mix of crushed crispy fried onions and shredded cheese (the original recipe calls for Monterey Jack, but I used a blend).
  • Arrange on a sheet pan with halved baby potatoes and green beans tossed in olive oil and seasoning.
  • Roast for 25 minutes until the chicken is golden and crisp, the cheese is bubbly, and the veggies are tender.

Easy. Satisfying. Delicious.

Something to Wear
Ballet Flats from Thursday Boot Company
Supportive, timeless, and comfy—these are my go-to for everyday ease with a touch of polish. Ideal for a capsule wardrobe or a spring refresh.

Something to Love
Ilia Beauty
Light, clean, and kind to your skin—I’ve been loving this line lately. Their serum foundation is especially lovely, offering just enough coverage without feeling like makeup at all.

Something to Savor
Sitting on the porch of the Georgia house, listening to birds in the garden
There’s something about being still and letting the birds be the soundtrack. I didn’t realize how much I needed it until I was there, breathing in the hush and peace.

A Thought to Tuck in Your Pocket
“You don’t have to chase the light. Sometimes it finds you when you slow down long enough to notice it.”

Wishing you porch moments, good stories, and grace that finds you right where you are.

Blessings & Joy,
Jenny

7 Simple Joys to Brighten Your Wednesday: Little Luxuries for a Beautiful Midweek Pause

Midweek blooms, whispering joy into the ordinary.

We made it to Wednesday, sweet friend.

The middle of the week can feel like a lukewarm cup of coffee—technically still doing its job, but not exactly inspiring. So let’s shake off the midweek slump and stir in a little joy. Today, I’m sharing 7 simple joys—the kind that bring beauty to the middle of the mess and help us breathe a little deeper.

These aren’t grand gestures—they’re little luxuries you can enjoy right where you are.

1. A Dash of Cream & a Pinch of Pep Talk
My mornings begin with freshly ground coffee, but it’s the swirl of cream and a whispered reminder that make it feel like a ritual. “You’re doing better than you think,” I’ll say to myself. It’s a simple act of love before the day fully begins.

2. A 3-Song Dance Break
Right in the kitchen—no stage required. Lately, I’ve been moving to country classics, 90s pop, a bit of jazz, or something delightfully 80s. Hairbrush microphone? Optional, but highly recommended. Even the pups join in with tail wags and confused expressions.

3. Fresh Flowers by the Sink
Whether it’s a small grocery store bundle or a few backyard clippings, fresh flowers near the kitchen sink bring unexpected happiness. It’s like the world’s smallest bouquet saying, “Hang in there, love.”

4. Afternoon Iced Coffee with Maple Cream Foam
Leftover morning coffee? Don’t toss it—transform it. A splash of pure maple syrup and a spoonful of hand-whipped cream turns it into a sweet mid-afternoon treat. Simple, satisfying, and a lovely pause before the evening begins.

5. One Lovely Sentence
I try to write one beautiful sentence each day. Sometimes it ends up in a journal, sometimes on a sticky note or a text to someone I love. A recent favorite: “There’s still so much good waiting for you.”

Words matter. Especially the tender ones.

6. A Cozy Mystery on the Couch
Midweek evenings are for unwinding, and lately, I’ve been curling up with a gentle whodunit—think Father Brown or Miss Marple. No gore, just charm, wit, and the comfort of tea and tidy endings.

7. A 5-Minute Reset
No phone. No noise. Just five minutes to close my eyes, stretch, or simply stare out the window. It’s a small invitation to return to myself—and it always helps.

The beauty of simple living is that it’s not about having more—it’s about noticing more. And even in the middle of a busy week, there’s time to notice. A flower. A song. A sentence. A sip.

So here’s to finding magic in the midweek.

What little luxuries are carrying you through this week? I’d love to know.

With love and stillness,
Jenny