A Weekend of Joy

Sometimes the best weekends are the ones that would sound completely uneventful to someone else.

This weekend, I'm headed to a cabin with a friend. There were no packed itineraries, no sightseeing schedules, no pressure to "make the most of every minute."

Instead, there were books. Coloring books. Coffee. 

Conversations that wandered wherever they wanted to go. And naps. 

Years ago, I might have thought that sounded boring. Somewhere along the way, I bought into the idea that a memorable weekend had to be filled with activities, constant motion, and stories exciting enough to post online.

Now? This sounds like exactly what my soul has been asking for.

There is something deeply restorative about giving yourself permission to simply exist. To lose yourself in the pages of a good book. To color without worrying whether you're any good at it. To laugh with friends over absolutely nothing important.

We spend so much of our lives rushing from one responsibility to the next that rest can almost feel uncomfortable. But maybe that's exactly why we need it.

Sometimes adventure looks like climbing a mountain, but it can also look like opening a book, finding the perfect shade of green for a tree, and realizing you haven't looked at your phone in hours.

I don't think that's boring. I think that's healing.