This Season is Not Wasted

January 8, 2025

As I approach 40, I find myself thinking about life as both vision and reality.

The vision has always been clear—shaped by images from movies, reels, and quiet moments of imagining what could be. A life where we are not scraping by, but thriving. A life where our work matters, where our family has margin, where what we build reaches beyond our own walls and blesses the wider community.

And then there is the reality.

Unfinished tasks lighting up my screen.
Laundry spilling from baskets onto floors and furniture.
Dishes waiting in the sink.
Counters crowded with reminders of everything still undone.

It feels endless.

Chores.

Things that demand attention, effort, and mastery. Things that never really disappear—only improve or deteriorate based on how faithfully they’re handled. Neglect costs more later. Consistency compounds quietly.

And yet, chores are not meaningless. They are training grounds.

They teach discipline.
They reveal gaps in skill.
They offer daily invitations to grow.

My daughter Aria doesn’t yet take pride in making rice—though she can, with help. Not every eight-year-old can. And yet, there are younger children who have already mastered it. Progress looks different in every season, in every household.

I want to teach my children about money—how to earn it, steward it, grow it, and circulate it with wisdom. I want them to understand effort, value, and long-term thinking.

And the truth is, I’m still learning those lessons myself.

This year, I turn 40.
My oldest will be 9.
My baby will be 2.

I anticipate the day when I can sit down with uninterrupted focus and build the business I know I’m capable of building. But I also feel, deeply, that the window for morning snuggles and nighttime cuddles is narrowing faster than I’d like to admit.

These days are numbered.

And when this season passes—when the house is quieter and my time is finally my own—I want my children to remember this:

That their mother was present.
That she kept showing up.
That she carried the weight of survival while laying the groundwork for something better.

I may not be living the dream yet.
But at 40, I am no longer just dreaming.

I am learning.
I am building.
I am doing the work—one chore, one lesson, one faithful day at a time.

And this season, as heavy as it feels, is not wasted.