It’s been two months since my last post. That’s not because I’ve been off somewhere writing a book or taking a dreamy vacation. The truth is simpler and less glamorous: I’ve been busy. Very busy.

And I need to ask you something – bluntly: Have you ever worshipped the idea of “busyness”?

I don’t mean just having a full calendar. I mean shaping your days, your decisions, even your identity around the belief that being constantly on the go is the same thing as being productive, successful, or a “good” parent.

For the past two years, I’ve been quietly bowing at that altar. If there was an empty space in our schedule, I found a way to fill it. Swim team. Art and music lessons. Co-ops. Civic organizations. Volunteer projects. Sports. Enrichment programs. All good things – at least individually. But together, they created a life that looked impressive from the outside and felt exhausting on the inside.

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At first, it didn’t seem like a problem. As homeschoolers, we can do all these things. And I wanted my kids to have every opportunity – to explore their gifts, discover their passions, and stay connected with the world. Plus, in a culture that celebrates the busiest families, it’s hard not to wear your schedule like a badge of honor.

But over time, the cost began to show.

Our diets crumbled because we were eating on the run. Family dinners disappeared. Swim – once a joy for my daughter – became something she dreaded. We were “homeschooling,” but hardly ever home long enough to do the schooling well. My husband and I were perpetually tired, passing each other in the car like co-workers on opposite shifts.

It hit me one day that we weren’t just living busy. We were serving it.

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So here’s what we’ve decided to do – our little act of rebellion.

This semester, we’re calling a halt. A sabbatical of sorts. A “free and slow” semester – our own family social experiment. We’ve cleared our calendar of everything that isn’t essential. No back-to-back activities. No rushing from place to place. Just space. Space for lingering over breakfast. Space for long walks. Space for projects that have no deadlines. Space to be home – really home.

I don’t know exactly what will come of it. Maybe we’ll miss the constant motion. Maybe we won’t. But I do know this: something in me is ready to exchange the adrenaline of busyness for the quiet, steady hum of a slower life.

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So I’ll ask you one more time: Have you ever worshipped the idea of “busyness”?

And if you have – what might it look like to step away from that altar for a while?

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Here’s to clearing the noise, making space, and remembering that the most meaningful things rarely require us to be in a hurry.
From my heart and home to yours,
Patricia