Newfangled Hygge

The last two years have been difficult.

Well, if I’m honest, it hasn’t been just the past two years. The past six years or so have been harder than most. One difficulty after another, always overlapping, with brief periods of fresh air mixed in to feel like they were barely noticeable.

But the last two years, especially, have felt really heavy.

Emotionally, physically, mentally heavy.

My mind trips over these cycles of “if only” and “what if.”

If only life could slow down for just a moment.

What if the house stayed clean for longer than fifteen minutes.

If only I had more time to myself.

What if the kids were older.

If only I were more organized.

What if I could finally get ahead.

Those are just little examples. You know how it goes. The endless lists in your brain of “if only [xyz] could improve, then life would be better.” Or “what if [xyz] changed, then maybe I could feel more peace.”

I have honestly felt like peace lived somewhere just beyond my reach, waiting for me on the other side of a better schedule or a quieter season.

It will get better. Isn’t that what we’re always shooting for?

So I kept chasing it.

I would reorganize our schedule. I would plan different outings and priorities. I tried new devotionals, planned different routines, moved things around. I looked for ways to simplify. I told myself that when life finally settled down, then I would have time to breathe, enjoy the little things a little longer, spend more time with God. Maybe I’d have more time to be creative and feel more like myself again.

But life didn’t settle down.

Life doesn’t settle down.

Motherhood isn’t a season I can organize my way out of. Home isn’t a project to complete. There is always another meal to cook, another load of laundry to fold, another appointment to remember, another message waiting to be answered, another prayer to be said.

The life I was chasing, hoping I could just get a hold of so I could stop running, kept feeling farther and farther away.

Then a day came when I was texting my Mom about our homeschool plan. It didn’t feel like it was working, and honestly hadn’t felt like it was working for the past two years. We hadn’t finished curriculum, two kids were behind on math, but here was a child’s birthday that usually kicks off our summer and I really just wanted to… stop. I wanted a break.

My Mom said something along the lines of, “Then take a break.”

It caught me off guard. Surely, it couldn’t be that easy? Really, we needed to do school through the summer. The kids need to catch up. I needed to do a better job at teaching science. We couldn’t just … stop … could we?

I think I said, “That would be nice.”

And when I responded, I realized something. I realized we could stop. That was the beauty of homeschooling, after all. We could pick up where we stopped later. But a six week break for birthdays and pool days and the 4th of July… that sounded so wonderful.

So that’s what we did.

This moment wasn’t life-changing in the way dramatic moments are supposed to be.

In fact, my first reaction was to say, “We can’t do that.”

But something made me pause. The simplicity of my Mom’s text, “Then take a break.”

What if this was exactly what we needed?

Would it be so bad to just stop and take a break?

We are nearing the end of our summer break (that has extended past those six weeks), and I feel a little more ready for the new school year. Not 100% ready yet, but not as anxious as the past two summers had me feeling.

This break has done more for my life than just a breather from school. It gave me more time to think, to pause. To really just enjoy the moments and stop thinking about the next thing. It has made me really focus on the moments.

Yes, there’s still laundry. Yes, there are still dishes. Yes, there are still a million and one things I have to do.

But I am slowly learning to slow down. Because the “if only” and “what if” statements may happen… someday. But am I willing to speed through the now to get to them?

The answer is no, I’m not.

Our summer break hasn’t changed my circumstances. It has changed the way I see them.

I am realizing I haven’t been longing for a different life.

I had been longing to experience the life I already have.

That doesn’t mean every day is now peaceful. It also doesn’t mean every summer day has been picture-perfect.

My home is still full. My calendar is still busy. There are still moments when I choose the to-do list instead of the moments in front of me.

But now I know what I’m practicing.

Not perfection.

Presence.

I’m learning that joy often arrives quietly—in a cup of tea, a shared story, a conversation around the dinner table, a walk outside, a candle lit at the end of an ordinary day, an unplanned day at the pool because the weather is perfect, an impromptu Bible story and lesson at the breakfast table.

The life I’ve been wanting has been hiding inside the one I’m already living, waiting patiently for me to notice.

I think that’s why I created Newfangled Hygge, because that’s what Newfangled Hygge is all about. It’s what I’m striving to learn, sit with, pray over.

Not escaping my life.

Coming home to it.