Reset, Connect, and Play
If there has been a theme for July in my life, it has been this: reset, connect, and play.
For as long as I can remember, I've used July as a bit of a reset button. A permission slip, if you will, to slow down, create space, and focus on the kinds of experiences that fill me back up. The work will be there when the break is over. It always is. What isn't guaranteed are the moments we get with the people we love.
This month has been full of those moments.
One of the highlights was having all four of my grandchildren in San Diego for sailing camp. Watching my two oldest granddaughters spend nearly two weeks with us was such a gift. There is something remarkable about seeing young people grow into themselves, especially when they have a little room to step outside their usual family systems and discover who they are becoming. I watched their confidence deepen, their resilience strengthen, and their independence emerge in beautiful ways. It has been so much fun to witness their growing sense of self and to see who they are becoming.
Along the way, we continued some of our favorite traditions: movie nights, special family dinners, and our evening check ins. For years, our family has shared "Highs and Lows" around the dinner table, but the girls introduced me to an evolution of the ritual: Rose, Bud, and Thorn. A rose is something good from the day, a bud is something you learned or are looking forward to, and a thorn is something difficult, painful, or disappointing. I loved watching this tradition evolve and seeing the genuine enthusiasm they brought to it. These rituals may seem small, but they are the threads that strengthen connection over time. The bond we've been able to build over the years feels incredibly special, and I cherish the girls' willingness to participate, share, and invest in these moments together.
The Fourth of July brought its own version of joyful chaos. With ten family members together, including six children under eleven, there was no shortage of activity. Amid the noise, laughter, logistics, and moving parts, one of my favorite sights was watching my sons play together just as they did when they were boys. There was plenty of horsing around in the water and the inevitable competition over who is currently "in the best shape." Some things never change, and honestly, I'm grateful for that.
One of the gifts of this season was also the opportunity to update our family photos. Looking at the finished pictures, I felt both gratitude and sadness. Most of us were there, gathered together, creating another snapshot of this chapter of our lives. Yet one of our sons is deployed and serving far from home, and another son continues to choose distance and disconnection from our family.
The photos are bittersweet. They capture so much love, history, and connection, while also reminding me that some important pieces of my heart are missing. Life rarely presents itself as all joy or all sorrow. More often, it asks us to hold both at the same time. This year, that has felt especially true.
In many ways, that has been the lesson of July. Celebrating the gift of time with our grandchildren. Laughing through the chaos of crowded boats, sandy towels, and family adventures. Watching the next generation grow into confidence and resilience. At the same time, carrying the ache of those we miss and the relationships we continue to hold hope for.
While my husband and I haven't had much downtime these past few weeks, we've both found ourselves saying the same thing: every bit of time, energy, and resources invested in the next generation is worth it. These experiences are creating core memories, not only for our grandchildren but for all of us. They are strengthening relationships, building traditions, and reminding us of what matters most.
As I reflect on this month, I'm reminded that self-care isn't always quiet. It isn't always a spa day, a nap, or an empty calendar. Sometimes self-care looks like connection. Sometimes it looks like laughter, sunscreen, sandy towels, crowded dinner tables, and a house full of people you love. Sometimes it means giving yourself permission to step away from productivity and invest fully in play, relationships, and presence.
If you've been running hard this year, consider this your invitation: give yourself permission to reset. Make room for connection. Protect time for play. Hold close the people who are with you and leave room in your heart for those who aren't. The emails, deadlines, and responsibilities will still be waiting for you. But the opportunities to create meaningful memories and deepen relationships are happening right now.
July has reminded me that life can be wonderfully full and painfully incomplete at the same time. Both can be true. And learning to hold joy and heartbreak together, without letting either cancel out the other, may be one of the most important forms of resilience we can practice.
So, this month, my encouragement to you is simple: reset, connect, and play. The work will be there when you return. It always is. The moments that matter most are happening now.
Much Love,
Kelly
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