From Safari Views to Living Room Grace
Going into 2026, one idea kept coming up in my quiet time with God: the domestic monastery.
It sounds a little intense at first, but the concept is actually really simple. It’s the idea that the home can be a sacred place of spiritual formation. That the daily work of raising kids, loving your spouse, managing a household, and showing up again and again in the ordinary is not separate from your calling. It is your calling.
Motherhood isn’t a pause in purpose. It’s a place where purpose is refined.
That was the posture I wanted to carry into the new year. Less striving, less comparing, less feeling like I needed to be somewhere else or doing something more impressive. More faithfulness. More presence. More surrender.
What the “domestic monastery” has been teaching me.
One of the biggest shifts for me has been realizing that God is not only found in long quiet times or big spiritual moments. He is found in the daily acts of love and sacrifice.
Raising small children naturally pulls you away from the center of social life. There’s less recognition. Less status. Fewer obvious wins. A lot of your work is hidden and repetitive.
But what if that isn’t a loss? What if it’s an invitation?
An invitation to:
Learn empathy and unselfishness
Put your own needs second
Discover the value of hidden work
Surrender your time back to God.
I’ve been sitting with this truth: my time is not my own. And instead of resenting that, I’m learning to see it as something sacred. My days are full because they are full of people who need love, guidance, correction, comfort, and presence. That is not small work. That is eternal work.
My work is a sacrament.
My family is a monastery.
My home is a sanctuary.
Then we went to South Africa.
Right in the middle of all of this, Joseph and I left for a two week anniversary trip to South Africa.
It’s stunning. The views are spectacular. One day we were looking at dramatic mountains (think Austria or Switzerland!), the next we were by the ocean, then out on safari watching wildlife in the open bush. It was so diverse and so beautiful.
It was the kind of trip that stretches your perspective. You feel small in the best way. You’re reminded that God is big, creative, and completely beyond anything you can control or manage.
Standing in places that felt so wild and grand, I kept thinking about how grateful I am for the life waiting for me back home.
What South Africa reminded me about my life at home.
In South Africa, I saw the majesty of God. At home, I experience the nearness of God.
The same God who shaped those mountains and oceans is the One who meets me at the breakfast table, in the laundry room, during school drop offs, and at bedtime prayers.
I’m not coming home to something small or insignificant. I’m coming home to sacred ground.
The idea of the domestic monastery hit even deeper after this trip. The beauty of South Africa showed me how grand God is. But motherhood shows me how close He is.
Out there, creation points to His power.
At home, my children point me to His heart.
Encouragement for the return home.
If you’re in a season like mine (raising kids, managing a home, doing a lot of unseen work), I want to remind you:
You are not “just” a stay at home mom.
You are shaping souls.
You are building a culture.
You are discipling little hearts.
You are creating a sanctuary.
Few callings are as spiritually refining as motherhood. It forces you to confront your selfishness, grow in patience, and love in ways that cost you something. And that kind of love looks a lot like Jesus.
When I walk back through my front door (well, technically we go through the back door), I don’t want to think, “Back to the grind.” I want to think, “Here is Holy.”
Because it is.
A few truths (and words of affirmation) I’m carrying into this season.
My home is sacred ground.
I am graced for this season.
God is with me in every ordinary moment.
My work in the home has eternal impact.
My time belongs to God, and He orders my days.
Love and prayer sustain my home.
Lord,
Thank you for the privilege of this season.
Help me see my home as holy ground.
Teach me patience, empathy, and unselfish love.
Remind me that my time belongs to You.
Fill me with peace and strength for the daily work.
Let my children feel Your love through me.
Make our home a sanctuary where your presence dwells.
Amen.
If the days feel long or ordinary, this is the phrase I’m carrying with me:
Here is Holy. Right here, in the middle of the mess, the noise, the laundry, the carpool, the bedtime stories. God is here.
