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New Year, good-morning! Come and bring Us days tha

New Year, good-morning! Come and bring
Us days that smile and days that sing
Out from the drifts of swirling snow
That through the mirky midnight blow
And clutch with frosty hands and cling.
Hark! how the joy-bells chime and ring
Thy birth, and new hope set a-wing.
With hands outstretched you come; and so
New Year, good-morning!
– Alexander Maclean

January goals and my December recap are on the blog - LaraCasey.com/blog. Happy New Year, friends!

I can’t count the number of times friends have a

It’s a whole new holiday world with just the thr

It can feel like time is fleeting at moments and m $It can feel like time is fleeting at moments and moving too fast for us to catch up. Ari and I were talking last night about the various reflection points we’ve experienced in life. Some we plan with intention, others simply happen, and all shift our steps - even in small ways. Many times, though, those smaller shifts make the biggest changes in our direction. If a ship’s captain changes course by even a small fraction, the destination is different. The change of the seasons, meaningful holidays, milestones, anniversaries - of good things and hard things - and traditions help us pause, remember what matters, and consider our course. Grieving my dad has been one of these experiences lately, helping me see what matters and live more wholeheartedly right now. Quite simply: reflection reaps rewards. It’s so easy to forget the good and forget the big picture, but the pauses I’ve had in my PowerSheets over these many years, seasons, and months have helped me remember. I love the intentional process of remembering and taking small steps. It has never happened perfectly, but it has added up - just as my garden is full of weeds, yet it’s still a garden. I am eagerly looking forward to pausing again in a new set of PowerSheets (I chose Garden Arches!) to reflect, let go, and dream anew. May you all have peace and joy in your own reflection points. Consider the wildflowers. The small things really are the big things. Wildflowers from Grace and a favorite memory from the @cultivatewhatmatters shoot earlier this summer - what you can’t see is my sweet kiddos tossing flower petal confetti in the wings. They loved every minute!$

Dear Friends, it is my joy to share that Cultivate

On behalf of my mom, Celia, and our family, we wan

On behalf of my mom, Celia, and our family, we wanted to let you know that my Dad was welcomed home yesterday. He made the journey to home hospice 11 days ago - 10 more days than we thought we’d have with him. He held on till right after his 87th birthday, where he was surrounded by family and friends and joy — just what he wanted. I've had treasured time with him the last months, singing with him in the hospital (all his favorite jazz and classic musicals, of course) and talking about seeing the Lord soon. God is faithful. Dad came to faith just a decade ago, at the age of 77. If you knew him, you know he was your biggest cheerleader. He believed in you and your dreams. Dad gave us vision to see what matters most and how to love people well.

It was a beautiful day in Gulf Breeze—a "perfect 10," as dad would say. His breathing changed, and we knew his time was nearing. We spent a long time with him together, telling him how much we love him. Mom poured out love and devotion. Stephen cared for him just as he would have wanted. Dad settled for a bit, and I stayed so they could rest for a moment. I sang two of dad's favorites - "This Little Light of Mine" by Sam Cooke and "Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley - and God decided it would be me there for his last breath. I assured him that his faith was about to become sight. I’ve never walked someone home before, and to be there for my dad leaves me without words. I called Stephen in the other room. He came in just as dad went home.

And now life is different. When the gentlemen from the funeral home came, the hospice nurse held me and said, "This will be hard. One day, you'll be able to come into this room without your heart aching, but not for a long while. It won't go away. It will change, but it will always be there." Those words were what I needed to hear. The degree of our sadness and grief is directly proportional to the amount of love we shared. We will always have that.

Dad finished every phone call and visit with me for the last decade with these words I now cherish: "Bye, bye, blues!" No more sadness or tears or pain—the blues are gone away, indeed, Dad. We love you and miss you terribly.

16 years of marriage today, by God’s grace and g

16 years of marriage today, by God’s grace and goodness! A year into our marriage, right after Ari returned from deployment to Iraq, we listened to Gary Chapman‘s 5 Love Languages in the car while driving from his base in Yuma, Arizona, back to California. We kept giggling at how the author said “recreational vehicle“ and it became a thing in our marriage. We’ve even had a recreational vehicle ornament for a decade as a reminder of that post-deployment drive—so grateful to be safely together again. This year, God made it clear to us that life is short and we only get so many years with our children. A real RV brings us full circle. We couldn’t be more grateful for these 16 years. P.S. All the RV tips are welcome. We are learning a whole new language together. Sure did try to drive away with the wheel chocks still in place last weekend. We are laughing at ourselves a LOT!

There is no fear in love...

1 John 4:18

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