I try to write once a week. Sometimes it flows; sometimes it’s like trying to squeeze toothpaste out of an empty tube. I’ll sit there, staring at my screen, convincing myself that if I just think hard enough, something brilliant will pop into my brain. Spoiler: it usually doesn’t.
But this week, something did.
A really good friend of mine has been battling breast and lung cancer for the past year. And recently, she got the news everyone dreams of hearing — no cancer found. Clear. Gone. A huge, deep-breath, full-body celebration moment.
She shared an update with her friends and family — a beautiful reflection on everything she’s been through. What stuck with me wasn’t just the relief or the gratitude, but the clarity she’s found. She said that every day feels sacred and divine now.
And it made me stop and think: How do we find that level of appreciation without needing a crisis to shake us awake?
Because let’s be honest — most of us aren’t walking around in a state of enlightened gratitude. We’ve got alarms blaring at 5 a.m., lunches to pack, jobs to do, bills to pay, and phones that constantly remind us of things we haven’t done yet. It’s a lot.
And still… life is good. Really good.
I have a healthy body. A healthy family. A safe home. An amazing community. Every morning as I back out of my driveway on the way to my 5:30 a.m. workout, I try to take a moment to actually think about those things. It’s become a quiet little ritual — a gratitude check before the business of the day begins.
But I also have my moments. The days when I feel restless or unfulfilled, even though I know how lucky I am. And I don’t want to wait for tragedy or loss to snap me back into appreciation mode.
So I try to create little pauses throughout my day. Moments to just be. No phone, no scrolling, no multitasking. Just breathing and noticing what matters.
Because when I do that, everything feels different — lighter, calmer, more grounded.
For me, it’s the small things: reading a few pages of a good book with a cat on my lap, learning a new tap dance combo, or watching my son grow into this wildly curious, funny little human — all without the distraction of a glowing screen in my hand.
Those are my sacred moments. And I think that’s the secret: you don’t have to wait for a life-altering event to remind you of what matters. You just have to look for it in the middle of the ordinary.
So here’s your reminder — Find the moments that fill your cup. Notice them. Protect them. Do what makes you happy — before life forces you to slow down.
“Find your sacred moments in the middle of the ordinary.”