This, below, is one of my new favorite views. There’s something about our larger, lower kitchen island (peninsula?) that draws the kids in, and I reliably field one, if not two or three, requests for an assignment while cooking dinner each night. On this evening, Annie was trimming green beans while Shep minced garlic and I pulled together the rest of the chicken piccata meatballs. (Shep was so proud of himself for learning a new task and using a “big knife” that he had me take a video to show John later.) More of this in January, please. On my calendar:— June’s tenth birthday. I love her so.— At least five meals with friends, at our home or theirs. Starting strong with our hospitality goal despite raging illness on the East Coast.— Seeing the Charlotte Hornets play. This was John’s big Christmas gift; we’re both excited to attend our first NBA game and see Duke favorite Kon Knueppel in action. What I’m loving right now:— We saw David in theatres with friends and loved it! The kids have been asking to listen to the soundtrack ever since.— We bought our first smart plug after realizing it was nearly impossible to plug and unplug our Christmas tree lights in our new set-up and — wow. Saying “Alexa, please turn off the tree lights” feels like magic. My kind of technology :)— John gave me this navy sweater jacket for Christmas and it’s my new favorite thing to wear. Sometimes I’ll layer a white tee underneath, but it can also be worn as-is, buttoned up. Ladylike but also somehow casual enough for weekday mom life? As a reminder, you can find allll the things I’ve loved over the last few years neatly organized right here! What you’re loving right now: This is where

“To George Bailey, the richest man in the world!” This quote is how I intended to begin my 2025 Year in Review post, a staple of Em for Marvelous for over a decade. I’ve actually never missed recapping a year since I began, in 2012, the year John and I were married. But alas, here we are, and between Christmas magic, traveling to California to be with family, hosting family at our home, and weathering the flu, it simply did not happen. No matter. The year itself happened, and I am grateful for it. I am rich in every measurement that matters — my faith, my family, my community, my health — and several more besides: my home, my work, my passions. I am so grateful for the opportunity to dream about a new year, to make a few plans for it, and to live them forward day by day. And even more, to hold fast to the Christian faith that promises that the fullest life is found when we lay down our own vision for our life and agree with God’s vision, which may look similar and may look wildly different. In that spirit, here are a few of my goals for 2026. 1. Speak words of affirmation over John and my children. The power of life and death is in the tongue; I have seen how everyone around me can bloom with loving words and wilt in their absence. This is a hard one to measure or track and I don’t really intend to; instead, I want to spend a few minutes brainstorming what messages feel most important to communicate to each of my children and write a little list somewhere I’ll see it every day. I know keeping it in sight will help it flow from desire

What a difference a month makes! Over the last few weeks, my perspective on our new home has steadily shifted: from a feeling of dislocation (and frenetic energy to make it less so) to a feeling of almost total peace and contentment. Yes, there are still things I’d like to do over time, and there is still artwork leaning against the wall and a bin of things to give away, but in the midst of it all I feel at home. While it’s tempting to attribute this cozy, settled feeling to the familiar Christmas decorations that now surround us, this shift predated them all. Time, and the way it makes space for rational sense to take root, definitely played a role. What made the biggest difference, however, was two things: the gentle encouragement from those around us to embrace this in-between stage (including many of you in the comments – truly, it made an impact!) and welcoming loved ones into our home. In November alone we hosted three families for dinner, a pair of pals for post-kid-bedtime chatting, and the inaugural Articles Club at our new address (not to mention neighborhood friends crashing in and out on a regular basis). While these gatherings revealed a few gaps (fitting ten in our dining room was a tight squeeze!), they much more so shone a spotlight on all the best parts of our new home: the kitchen island it’s so easy to gather around, the flat cul-de-sac and big backyard that so safely allow kids to run and play, the aerie-like loft that so generously houses our kids as they stretch out and create. Our friends’ presence and encouragement allowed me to see our home through their eyes — to see what I couldn’t quite yet see on my own — and

Hello, friends! This last month has held multitudes. We spent the first half packing up our first home and the second half settling into our new home. We weathered the news of the original buyers backing out – and went under contract with new buyers – all while the movers shuttled our belongings between houses (a wild day). We’ve now met every neighbor on our cul-de-sac. We have loved walking to school most days. I have thoroughly enjoyed the process of purging, tossing on-the-fence items with glee and freedom. Our maple out the front windows has been ablaze and an abundance of squirrels are frolicking in the backyard with abandon. Megan McArdle once wrote about how young adults setting off on their own subconsciously expect to start at their parents’ standard of living – which is, of course, the standard their parents ascended to over a lifetime, and likely far from where they started as young adults. They want to shop at the same stores, eat the same foods, take the same vacations, and live in the same sort of house with the same sort of furnishings. When their budget or circumstances don’t allow them to continue in “the style to which they’ve become accustomed,” they can feel cheated. John and I had (and have) plenty of failings, but this was not one. I’ve written before about how we mostly reveled in our scrappy phase, that time of our lives when cardboard boxes were our coffee tables and splitting a Chipotle burrito was a grand night out. I’ve been thinking about this idea a lot lately, wondering about its relevance to my current predicament. I find myself impatient that our home does not feel like us, that it does not feel “finished.” Which, when I write it out, seems absolutely