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
