Summer always feels like a breath of fresh air. Longer days. Slower mornings. More time with the people I love. But tucked beneath the sunshine is a quiet awareness that fall isn’t far off. Routines will tighten. Schedules will fill. And if I’m honest, the weight of a new school year often feels heavier than I’m ready for.
This year brings its own shift. I’ll have two high schoolers, my youngest will begin his final year of elementary school, and for the first time since returning post-COVID, I won’t be rejoining my team in the classroom. A new season is coming, and I can feel it already.
So this summer, I’m doing things differently.
My youngest has ADHD, an often misunderstood neurodiverse reality (more on that later), and structure is key to helping him transition well. We’re working through the Catch-Up Math workbook, my favorite resource as both an educator and a parent, and reading through the Illustrated Harry Potter Collection together.
I create a one-page schedule that lays it all out: camps, VBS, family trips, and the responsibilities too. It’s not rigid. It’s just clear. And that clarity helps bring peace to our home. He earns limited screen time by completing tasks with a good attitude. It’s the right rhythm for his dopamine-driven brain.
Our older girls may not need charts anymore, but they still need presence. I want to be available for late-night conversations, college discussions, tough math questions (better answered by their dad), music at the piano, and the everyday moments I’ll miss if I’m not paying attention.
And when it comes to my husband, I want home to be his safe space. Not just a place where he’s loved, but where he’s met by his best friend. I want to be ready to listen, to help carry his stress, and to ease the mental load that comes with the demands of leadership. I want him to look forward to walking through the door because home feels like a haven, not a source of chaos.
Summer may still be full, but the pace is gentler. And I want to use it well—not just to rest, but to invest. In relationships. In rhythms that restore. In a pace that reflects my values, not just my calendar.
That means guarding my first priorities. Before I say yes to anything outside our home, I’m asking myself a few honest questions.
- Am I uniquely wired for this, or is someone else better equipped?
- Is this a real need, or am I just filling a gap?
- If another option existed, would I still say yes?
These questions help me lead with purpose instead of pressure.
At home, the answer is always clearer. Their emotions, their energy, their need for support—those come first. Which means I need wide margins for everything else I try to carry.
It might mean saying no to good things. But it also means saying yes to what matters most.
Even summer learning stays simple. Light, flexible, and calm. Because I’ve learned that when I slow down and lead with intention, there’s more room for joy. More peace. Not because everything is easy, but because I’m no longer rushing past what matters most.
I don’t know exactly what September will bring. But I know the One who holds us through it. And that’s enough.
This season, choose presence over pressure.
In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength. — Isaiah 30:15
Grace in the Disarray 