another year. all of them count, but this one holds a little more weight in my heart. it was a year of quiet prayers being answered. so many of them. i will never get over the way goodness continued to come. it reminded my sometimes weary but determined to remain hopeful heart that hope is always worth it. always, always worth it. this was a year of growth and change and running in the lane that is mine. accepting all that this lane is and all that this lane is not. this was a year where the longest friendships became better and more. and new friendships showed up, surprised me, and made all the difference— i’m still not over it. the little things were the big things, as they always are. the best things were saturday morning walks with a friend, more cups of tea together than could be counted, and simple texts that came right on time. letters in the mail and phone calls from family— any of them. laughing and reading and looking out to see the trees blooming again. a boat ride at sunset. dinner around someone’s table. watching snow fall gently, beautifully just outside the window. listening to two friends say i do— honest and heartfelt. welcoming brand new babies and watching others blow out their own candles.
if next year is more of the same i will be more than happy. full and grateful and so very aware that i’ve been given much. grace, grace. so much grace.
if goodness is time with good people and noticing the beauty all around. if it is unhurried days and rest. if it is making new friends and meeting up with old friends. if it is long walks around a city or slow meals or making time for the simplest of things that you enjoy— this last week was covered in it. i am full and grateful and so very aware that i have a thousand little reasons to say thank you, again.
december in new york is magic. all the trees and all the lights and mostly all the people who call the city home who are strong and determined, but mostly kind and warm and helpful. it’s something. walking new streets makes me feel alive. familiar faces in little cafes feels sweet. and unhurried time with people that matter most might just be everything. i won’t forget these days with these people in this place.
there is always change. always, always change. and while some of it is hard and painful and some it feels like a stretching that might just pull something deep down right in two— some of it is absolutely beautiful. this right here reminds me. i don’t want to miss a single bit of it.
once again, leaving this city filled to full. a weekend with a long list of your favorite people in one place— magic. spring in new york, also magic.
if ever there was a card i wanted to create, it is this one. if ever there were words that i hope to be said and meant over and over and over again— these words.
at the beginning of another year i am most grateful for the little things— like this. flowers that show up because a friend refuses to let you celebrate anything alone. also quick checkins and cards in the mail and people who say sure, come stay. what a thing to get to walk these days, all of them, together. here’s to another one. more celebrating, more sharing. more of all of it, together.
my whole heart in a project. if ever there was something that i cared about entirely, it is this. good words being given and shared. might we slow down and leave each other seen and celebrated, loved and cared for—one card at a time. slow and thoughtful and personal. generous. meaningful. as important as it has ever been. i’m not sure that we will turn around and wish we worked longer hours or built bigger and bigger things to become a little more impressive, but i do think we will wish we took the time to tell someone just how much we believe in them or just how much we care.
so, bowe. heartfelt words for everyday moments. might these cards be a space for you to share your good words with those who mean most to you.
because we need each other. because ordinary love given well might just change everything. i believe it will.
international women’s day feels like the exact right time to share this collaboration with darling. in honor of the beauty, depth, and gentle care that women carry. in celebration of ways we are able to encourage and empower one another.
to shop the collection, click the link in @darling bio.
when the days feels heavy somehow, i come back to this. when friends are welcoming a brand new baby, i come back to this. when a precious friend hears the word cancer again. when there is loss too great for words. when i need to stop going and doing and my soul needs some quiet, i come back to this. when there is anything good at all worth celebrating, i come back to this. baking and sharing. making anything at all that can be left on a doorstep. it feels small and simple and healing somehow. to slow down all the way. to use my hands. to bring a little something to someone that matters to me. to come close to the goodness and the grief and the mystery of it all— together. always, always together.
today, this little book goes out into the world. a book on the power of joy and hope and peace and gratitude— the things that lift us up in the midst of everyday life. i simply do not know two people who live this message out better or more than raquelle and tanya. you are both bright and kind and absolute joy through it all. i’ve watched you both choose joy when life was anything but easy. i’ve watched you choose kindness toward people again and again and again. it’s just who you are. purely tender and generous toward others, always. i’ve seen you dig deep and pull up gratitude when there was still pain or brokenness or mess right there, pressing down. you are determined to hold onto the light— to share it.
cheering you on so happily as you show up just as you are and share what you have always been— bright and bold and always adding bits of beauty in the ways that kindness and generosity and true encouragement always does.
thank you for taking the time to remind us just how much joy matters. thank you for bringing hope and joy with you everywhere you go. it’s a choice— and we are all better for it. friendship with each of you has been a gift and a treasure. a bright spot for sure.
when you have it good, don’t miss it. time in this city with a handful of people that matter most to me— it has been good. and that’s the beauty that continues to come. long conversations and meals together and walks through the park. good music and quiet mornings. winter has a way of reminding us that plenty of things are temporary. there is loss here. there is more let go than we often want. but, there is also friendship and laughter and love that lasts. right here, i’m grateful for every little good thing that hasn’t been so little in my heart lately.
walking the same streets exactly one year later and while so many things feel the same— so many things are different. i am different. there has been loss that feels too great for words. big and permanent. the kind that leaves you heavy and heartbroken and unsure how to move forward at all. the kind that you watch others walk through and wish with everything in you that you could take it away. the kind that leaves you certain that life is not fair. and also there have been gifts too sweet for thank you to ever cover. there have been good things that have found me right on time. things i didn’t know i needed and yet— here they are. sweet and full and somehow mine. so many really, really good things that i have to say thank you for. and there have good things for those that i care most about. just as sweet. it’s always a bit both both. here is what i know for sure on the other side of a year that shifted and stretched and reshaped so much. in the good and in the hard, in the receiving and the letting go— two things. we need each other. we really, really need each other. together is the only way. and also we can trust. we can trust that there will be love enough, grace enough, peace and joy enough to make it through. there has been. phone calls with family that loves and loves, dinners with friends that are safe and easy, quiet walks on my own that pull me right back to the truest peace. brand new beauty in new places and the familiar laughter of people that i would do just about anything for. there has been just enough of all of it. goodness even so. the good has buoyed me and the hard has grown me. for every last bit of all of it i can and will say— thank you. what a year. ready for all that is ahead.
to my dad, first and foremost. the one who has been there from the start— always believing in me, always reminding me to go and chase and try. always reminding me that a life well-lived is a life full of sacrifice and one that considers others first. you didn’t say it, but you’ve shown it. in a millions little ways, you’ve shown it. and to the other men in my family. every last one of you support and care and cheer in the constant ways that change a life for good. dads and uncles and friends who show up like uncles— i honor you all. good men who are gentle and strong and protective. your love builds legacies that will last. sweet and good and impossibly important.
both of my sisters become empty nesters this summer. they are celebrating their boys just before they go and live life in a new way and i can hardly believe it. i don’t know where all the days went. it feels like yesterday that they both told me they were pregnant for the first time. it was the happiest news of my life to that point, i think. i wanted to be an aunt more than anything. i wanted to hold their babies and watch them grow. and i really wanted to watch my sisters become mothers. i knew it would be sweet— but it has been so much more than that. to watch them love and care and celebrate and enjoy it all has changed me. they have been so thoughtful, so present, so steady. i watched them say no when no was hard, but needed. i watched them teach each one what it is to be hardworking and helpful and covered in character. to have the gift of watching every bit of this chapter is something i will treasure forever— because they have done it all so well. exceptional in every way, they are. and the world is better for it. four kind-hearted, courageous, world-changing people are ready and moving forward. women are incredible. moms are incredible. these two are as good as they come and to watch them parent steadily, generously, faithfully for all these years— i am better for it. what a thing to see what steady love and intentional care can mean for a life. what a thing to see the way this much love for someone else can change you and soften you and strengthen you from the inside out. celebrating the boys, for sure. but also— celebrating every bit of intentional, wise, sacrificial love that you have given. so much of all of it for so long. i have never seen anyone do it better. not anyone. thank you for showing me what is to do impossibly hard, impossibly important work well.
“good and meaningful words are so important because the words we carry become the stories we believe. and the stories we believe change the lives that we live.” i had the pleasure of being interviewed by @darling about the epidemic of loneliness in our culture and the importance of speaking kind words. i don’t have it all figured out. not even close, but i do know that the words we hand each other matter most. i know just how much the words of others have picked me back up and left me a little less alone in all of it. might we all slow down and give a few good words to someone today, anyone.
thinking of you. what a thing to know that someone remembered us in the middle of days that were painfully hard. what a thing to know that someone wanted to celebrate our good news right alongside us. what a thing to know that someone wanted to take the time to say i believe you can. i really believe you can. the power of one person slowing down long enough to leave us certain that they are right there with us in all of it. that is it. and this little box is for this very thing. to shop, click the link in @darling bio.
december, you’ve been good. the kind of good that looks like slow dinners around small tables with friends. the kind of good that looks like talking while they clean the entire restaurant up around because there are still things to say. the kind of good that looks like watching someone perform and being brought to tears— heaven on earth when someone gives a gift with absolute purity of heart. the kind of good that looks like unhurried time with old friends and new friends and then family. the kind of good that looks like putting an ornament on a tree that you bought with a friend in the tiniest shop while traveling last month. the kind of good that looks like picking out a christmas tree with friends that feel like family. their kids running around, a candy cane being just the right treat. sitting in a small theater to take in a show with a friend who has been the most steady and the most kind for 15 years now. and a text from a friend to let me know that a precious baby boy was born. there has also been hard, sure. but there is plenty of good and i’m wrapping every last bit of it up. tucking into this heart of mine. a month full of unexpected gifts— one after another after another. grateful for a year that is ended sweetly. i will never forget it.
the darling magazine is something that i have long loved. while so many things are now digital, i treasure books and magazines and letters that show up in the mail. i look forward to holding things in my actual hands. something that was created beautifully with time and thought and care. other hands did their part to shape it. i am grateful for the opportunity to share a few words in this issue. thoughts on living a life that is a little slower, a little simpler in a world that feels to be fast and seems to be getting faster. rereading these words today was a reminder to my very own heart— more rest, more peace. more time with the people we’ve been given to notice and celebrate and love. these are things worth pursuing.
august, you felt a lot like chasing the sun. chasing new ideas. chasing sunsets as they painted a warm summer sky, again. chasing every chance i had to see someone that matters to me— this month held a lot of that. chasing celebrations and brand new beginnings for those right around me. i’m carrying every bright, sweet bit of it with me.
november, you were better and more. and i think you might always feel this way. the month when the weather begins to cool and all the leaves in sight are gorgeous and golden, again. the month that makes room for the moment that we slow down with people that we love gathered around a table covered in food long enough to know once more that we have a thousand and one reasons to give thanks. this heart of mine, it knows. grateful. grateful. grateful. a long weekend with friends with nowhere to be but together. a day to remember that miracles still happen, they do. many, many meals shared with people that i enjoy and a third birthday to celebrate. the sweetest and most joyful girl is a little bigger. plenty to say thanks for, again.
a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices. — i’ve sat on these words all month long. considering what it looks like to hold onto hope. thinking about what it looks like and feels like and sounds like to rejoice while pain still presses down on you or someone you love. because in some ways i feel weary. and in so many ways people that i love are weary. i’ve had hours of conversations just this week with people who are sitting in the midst of absolute brokenness. and yet, hope. always hope. these days remind us that light came and light comes. darkness does not win. love is greater. love is far more true. i’ve seen it and felt it and known it. and so, with a thrill of hope this heart of mine rejoices. might we hold onto hope. and when those around us are weary might we be willing to offer them a little of this that sturdies us and keeps us going— we all need someone to hope for us from time to time. hold on. there is more beauty, more life, more goodness ahead. consider this my way of giving you a little of mine if you need it— hoping for good and great and beautiful things to meet you right where you are this week. keep going, there is more.
spring is popping up everywhere. and that feels a lot like hope to me. a reminder that good things, they keep coming. beauty, it keeps coming. it rises up and pushes through the heavy ground for no other reason than our delight— that we might enjoy it. gorgeous flowers just that we might notice and soak up and savor all that is sweeter and brighter right here. i hope we do. i hope we soak up every last bit. this weekend, i’m thinking a little more about hope. about new life and beauty and goodness that continues to come. about easter and all of the ways it reminds us that there is always hope. always, always hope. might we all be on the lookout for the good and the sweet things that are right here. glimmers of hope to lift us a little.
the world is broken, but all is not lost. 🤍
a little bit of time surrounded by absolute beauty was exactly what i needed today. that people give large amounts of their precious time to create beautiful things of all kinds— astonishing.
sports connect us. and that feels meaningful. what a thing to cheer alongside friends and family— to remember many memories shared watching this one team. being six when my sister was on a date with her now husband. being twenty six when my brother and i went again and again together. pretzels and hotdogs and cokes. messy nachos. shared summer nights. shared cheers. shared high fives. shared walks around the stadium wearing the same two colors.
today, shared joy. proud of the rangers. and grateful for all of the things big and small that pull us closer together. today, baseball. ❤️