August 2025
As I flipped my calendar, balancing on three heavy-duty magnets on my kitchen refrigerator, to August, it felt similar to getting to the last chapter of a book, when you can feel the fleetingness of it between your fingertips.
Summer isn’t over, but it’s close. For many of us with children at home, school will soon be starting. It will still be hot, and we will still have plenty of sunshine, but slowly, almost without our even noticing, it will get slightly cooler, and twilight will commence slightly sooner.
Over the years, I have gotten better about adjusting from school year productivity to summer productivity, as well as a year-round state that really isn’t about productivity at all. I know there is merit in domestic duties and practices that goes unseen to many, and I have gotten better about just being with my family, especially when we have more time on our hands.
Even though I’ve gotten used to a different summer pace and look forward to it, I still have a mental list of things I expect of myself, and this self-imposed list tends to be longer in the summertime. This year was no exception. There were various house projects for me and Ben to tackle. There were the books I planned to read or listen to, ranging from classics to the newest Pulitzer Prize winner, and there were the Bible studies or book clubs I planned to be apart of.
There was also the exercise regiment I wanted to follow and the enrichment I wanted to help the kids with: the activities I’d chauffeur them to and the ones I would oversee. There was the hosting I wanted to do in our home: the families we would have over, the parties we would throw. And then there was the writing I wanted to do: the usual blog posts but then the additional articles I hoped to write.
As the summer winds down, it is tempting to address my mental list with a proverbial pen to see what can be crossed off and what still needs done. But I’m learning to avoid thinking about my life and its details as a “one and done” activity.
I read books, completing several, but the bookmark in The Brothers Karamazov still hasn’t quite made its way to even the halfway point, and that’s ok. Dostoevsky isn’t going anywhere. The Bible study and book study I was apart of this summer were both lifegiving, but I learned to attend even if I hadn’t completed all the “homework.”
Workouts this summer ebbed and flowed – some days I got on my mat, other days I walked, and there were plenty of days nothing happened except the usual movement of keeping up with the kids, errands, and the house. Many of our house projects are (or will soon be) completed but more remain. We had people over this summer, yet we also didn’t extend some of the invites I wanted to.
Summer often seems broken up into two camps: either how well we relax (think vacations) or how well we catch up or work on all the things we forget about the rest of the year. And summer can be good for both restfulness and activity, but I am also learning how to just sit in the in-between.
We live in a utilitarian culture that valorizes productivity and efficiency. Yet in contrast, often homemaking is about slowness and the long game. I chose to read to my children most afternoons even though it would have been more time efficient to listen to the audiobook on car rides. Though audiobooks can be great options, I also wanted us to cultivate the skill of choosing to sit down and listen even if we could be doing something else. I wanted to be an active participant. The same thing the pioneers did during evenings over a hundred years ago happens in my home in 2025, and there is something unifying in that.
When I think about my own productivity regarding something like writing or exercising, I know what I am really after is a lifestyle. It’s not about a number of words per day or workouts per week. It’s about finding the value in a routine that sometimes we may not even feel like doing but also the freedom in taking breaks or pivoting.
It’s good to set goals and have ambitions for ourselves, but only to the extent that these don’t become task masters. If we are so forward focused on what we want to accomplish, we can miss the here and now.
That phrase “these are the good old days” is a pretty telling reminder. Someday we will be looking back on what we are living through right now.
I certainly don’t want to miss the beauty of today because I am only thinking about the better version of myself, my house, our family habits, or whatever the case may be, and how much improved it will be next week or next year.
J. R. Miller, a reverend who lived in the 19th century and wrote the classic book Home-Making said, “We do not realize how much of the happiness of our after years, will depend upon the things we are doing today” (109.) Miller didn’t mean the beach body we honed, the way we filled up our social calendar, or even the way we efficiently completed everything on our to do list. He meant the way we intentionally connect with those we share our home with. Our “good old days” will be the time we spend with those we love in meaningful ways.
However, while intentionally “being” is a worthwhile goal, I know I also misspent some of my time. I could have been on my phone less. I could have made different choices in countless little ways. And while guilting myself into good stewardship of my time is not a useful way to reflect on my summer, it does bring up the question of how we ought to thoughtfully assess our choices, noting what we should take with us moving ahead and what we should tweak.
I certainly chuckle at the memes that make us feel better, things like
There are also posts like the one showing happy smiles the first week of summer vs weathered grimaces the last week of summer. There are all in good fun, but they also aren’t setting the bar very high.
I read a post online recently celebrating using paper plates full time and how freeing it is.
Now, I have nothing against paper plates; there is absolutely a time and a place for them. But, yet again, moderation is key. Even as I want to resist viewing the worth of my summer according to what I accomplished,
I also want to hold myself to a standard of that which is “above reproach,” to draw from 1 Timothy 5:7.
Something as simple as choosing to use real dishes and then washing those dishes afterward is an action filled with more meaning than it may initially seem. It’s a validation of the value of work and seeing washing dishes (a form of domestic labor) as worth our time, even though we could instead simply toss plates in the trash and avoid the tedious chore.
A friend of mine recently lamented that she hates washing dishes. But she washes them anyway! She does the hard thing regardless of how it feels in the moment.
Even aside from the environmental impact of solely using paper plates, the bigger question to ask is perhaps, “What does this action cultivate in me and in my family?” Is it a spirit of intentionality and a pursuing of what is good?
In The Working Homemaker, I thought about the fine balance of not expecting exceptionalism but likewise not accepting mediocrity just because it’s normal.
“Abbie Halberstadt writes about not justifying mediocre motherhood just because it is becoming socially acceptable. She says that ‘we may discover that we fit in just fine and can always manage to find someone to justify our shortcomings or make us feel better about our bad days. But we will not have found, at the end of it all, that we look much like Jesus or that we have gotten any closer to feeling at peace with motherhood.’ (M is for Mama, 18 ) …Our goal should not be a life we can justify but a life we can offer as a pleasing sacrifice to God. He is more interested in our faithfulness to the people he has given us than our striving to achieve more. We should give ourselves grace to be imperfect moms but not allow that to become an excuse for parenting our children just well enough to get by.” (25)
This is how I am trying to reflect on my summer, both as a parent and simply as a person. Rather than tallying the things I did or did not complete or participate in, I’m thinking about how what I did shaped me. Did they prompt me to think about my relationship with God, with others, and even with myself?
Thinking about the coaching and lessons the kids and I did together, I’m trying not to fixate on how much they improved or how many pages or lessons we got through and to instead think about how we managed on hard days when no one wanted to apply themselves (me included.) I’m thinking about how our relationship was impacted by snuggling on the couch or sitting up straight on the piano bench when we wanted to slouch.
In some ways, it would be easier to just give myself a pat on the back and say I was successful because I did the thing or accomplished the goal. Or maybe I was unsuccessful because the task can’t yet be crossed off my list. But that may be the paper plate approach: everyone ate; it happened quickly, so the mission was accomplished. Instead, I want to go the slower route where you stack the dishes, lather them up one at a time, rinse, and carefully place them in the drying rack. (Hey – I’d also saying loading and unloading the dishwasher can be formative.)
How have the things we have done impacted us? Did the way we spent our time and the way we treated each other reflect our values? I plan to finish the Brothers K, but even if I don’t, it has already affected me. I plan to paint more of our trim boards, but even if I miss a few, slowing down and getting on the floor to notice the chips and scuffs has reminded me of the value of working with my hands.
So, if your summer has some loose ends, there is still time to cultivate and stay the course. The beginning of the school year may feel like an arbitrary deadline, but it doesn’t have to be. If you’re trying to decide if you measured up, completed enough, or improved enough, just remember we aren’t projects. We are people in process. We should hold ourselves to a standard, but only while remembering we are held by the hands of Grace.