Here’s my confession — I used to think I was an extrovert.
Mostly because I genuinely love people. I’ve always been up for a good party or hangout. For years, I worked as a camp counselor, followed by even more years in ministry. People are great! But then I got married to a true extrovert. After long stretches of social time, I’d feel the urge to disappear — to read a book, play music, or write alone. My husband, on the other hand, wanted to keep the evening going. “Should we invite someone else over? Grab dinner with friends?” he’d ask. His tank would be overflowing while mine was running on empty. Surprise! I’m actually pretty introverted — and I need quiet time to refuel. Still, I love hosting. Curating a cozy weekend hangout or cooking a meal for friends genuinely fills me with joy. Our home has an open-door feel, and our friends and neighbors know they’re welcome to pop in anytime. I’ve always loved Hebrews 13:2, which says: “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.” Extrovert, introvert, or somewhere in between — we’re all called to show hospitality. If we ignore that call, we might miss out on angels… or the very answers to our prayers walking through our doors. So yes, we open our homes. But if you’re like me, there comes a point when you need to recharge from all that “people-ing.” With the holiday season approaching, how can we love others well and protect our own peace? Here are a few gentle, introvert-friendly ways to host without burning out:
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Discipling during DinNER: 3 Practical Ways to Spiritually Connect To our Children at the Table10/14/2025  The kitchen has always been a sacred place for me. It’s the first place I wander to in the morning to make a steaming cup of coffee. For years, it’s been where I open my devotional and journal at the dining room table. It’s where our family gathers at the end of a busy day to share a meal, where friends lean their elbows on the island while I stir something on the stove, and where my husband turns on Johnnyswim, pulls me in close, and spins me around the floor. It’s where our kids dance barefoot to their favorite songs.
Our kitchens have hosted more birthdays, game nights, and holidays than I can count. There’s just something special about a kitchen, isn’t there? It’s both the place where we’re nourished and the space where we feel safe enough to make a mess. Maybe that’s why I believe the kitchen table is one of the best places to begin discipling our children… 
When I step away from the online world and back into real life, I don’t see people as opinions or political leanings. I just see a man and woman chatting in line at the coffee shop, a mom soothing her toddler at the grocery store, a teacher smiling as she opens the door for children to walk into school.
We live in a hyper-individualized culture, and social media only amplifies it. Platforms are curated for “Follow me. Like me. See me.” Me, me, me. But the Bible reveals a different way of living—one centered on community and interdependence. If we look at the first church gatherings, we see that they shared life together—including meals. The good news is this: when you decide to host a gathering, you don’t have to feel crushed under the pressure to provide it all. When everyone brings something, the table becomes a community space filled with dishes that reflect the uniqueness of each person. Maybe the way forward isn’t doing more, but sharing the table—and the load. Here’s what makes me ask… 
News feeds are full of fighting. Families are already split over politics, and group text threads are heavy with tension about who to avoid at upcoming holiday gatherings. Even in our neighborhoods, where we once waved and said, “Hey Bob, how are ya?”—now we avert our eyes, hurry to our cars, and escape into the next thing.
Across America, people are dodging personal connection out of fear of conflict—yet at the same time, we dash to our phones to fire off opinionated comments at strangers on social media. In a world pulling apart, what if the Church led the way in pulling chairs closer? Remembering Connection Before ScreensBefore social media, I had to ask my parents or friends about everything. By the time dial-up internet connected, I could’ve already gotten an answer from my mom and hopped on my bike for a neighborhood ride. When my perspective was off, someone who loved me corrected me and steered me straight. Now, we carry lightning-fast computers in our pockets. Any question, any opinion—seconds away. Then we curate feeds that echo back what we already believe. Before long, we’ve built an entire worldview reinforced not by people who know us, but by algorithms. And here’s the problem… 
As I began this September blog and podcast theme centered around transition and becoming, I never could have predicted the massive shift our culture would witness.
This past Sunday, at the memorial service for young conservative activist and outspoken Christian Charlie Kirk, hundreds of thousands—possibly millions—heard the Gospel proclaimed. They were invited to accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior, and they witnessed Erika Kirk publicly extend radical forgiveness to the gunman who assassinated her husband. Yes, there was political messaging, but above all, the banner of Christ was lifted high. For nearly twenty years, my mom worked as a media librarian at the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association in Charlotte, NC. Whenever I visited her, I would wander the hallways, studying the photos of crusades Billy Graham led across the world. Thousands upon thousands of lives were changed by the Word of God and the love of Jesus at those events. I remember quietly praying in my heart, “Lord, do it again.” The idea of America coming back to Jesus became deeply imprinted on my heart, and I began to write the word revival in my prayer journals in middle school—a practice I’ve carried into adulthood. God and I have been having conversations about revival for decades. And there, on my television screen, I witnessed a memorial service transform into a mighty move of God. The scene wasn’t so different from the BGEA photos I once studied. It made me ask: Is this America’s transition into a season of revival? 
It’s hard to believe, but we’re already in the final stretch of the year. I saw a sign the other day: “100 days until Christmas.” At first, I laughed. Surely that can’t be right. But the truth is, the fourth quarter is here whether we’re ready or not. Before long, the Christmas tree Amazon is already trying to sell me will be standing in my living room.
But if I’m honest, this year doesn’t feel cheerful. Our nation has been rocked by tragedy—school shootings, random acts of violence close to home, and most recently, the assassination of conservative Christian activist Charlie Kirk. Social media is buzzing with outrage, opinions, and hostility. The heaviness is exhausting. If you’ve found yourself scrolling rabbit holes like I have, maybe you feel it too: weary, paralyzed, and a little hopeless. Here’s the good news… 
School drop offs are back and I feel like we’re perpetually late. No matter how quick we move in the morning, we always seem to be five minutes behind. Anyone else? There’s something about fall where the pace of life feels… faster.
As I was cleaning my house Friday, I dug into the back of storage to pull out our fall decor and began to transform our home into an autumn oasis. It’s funny how quickly one season can close and another opens. The time shift seems to happen almost overnight. While things get busier in the fall, we can choose to push back against the pace. The change in seasons is pushing us into a new rhythm whether we like it or not. We can allow that crisp fall breeze to usher in an intentional reset that will enable us to get on top of our lives instead or we can be behind the ball as we roll headfirst into school, sports, and eventually the holidays ahead. “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” — Lamentations 3:22-23 Fall is a season of change. It brings to my mind that, as Lamentations 3:22-23 states, God’s daily mercies invite us to begin again — spiritually, emotionally, and practically. Just like the leaves fall from the trees, we get to shed our sin and shame… and also what just isn’t working for us in this new season. Keep Reading to Reset Your Spiritual Rhythms … 
There’s something about the first cool breeze in September cutting through the southern humidity that always makes me pause. The long days by the water and slow summer sunsets fade, and suddenly, school drop-offs, pumpkin candles, and packed schedules take their place.
It’s a change I can feel — not just in the air, but in my soul. Change, even when expected, can feel unsettling. This was the summer we moved to the lake. Our first weekend in the new house landed on Memorial Day. We knew the move was coming. We shifted the girls’ schools, found a new church, and expanded our community. We planned for it — yet it was still hard. There are always growing pains with change. Maybe your life is shifting too — a new school year, a new job, a relationship evolving, or simply stepping into the last quarter of the year wondering, Where did the time go? Is it fall already? The truth is, seasons change — in nature, yes, but also in our souls. 
Sabbath is a concept I’ve never fully grasped.
So when a reader of this blog and a Miracle in the Mess podcast listener asked me, “How do we rest without feeling guilty?”—I felt it deep in my bones. Because if you’re anything like me, rest often feels… unproductive. It’s Saturday morning. I’m curled up on the couch with my family, cartoons on, pancakes on the table, but my mind is buzzing. I can see the mountain of laundry threatening to touch the ceiling. I can hear the dishes calling my name from the sink. Before I know it, I’m back on my feet, crossing things off my list, telling myself I’ll relax once it’s all done. Except—it’s never all done. Even when I do sit down, I pull out my phone “just to scroll for a minute,” and suddenly I’ve traded the soft morning light pouring through my windows for the harsh glow of blue light. My body is paused, but my soul? Still racing. One more task. One more minute. One more thing to do. Sound familiar? The world we live in makes us feel lazy when we slow down. There’s always something to clean, a notification to answer, a podcast to catch up on, or a new “must-do” tip from Instagram. Our culture celebrates hustle and productivity, but deep down, our souls ache for stillness. So what do we do? How do we Sabbath well in a culture that never stops moving? 
I recently hopped on social media to ask for podcast and blog ideas. Funnily enough, I only got one response. But I loved it so much that I’m kicking off our fall Hermana Blog and season three of the Miracle in the Mess Podcast with it.
The suggestion? “How do we adult well?” Honestly, the older I get, the less sure I feel about adulting. In my twenties, I probably would’ve rattled off a quippy, self-help-sounding line like: “Health and wealth in adulthood are found in soul rest and deep relationships.” Or maybe even something peppy like: “Don’t pause your dreams—your best adult self shows up when you chase your God-given calling!” Cute, right? But not raw. True-ish? Sure. Practical? Nope. If we were sitting down for coffee and you asked me this question, I’d give you a much simpler answer: We adult well by thinking less about ourselves and more about God and others. |
