We have raised our kids in a wonderful community - Boerne, Texas. I’ve watched courageous citizens fight to protect the charm, character, and beauty that make a town feel like home. And that is what it takes to preserve a town - citizens willing to fight for it.

Now the fight is coming to Mona. Mona is roughly 10 times smaller than Boerne. A town without a stoplight, where kids run around without shoes and ride their horses to the only business in town - a bakery. Yet a $10 billion data center development has been approved for this historic Utah town, without any locals informed of the project until approval was given.

What happens when the economic value of a place becomes more important than its cultural and environmental value? Developers will go where they are allowed to go. Increasingly, it feels as though small towns are becoming targets precisely because they can be easier to develop quietly: fewer people, fewer resources, and fewer voices with the power to push back.

Once a small town surrenders to unrestrained commercial development, what exactly are we left with? A country of strip malls, billboards, and data centers. But we are meant to be protectors of our heritage and environment.

If it can happen in a town as unsuited, historic, and breathtakingly beautiful as Mona, there is no town that is safe.

If you’re in Utah, or if you simply care about preserving small towns, please read and share this article with someone who should see it. Getting enough voices of opposition is really the only chance Mona has of survival.

Deseret News Article

https://www.deseret.com/opinion/2026/08/30/mona-utah-gone-forever-data-centers/?fbclid=IwY2xjawUBalxwZG9mBWV4dG4DYWVtAjEwAGJyaWQRMUNWZFVPTVVWMGRmVGdEOXRzcnRjBmFwcF9pZBAyMjIwMzkxNzg4MjAwODkyAAEebX1KhEB8sL5rFCOwSY-BxDHCEW-MkglBBrooK_7dWYBCHkp1_AVlyXsJUmQ_aem_ib9BWrEdKM0MeYih8TGN7g

Linked is my essay published by Deseret News on the value of family culture.

https://www.deseret.com/opinion/2026/07/06/dont-resent-parents-for-religious-traditions/

A few years ago we took some of our kids to the Alhambra in Spain. At the park entrance there was a delay caused by the workers for some reason. By the time we had walked up to the palace, we had missed our entry time. We tried to explain that the delay wasn’t our fault, but it didn’t matter. The computer would no longer accept the ticket. There were no tickets left, so we didn’t get to see the palace.

Explaining was useless because the computer had made its decision, and no human could now overturn it. It was the first time I really experienced the inhumanity of handing over decision-making to technology.

The same frustration shows up all over our technological world. If you didn’t know you had to pre-book tickets, too bad, you can’t buy them at the gate. Don’t have your phone? Sorry, they only take Venmo. Little by little we’ve accepted systems that are excellent at enforcing rules but incapable of extending grace.

That experience made me wonder where else we’ve quietly handed judgment over to machines. The World Cup has provided another fascinating example.

Don’t get me wrong, I have thoroughly enjoyed the tournament. My family and I have watched almost every game. But the cold precision of technology has become part of the World Cup story.

Many of the biggest calls are now being turned over to VAR, the video assistant referee. The idea makes sense. Soccer has suffered from some famously bad calls over the years. Maradona’s “Hand of God” goal is one of the most infamous examples. If technology can eliminate obvious mistakes, why wouldn’t we use it?

But can technology really replace human judgment?

In the recent USA Bosnia and Herzegovina game, our leading scorer Folarin Balogun got a red card. He had fallen on the foot of another player and honestly it did look awful when frozen in slow motion. But a human referee can see more than a single frame. He can see that Balogun lifted his foot, suggesting there was no malicious intent. He can judge the speed of the play, the momentum of both players, and the fact that the opponent was able to continue. Many referees might have decided to “let the boys play”, or at least reached a different conclusion.

I am not even a Croatia fan, but last night’s offside call struck me as an even more troubling example. In fact the injustice of it kept me up last night composing this essay. In the final seconds of extra time, Croatia appeared to score a dramatic equalizer against Portugal. Our whole family watching erupted. The Croatian players collapsed in celebration, believing they had rescued their tournament.

Then VAR intervened.

The replay showed the ball passing in front of a Croatian attacker. If he touched it, the goal was offside. But no replay showed any visible contact. The ball never changed direction. No referee, player, or fan could see a touch. Yet the sensor inside the ball detected one so the referee deferred to the tech. Croatia’s tournament ended because of contact so slight it may have been caused by the player’s hair, only a computer could perceive it.

Is that really more just? Or is it merely more precise?

We often assume technology is more logical than people. But real logic doesn’t ignore context; it weighs it. Computers can process enormous amounts of information, but only the information they’ve been programmed to recognize.

Soccer is a complicated sport played by complicated human beings. We don’t always know whether a player is seriously hurt or putting on a performance. We don’t always know whether a dangerous tackle came from malice, clumsiness, or simple momentum. Human referees can consider those things because they are human too. They understand intention, emotion, and imperfection from the inside.

The human referees are beginning to feel like the droids serving the Empire. Once the machine has spoken, they simply carry out its decision, to do otherwise would now seem unjust.

Maybe you think that’s a worthwhile trade. Maybe eliminating human error is worth sacrificing human judgment.

But I’ll take human imperfection over robotic coldness any day. Yes, humans make mistakes. But they also extend grace. They recognize context. They can show mercy.

As technology becomes more capable, this won’t just be a question for soccer. It will affect travel, banking, medicine, and even our justice system.

So when human beings make mistakes when they hand out judgment we get angry. We argue. We appeal. Sometimes we even convince them they were wrong. Justice has always involved more than a verdict; it has involved another human being willing to listen.

But who can Croatia be angry with? Who can Balogun plead his case to? No one argues with a computer. There is no conversation, no explanation, no mercy, only a verdict.

True justice is not blind. A society where we trust technology to replace human judgment, where we can no longer appeal to another person’s reason, compassion, or even sight, may be more efficient, but isn’t it less humane?

-Ally

I recently had the distinct honor of hosting a baby at my house. I can’t think of another guest who would have made such an indelible impression. My 26-year-old nephew and his wife have a four-month-old and came to visit for a few glorious days. Oh, how I have been missing babies!

My five kids all begged for turns holding this bouncing little boy, usually prying him from my arms. There was a lighthearted joy and mirth in our home that really only a baby can bring, a feeling increasingly rare in a culture unsure whether children are blessings at all.

I was so grateful that my kids had that time with their little cousin, now that their siblings are older. Perhaps they had forgotten how wonderful babies are; I’m glad this little boy could remind them. They heard him cry. They saw that his mother was tired from waking in the night, they smelled as their cousin changed his son’s dirty diapers, but none of that seemed to matter much compared to the quality of the little guy himself.

The joy and laughter, and the renewal a beautiful baby brings into a home and into our hearts, is not replicable by anything else. And as those babies grow, the blessings continue.

The particular kind of unconditional love and quick forgiveness we feel for a curious toddler who has just tipped over our favorite vase is found in no other relationship. The daily monotonous duties we perform, with no hope of repayment, for growing children, would cause resentment if done for anyone else. The mix of pride and dread we feel as a teenage son grows up and finds a new beloved woman is a unique blend of reticence and relief, found only in the bond between a loving parent and child.

A life full of children is a life lived more abundantly, where virtues are tested more vigorously, and weakness is exposed more openly - and where love becomes a daily healing balm. Children don’t just add value to life; they can make life feel valuable. Dostoevsky said, “Children soothe and heal the wounded heart.”

Life in many seasons and circumstances can be abundant and joyful, especially in the presence of faith and hope. And wounds can be healed in many kinds of relationships.

Yet, as our world turns more and more away from seeing children as a blessing, fewer souls are healed, and life can feel less valuable. Each new child renews the world, and if there were no new children, life itself would end.

How do we shift a societal trend so stark that many signs show there will be a population decline across much of the developed world within sixty years? Even religious communities’ birth rates are plummeting.

It won’t be easy. In previous generations, when the birthrate was higher, your little siblings, young cousins, and kids running around the neighborhood built up your view of life and expectations of your future. You learned how to play with kids, and you took joy in their crazy antics.

Now, for many, encountering and having a relationship with babies and little kids is rare. The idea of them is more abstract for young people who have missed having memorable and positive experiences with them. People rarely long for what has become abstract to them.

Rather than being built around relationships, our culture has become consumerist and technological. In a society like this, relying on our natural instincts to produce the next generation of babies isn’t working.

If it isn’t sacrilegious to compare a child to a product, the best way to get people to try something new is often through exposure. I finally caved and bought the new Thin Mint Frosty after seeing it, hearing it raved about, and getting just a small taste of it. Babies are like that. They sell themselves. Real-life babies.

Not the “babies” tired mothers complain about on Instagram, or the ones described as obstacles to success by so many singers and actresses. What we often see and hear referred to online are not babies in the fullness of their humanity, but objects getting in the way - central figures in portrayals of exhaustion, inconvenience, and sacrifice detached from the love that makes duties and sacrifices light.

I remember that feeling of exhaustion and inconvenience well, waking for my newborn’s 3rd feeding at 5 am. Somehow, the feeling dissipated as soon as I picked up my adorable infant.

It’s the real, living babies that convince us we want one of our own. The ones we get to hold and laugh with, who enliven our soul, who activate something deep in us - a maternal and paternal instinct which we share with the hundreds of generations who preceded us.

Real babies put life into perspective, they help us reorient our priorities and they give us reason for hope.

As babies become more rare, their presence in our lives becomes more powerful and potentially transformative. As the youngest child in my family, I was rather apathetic towards babykind until I had one of my own, and then the love affair quickly began.

If you have children who aren’t familiar with the joy of babies, invite those babies into our homes however we can. Babysit, invite people with babies over for dinner, or better yet, if you can, just have another one of your own.

Let us show our children that not only do we value them, but we glory in all children. And let them discover for themselves the blessed worth of babies.

Who knows, maybe then they will start planning out a life where they have a few of their own. But for now, my kids just keep asking when the baby will visit again.

This piece was Published by the Deseret News

https://www.deseret.com/opinion/2026/05/30/encountering-babies-is-rare-in-the-us/

As mothers, we have relevant concerns with the future and the past shapes our perspectives and habits – but what we do today, with the precious child before us at this moment, is what ultimately matters. Let’s live this moment before us and be glad in it.

Some quotes on the value of living in the Present:

The best preparation for the future is the present well seen to, and the last duty done.” -George MacDonald

“The most painful state of being is remembering the future, particularly the one you’ll never have.” - Søren Kierkegaard

This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it (Psalm 118: 24).

“Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” Matthew 6:34

“He, therefore, I believe, wants them to attend chiefly to two things, to eternity itself, and to that point of time, which they call the Present. For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity. Of the present moment, and of it only, humans have an experience analogous to the experience which [God] has of reality as a whole; in it alone freedom and actuality are offered them. He would therefore have them continually concerned either with eternity or with the Present–either meditating on their eternal union with, or separation from, Himself, or else obeying the present voice of conscience, bearing the present cross, receiving the present grace, giving thanks for the present pleasure.” -C.S. Lewis

“The future, good or ill, was not forgotten, but ceased to have any power over the present. Health and hope grew strong in them, and they were content with each good day as it came, taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

“The future is a blank wall on which every man can write his own name as large as he likes.” -G.K. Chesterton

“Wipe out the imagination. Stop the pulling of the strings…. Think of your last hour. Let the wrong that is done by a man stay there where the wrong was done.” -Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

“We live only in the present, in this fleet-footed moment. The rest is lost and behind us, or ahead of us, and may never be found.” -Marcus Aurelius, Emperor’s Handbook

“In Giving, a man receives more than he gives; and the more is in proportion to the worth of the thing given.”

George MacDonald

Here, MacDonald uses the general pronoun “man” for mankind. But women are specifically called to give, and we, and the world at large, receive through the giving. In having a child, we give that which is of much “worth”. Pregnancy is often difficult, birth is painful, and rearing a child is all-consuming. We sacrifice our bodies, time, and comfort to bring new life into the world.

Mary, the mother of Christ, was visited by an angel to inform her that she would be the mother of the Messiah. She was an unwed woman and knew the judgment she would receive from her community. Before her lay a difficult road, perhaps more difficult than she could imagine- suffering on the road to Bethlehem, a traumatic birth in a stable, fleeing to Egypt, and the eventual crucifixion of her beloved son. Yet when the angel appeared to young Mary, he said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.” To which is replied, “I am the Lord’s servant, may your word to me be fulfilled.”

Mary was not naive to the hardship she would face, but she was faithful. She trusted the words of the angel, which told her she was “highly favored”. Later, her cousin Elizabeth, who had Mary’s condition revealed to her through the Spirit, proclaimed to her: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?”

The word “favored” is used again by Elizabeth. It signifies honor. Mary, a woman of no worldly significance or power, had the honor of carrying, delivering, and raising the Savior of the world, as His mother.

We, women, are highly favored in our opportunity to become mothers. Having a child is an immense blessing of eternal significance. Being a Mother is much more than the physical hardships or sacrifices – it is the spiritual blessing of raising a beloved son or daughter of God. This bond between Mother and Child is eternal. Christ’s thoughts turned to his mother in the moments before his death; his final words instructed his apostles to care for her.

Oftentimes, we may not be able to discern how our sacrifice will return to us, but we trust that it will. With the birth of our own son or daughter, we renew humanity. Each child we give the world brings renewed compassion, intellect, insight, revelation, will, and beauty to humanity. When I look upon any of my own precious children, I see a gift of great worth, a worth that far exceeds my giving.

“Every child begins the world again.”

Henry David Thoreau

“Our life always expresses the result of our dominant thoughts.”

Soren Kierkegaard

We must be careful with our thoughts – Our thoughts shape the lens through which we see the world and, in many ways, the course of our lives.

Our thoughts direct our decisions and our reactions to the actions of others. If we engage our ability, born of free will, to shift our thinking, to turn from a degrading thought to an uplifting one, we can, thought by thought, build a life of joy.

“Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.”

Carl Jung

Aristotle said, “Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.” To gain the wisdom necessary for a happy life, we must witness the nature of our internal world and how our thoughts are revealing themselves in our lives.

Over the years, I have been plagued with discontented thoughts. “When we move, then things will be better.” “If only I could travel more.” “My laundry room is just too small!” These ideas have been extremely unhelpful in my life. When they linger, they keep me from appreciating the bountiful blessings that surround me. When I take the time to notice these discontented ideas taking space in my mind, I try to stop and shift to gratitude. Two thoughts cannot occupy the same mind at the same time. Through prayer or pondering, we can shift our focus.

If we find ourselves disproportionately angry or hurt by something, we should examine what thoughts have been ignited: “She thinks she is better than me,” “He never cared about me,” “I am not enough”. If we can examine the thoughts, as disinterestedly as possible, we can search for clues to the source of such thinking. We can determine if these thoughts are helpful or harmful.

“Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.”

Carl Jung

Examining our thoughts takes introspection and often a struggle against our own nature. If we have a more negative disposition, the quest will be arduous. It is painful to admit to the destructive nature of many of our thoughts. We may uncover envy, bitterness, and cynicism driving many of our ruminations. But the first step is to notice – to be a witness to our own thinking – and be honest enough to admit to the harm our thoughts may be doing. The next time we see a tired, old, negative thought pop up, we can let it pass away – seeing it for the devil it is.

If we want our life and relationships to improve, reigning in negative thoughts is crucial. Abraham Lincoln, a man with a life full of suffering and tribulation, said, “Folks are usually about as happy as they make their minds up to be.” We must make up our minds. When we do, we will transform our thoughts, and our lives can begin to express the happy desires of our thoughts.

-Ally

As someone thinks within himself, so is he. Proverbs 23:7

“Through discipline comes freedom.”

Aristotle

Eight years. Nearly 1/5th of my life and 100% of my son’s life. That is how long it has taken him to learn to wear his seatbelt. Every time we get in the car, I sing my little ditty, “Buckle, buckle, buckle”. I wait for the children to get buckled – and off we go. And yet if I forget to check after my ditty, if I assume they know by now, I will inevitably look back and see one of my “under-8s” roaming around the van, untethered. They are distracted by a bug on the window, are fighting over leg room, or are using any number of other excuses. By 8 years old, something seems to click, and I don’t have to badger them anymore about seatbelts. On to the next habit-formation.

Scientists say it takes 66 days to develop a habit. I don’t know what kids they are raising. Nevertheless, the work of habit-building must be done. And done by us. When it is done, it pays off big-time – it is the bedrock of self-control.

As our world becomes increasingly steeped in materialist and subjectivist philosophy, adjectives like disciplined, dutiful, and self-sacrificing have shifted from their former place as terms of admiration to becoming terms of ridicule.

Instead, we honor self-fulfillment, living our truth, and extravagance. Our society has toppled the previously held ideals – the pursuit of truth and virtue – and chosen self-interest instead.

But as parents, we see the effects when children are not schooled in virtue and when good habits are not ingrained from the beginning of life. It rarely turns out well for anybody. Children without self-control are no closer to fulfillment, but grow to be slaves to their weaker natures. 

It may be “judgmental” to say that a life full of good habits, a belief in duty, and a willingness to forgo momentary pleasure – is more rewarding and beneficial than one of self-indulgence, but this judgment will always prove true. So we must “train up our children in the way they should go”, not as a tyrant rules their subjects, but as a loving teacher, through example and training. 

Self-control is built in the rhythms of a mother singing “buckle, buckle, buckle” – or “eat your veggies” or “no TV till chores”. It feels like it will never kick in – but it will. If we are disciplined, they will learn discipline. They may even learn that being “tethered” enables freedom and creativity. The quotes and clips below may help motivate us in this rarely appreciated but crucial duty of motherhood – discipline-building.

“Educate your children to self-control, to the habit of holding passion and prejudice and evil tendencies subject to an upright and reasoning will, and you have done much to abolish misery from their future and crimes from society.”

Benjamin Franklin

 “Discipline is the precondition for freedom.  Much of the development of skill is painful repetition…the sacrifice of the present for the future, but once you manage that, then things open up for you.”

Jordan Peterson

“A great deal of the current cult of pleasure, of luxury, of liberty in love, and all the rest of it, appears to me to be perfectly childish; and childish in the literal sense that it is greedy without any grasp of consequences.”

G.K. Chesterton: Illustrated London News, May 18, 1929.

“Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”

George Bernard Shaw

“Willpower is what separates us from the animals. It’s the capacity to restrain our impulses, resist temptation – do what’s right and good for us in the long run, not what we want to do right now. It’s central, in fact, to civilization.”

Roy Baumeister

“There is a battle of two wolves inside us all. One is evil: it is anger, envy, greed, arrogance, jealousy, resentment, lies. The other is good: it is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy, truth. The wolf that wins? The one you feed.”

Cherokee proverb

“Teach the children so it will not be necessary to teach the adults.”

Abraham Lincoln

“Education is teaching our children to desire the right things.”

Aristotle

Bring your desires down to your present means. Increase them only when your increased means permit.

Aristotle

“What lies in our power to do, lies in our power not to do.”

Aristotle

Video demonstrating how discipline is the only path to artistic creativity.

-Ally

Few ideas have shaped modern relationships more than boundaries—particularly for women. We set them with coworkers, friends, parents, and even our children. Without boundaries, we feel unprotected. They define the physical, emotional, and mental space where one person ends and another begins, establishing what is—and isn’t—acceptable.

Over the last twenty years, the rise in boundary-setting has been a reaction to cultural shifts. The stigmas and mores of the past—many rooted in Christian morality—which used to govern behavior, are steadily dissolving. G.K. Chesterton described our modern eradication of “standards” with the famous analogy of a man discovering a fence in the middle of a field. He finds the fence annoying and tears it down without asking why it was built. Chesterton advises that the more proper response would be to discover why the fence was put there in the first place, and then decide if it is worthy of demolition.

When everything is accepted, no one is quite sure what behavior is unacceptable—but bad behavior still carries consequences. And since our lives are deeply connected, who often bears the heaviest burden? Women, caregivers—especially mothers.

Consider a few examples of this shifting culture. Arriving late to a dinner invitation was once considered impolite to the hostess; today, a quick text saying you were “held up” is often seen as sufficient, leaving the hostess scrambling to keep the food warm. Family loyalty was once regarded as a virtue, and the command to honor father and mother carried a certain weight. Now, we mothers live with the quiet fear that our children will only remember the days we were stressed and moody—and when they grow up, they will cut us off and make a social media post describing the trauma caused by their “emotionally immature” mother.

The Colder Side of Boundaries

So yes, Boundaries seems like a reasonable reaction to an unstable situation. However, I believe the almost obsessive insistence we see of “boundaries” has also allowed us women to begin justifying a kind of cold-heartedness.

A recent viral incident illustrates my point. Pop singer Chappell Roan has been outspoken about setting firm boundaries with fans and maintaining a private life. Being a celebrity in our modern culture of entitlement must be difficult in many ways, so her desire for privacy is understandable.

However, she received backlash for a recent interaction with a young girl. The girl, who happened to be the daughter of a well-known athlete, was a big fan and was staying at the same hotel as the singer. Because her family is also in the spotlight, the girl tried not to bother her—but she wanted to confirm it was really the star. She walked past the singer’s table while she was eating breakfast, looked briefly at her, and then walked away.

This led to a security guard being sent to harshly reprimand the girl for disrupting her privacy.

I do not know the full details of the situation and am not attempting to condemn anyone. However, because this singer is a well-known advocate of boundaries, the incident highlights what may be the colder side of such a philosophy. Chappell Roan would likely agree with Brené Brown, who wrote,

“Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves even when we risk disappointing others.”

Yet a mind too full of self-love, with preserving our own comfort and protecting our own rights, leaves us with less mental space to recognize the world of others.

What did this woman miss because she was so insistent on her boundaries? What meaningful connection might she have made with an admiring young fan?

The Strength Found in Letting-go

Years ago, driving down a busy freeway with four young children fighting in the back, my car sputtered, and I pulled to the side as I ran out of gas. Frazzled mother that I was, I had not noticed how low my fuel was. Of course, this had to happen on the onramp - with no shoulder. My husband was out of town and, to be honest, I was freaking out. My mind immediately scanned through my friends - who would save me? I instantly knew, Lindsay. Interestingly, Lindsay, to an outsider, would seem the least likely to be willing or able to help - she was pregnant with 3 young children, homeschooled, and her husband lived in another city. But she was also a woman without boundaries. She came with all her kids in tow, ran out onto that busy onramp, gave me a reassuring hug, grabbed my kids, double-buckled them, and took them home with her while I dealt with getting the car towed. She was my angel that day.

The most valuable connections in life often come because one person is willing to sacrifice comfort for another—demonstrating true love and empathy.

The Gospels offer a striking example of this principle. Christ and his followers were pushing through a rowdy crowd of people. In the chaos, He felt the purposeful touch of a woman. He stopped and connected with that suffering woman, healing her of a disease that had left her labeled “unclean” in the eyes of others.

Christ described the way he would recognize his true disciples:

“For I was hungry, and you gave me food: I was thirsty, and you gave me drink: I was a stranger, and you took me in; naked, and you clothed me: I was sick, and you visited me: I was in prison, and you came unto me. ..inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me.”

When we are open to inconvenience—to changed plans, extra work, or unexpected needs—we are also open to love. Boundaries protect us—but love transforms us.

If we sense someone is trying to take advantage of us or has bad intentions, then no, we do not have to allow that. But let us not assume that every request for help—or every child passing by our table—is an annoyance or a threat to be avoided.

Motherhood: The Destroyer of Boundaries

In our culture, motherhood is increasingly framed as a burden rather than a privilege. Perhaps this is because babies are notoriously ‘no respecter of boundaries’.

My first few months of motherhood were rough. I had an incredibly colicky newborn. He had severe acid reflux, which caused him pain. I lived thousands of miles from any family. My mother could only stay a few days before returning home.

I stayed up all night pacing our tiny apartment, trying to soothe him and keep him from waking the neighbors. Nursing was painful and awkward. He spit everything up. He would not gain weight. I had no idea what I was doing, so I sought advice from any passing stranger willing to give it.

But I loved that little boy with a love I did not know was possible. And I endured. I got through it.

Each baby after that felt easy by comparison.

And that baby is now a remarkable seventeen-year-old young man.

Often, our own boundaries are self-limiting. We do not need as many protections and comforts as we imagine; love provides us with tremendous strength.

In some ways, I think I needed my boundary-busting first baby. He helped me become a more open and resilient woman—capable of overcoming hardship

Women are often blessed with a deep capacity to nurture. That nature does expose us to heartache and the burdens of caregiving. But it also makes us the creators of homes—the comfort our families return to. In the darkest moments, the love of a mother shines brightest - millions of soldiers, prisoners, and refugees have sought the memory of their mother’s love to comfort them. The following letter, received after a young soldier’s death in World War I, shows the enduring power of a mother’s selfless love.

“Dear Mother… I write this as a farewell to a mother I always loved, and ask her to forgive me any wrong that I may have done her, as she has done all for me that a mother can do for a son… I kiss this paper and would that they were your lips and may God bless one of the best Mothers who has done her duty in making my life a paradise as it was she that kept me and cheered me through this life… Until we meet in the land of peace.”

— Pvt. Guy M. Sweigert, World War I soldier

Yet the modern perspective shines a more cynical light on the “caretaker” relationship. Henry Cloud, author of the massive bestseller Boundaries, wrote,

“Those people in our lives who can respect our boundaries will love our wills, our opinions, our separateness. Those who can’t respect our boundaries are telling us that they don’t love our nos. They only love our yeses, our compliance.”

Every time a mother is awakened in the middle of the night by a sick child, a cynic could describe her as “being taken advantage of.” But perhaps the relationship formed through that sacrifice is precisely what makes love deep and enduring.

I doubt this young soldier spent much time thinking about his mother’s “separateness” or boundaries while growing up, just as my teenage boys don’t. Yet he clearly did not love her merely for her compliance. He loved her with a respect and reverence that only a self-sacrificing relationship can produce.

St. Sarah Smith

Deep relationships are not built by protecting ourselves from one another, but by giving of ourselves.

In The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis describes the kind of woman I hope to become. The book tells the story of a man visiting hell and heaven and describing all he witnesses. When the narrator visits the outskirts of Heaven, he sees a woman being honored in a procession, Sarah Smith.

“She seems to be a person of particular importance,” the narrator says.

“Aye. She is one of the great ones…“You have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are two quite different things.”

“And who are all these young men and women on each side?”

“They are her sons and daughters.”

“She must have had a very large family, sir.”

“Every young man or boy that met her became her son—even if it was only the boy who brought meat to her back door. Every girl that met her was her daughter. Every beast and bird that came near her had its place in her love.”

When describing the influence of this ordinary woman, the narrator says:

“It is like when you throw a stone into a pool, and the concentric waves spread out further and further. Who knows where it will end?”

That image has stayed with me. I have tried to recreate the warmth and welcoming nature of that woman in my own home.

It is not easy, and I fail.

The amount of self-denial required to be a Sarah Smith, or my friend Lindsay, can feel overwhelming, yet it is an ideal I still strive for. We all have unique gifts and capacities to give, and I hope God can use mine.

Strangely, a few weeks after my rescue on the onramp, my friend Missy called me while I was at my son’s soccer practice - she had run out of gas and was stuck on the freeway! (I blame the tiny gas warning light on the Honda Odyssey for both incidents) I was so immensely grateful to know that as she scanned her friends, she saw me as someone who would help her.

Again, there is nothing wrong with proper boundaries, particularly necessary now in our socially chaotic world, but let’s not let the pendulum swing into coldness.

Some boundaries must be built. Others must be torn down. Wisdom lies in knowing which is which.

We should not judge other people’s boundaries. But we can examine our own hearts and ask if our insistence on them may be causing us to miss opportunities for service, connection, or growth.

I want my family and those I meet in the journey of life to remember my presence as warm and open. I want them to know that I was someone they could come to at the most inconvenient moment and still receive care. I often fall short, yet I still want God to know there is no boundary I would refuse to cross to do His will.

-Ally

G.K. Chesterton

The love of a mother for her child. The devotion of a man to his family. The dependence of a child on his parents. These truths are eternal. They are the foundation of meaning, joy, and purpose. The world may seek progress and change. They may see children as a burden and family responsibilities as impediments to freedom and pleasure. But the truth will prove true. A loving family can stand strong even amidst the storms inevitable to a confused world.

She came again when days were past,
The bit of clay was hard at last.
The form she gave it, still it bore,
And she could change that form no more.

She took a piece of living clay
And gently pressed it day by day,
And molded with her power and art
A young child’s soft and yielding heart.

She came again when years were gone;
It was a man she looked upon.
He still that early impress bore,
And she could fashion it no more.

-Author Unknown

The influence our mothers have had on the shape and quality of our lives cannot be overstated. As the great George Washington expressed for all of us, “All I am I owe to my mother.” How grateful I am to the molding and loving influence my mother has had on my life, and how I pray to use my own influence to help my children become the men and women God designed them to be.

-Ally

We need not be ashamed of our fear, much of it is beyond our control, but also not allow it to rule our better nature. We must recognize it for what it is when it inevitably descends on us. Our natural maternal instincts drive us to protect and encourage our precious children. We should. Our feminine spiritual nature desires unity and comfort, building a home of love and sacrifice - a most worthy endeavor. Fear can keep us from reaching these feminine potentials. Rather than encouraging our children to face an often disappointing world, we may let our fear of suffering stifle us – making our children “safe” rather than capable. Fear can twist our desire for comfort into a controlling quest for perfection. Fear, unchecked, infects our beautiful nature and distorts it. The quotes below can help us look at our fear and help us refuse Fear as our Master.

“There is no harm in being afraid. The only harm is in doing what Fear tells you. Fear is not your master! Laugh in his face and he will run away.”

George MacDonald, Lilith

“Gratitude looks to the Past and love to the Present; fear, avarice, lust, and ambition look ahead.”

C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

“Don’t be overwise; fling yourself straight into life, without deliberation; don’t be afraid – the flood will bear you to the bank and set you safe on your feet again.”

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

“Of all the liars in the world, sometimes the worst are our own fears.”

Rudyard Kipling

“To fear death is nothing other than to think oneself wise when one is not; for it is to think one knows what one does not know. No man knows whether death may not even turn out to be the greatest blessing for a human being; and yet people fear it as if they knew for certain that is is the greatest of evil.”

Socrates, Plato’s The Apology

“Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.”

Aristotle

“Let fear once get possession of the soul, and it does not readily yield its place to another sentiment.”

Leo Tolstoy, Sebastopol Sketches

“Fear is Faithlessness.”

George MacDonald

“The unhappy person is never present to themselves because they always live in the past or the future.”

Soren Kierkegaard, Either/Or

“I fear you will never arrive at an understanding of God so long as you cannot bring yourself to see the good that often comes as a result of pain.”

George MacDonald

“Don’t be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin!”

Henry David Thoreau

“Face the demands of life voluntarily. Respond to a challenge, instead of bracing for catastrophe.”

Jordan Peterson

“I do so dearly believe that no half-heartedness and no worldly fear must turn us aside from following the light unflinchingly.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter to Edith

“A man that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a short cut to meet it.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Children of Hurin

It is a sad truth that we women often kindly “thrust our benevolence” outward, yet don’t save enough for our own family, particularly our husbands. I was in a grocery store on Christmas Eve. As I navigated the aisles, one couple was doing the opposite route I was – I passed them on nearly every aisle. The wife kindly smiled at me as I passed her in the baking aisle, then she turned to her husband and berated him for picking the wrong flour off the shelf. The next meeting was in the dairy aisle. She spoke down to him like a child as she explained the sugar content of Yoplait. Five times I passed them, the wife laughed as she noticed our frequent passings. She didn’t seem to notice the malice with which she addressed her husband. He didn’t seem pleased with her method of communication, but didn’t say anything. Maybe because it was a public place, maybe because he had allowed his wife to disrespect him to the point of losing his own sense of his worth. But the scene was difficult to witness.

I went home and treated my husband like a King that night, for fear I might be anything like that woman. There is no one on earth we should treat better than our husbands. They may be far from perfect, but if we have within us this benevolence spoken of by one of Lewis’ demons – let’s not allow it to be deflected from the one whose relationship we value and depend on most. Let’s save the most benevolence for our husband and pray he saves his for us.

If all but myself were blind, I should want neither fine clothes, fine houses, nor fine furniture.”

Benjamin Franklin

When we truly examine our decisions, how many are made to impress others? How much of our effort is devoted to climbing a social hierarchy? If we are honest, far more than we would like to admit.

We often fail to prioritize what truly matters because we give enormous weight to other people’s opinions—most of whom are busy managing their own image. Yet we live as though we are constantly being evaluated, and as though that evaluation determines our worth.

This tension is not new. The Roman emperor and Stoic philosopher Marcus Aurelius observed,

“I have often wondered how it is that every man loves himself more than all the rest of men, but yet sets less value on his own opinions of himself than on the opinions of others.”

We claim independence of thought, yet quietly surrender our self-worth to the imagined verdict of the crowd.

Growing up, my mom called this the “performance lie” — the belief that if we achieve enough, perform well enough, or succeed visibly enough, we become more valuable to others and even to God. Some may view God less as a loving Heavenly Father seeking to help us, and more as an unmerciful and quibbling tyrant. Many of us accept this lie without realizing it, and it shapes how we move through the world. We begin to measure ourselves the way we assume others measure us.

I am profoundly grateful to my mother for clearly teaching me that my worth is not based on my “performance”. It is a lesson so many of my wonderful, perfectionist-minded friends and fellow mothers are still struggling to learn. It is a lesson I am desperately trying to teach my own children and one that runs contrary to much they see in our shallow and performative culture. If our best efforts to show others their eternal worth fail, we pray for God to reach his beloved child.

Children today feel an intense pressure to perform, to constantly “mog,” “glow up,” or live up to the nonchalant aura of a “sigma.” If they don’t make the basketball team, land the lead in the school play, or achieve the beauty of their filtered influencers, it can feel as if the whole world is watching their failure. Their worth seems tied to an invisible scoreboard—and if they don’t measure up, they are devastated.

In those moments, parents’ reactions matter enormously. Parents who themselves believe the performance lie struggle when their children fall short of visible success—and their children notice that disappointment. That unspoken pressure is passed down, layer upon layer. Living life this way, measuring our worth on performance, is not only agonizing and stressful but will also distract us from the joy and beauty of life. We are like the woman arranging her hair and striking poses for a series of photographs for strangers on the internet, barely glancing at the breathtaking expanse of the Grand Canyon behind her.

What is the point of making a basketball team? Is it to impress other kids and your dad to be proud of you? Or is it so you can learn to bond with your team, improve skills, and develop character traits like humility and resilience? If the point is the former, then you may be living the performance lie, and when things don’t work out, you will be shattered. But if you desire to improve as a person, to develop your character, you will certainly be disappointed not to make the team, but you also know that you can look elsewhere to learn lessons and to improve yourself.

I often remind my children not to be overly concerned with what others think; most people are not thinking about you nearly as much as you imagine. So while we should care enough about others’ opinions to accept wise criticism and to avoid offending others, ultimately, we answer to God, not man. We should not build our identity on public opinion, especially a public that is largely immoral.

Our culture is saturated with a desire for prestige, wealth, and performance. It takes intention to step outside that paradigm and recognize it for what it is – a lie, a distraction, and a stumbling block keeping us from the true purpose of life.

“To be right with God is the one thing.”

George MacDonald, New Name

Christ showed us clearly what a lie it was. When you examine the life of Jesus Christ, something striking emerges. His band of disciples did not include anyone who would be socially impressive or academically elite. His followers were fishermen, laborers, and ordinary men with little theological knowledge or learning. Even Saul, who possessed status and education, had to be radically reshaped into Paul before he was ready to serve. The pattern is clear: God does not build His kingdom on résumé virtues or social rank but on an open heart.

We should seek to teach our children that becoming a good person is much more important than being an important or celebrated person. In twenty years, no one will ask whether you were on the A team or the B team. No one will care who asked you to prom in high school. And even if they did care, your future wiser self wouldn’t, and God wouldn’t. But your spouse will care if you are kind. Your children will care if you are a good parent. And God will care whether you were humble enough to follow His counsel. In a world of blind men, there is much service to be done

As Franklin suggested, if we imagined a world of blind men and women, we would no longer be held back by image creation and instead focus on what truly matters. We could develop character, integrity, and obedience. In a world of blind men, the only things worth having are the things that cannot be seen.

So while we should not be consumed with the perceptions of others, we should care deeply about God’s. His vision sinks deeper. He does not measure our worth by performance, appearance, or wealth. We are of infinite worth to Him, independent of accomplishment.

“For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.” — Galatians

-Ally

Another post related to the “performance lie”. https://philosophyofmotherhood.wordpress.com/2019/04/02/a-son-beyond-expectation/

In our increasingly inhumane and immoral world, we hear endless demands that things must change, and we all hope they will. But how does real change actually occur? Scottish theologian George MacDonald offers what I find to be the only honest answer: I must change. I must stop doing what I know to be wrong and begin doing what I know to be right.

What if the world isn’t changing because I refuse to?

Change is difficult. It demands humility, self-examination, and the courage to follow one’s conscience wherever it leads. Recently, while trying to apply the words of George MacDonald, I prayed to see what I might need to change in myself. The answer came shockingly quickly. It was as though God had been waiting for me to ask where my fault lay.

Mercifully, He limited the answer to one. He knows my pace is slow. The thought was clear: I need to stop complaining. Lately, I have been negative about financial challenges we’ve faced. My attitude has not helped; instead, it has weighed on my family. It stings to recognize that I should have been different, but there is hope in knowing that I still can be.

A reduction in my complaining may seem an insignificant improvement in the world in light of the tremendous suffering experienced by humanity, but it is something I can do.

Let everyone sweep in front of his own door, and the whole world will be clean.”

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

In a previous post, Raising Rebels, we discussed the need to rebel against our culture as it spurns traditional morality. Does this desire to rebel against the world contradict the truth that we need to focus on our own wickedness before attempting to change the world? No, for our rebellion is a deeply personal call for discipline, an individual refusal to yield to the calls of pleasure-seeking and moral compromise. There will be no successful worldwide rebellion if the rebels are hypocrites. To bring about the world we desire, we must live that world in our own relationships and in our own choices.

“…Were it possible – an absurd supposition – that the world should thus be righted from the outside, it would yet be impossible for the man who had contributed to the work, remaining what he was, ever to enjoy the perfection of the result; himself not in tune with the organ he has tuned, he must imagine it still a distracted, jarring instrument.” (Hope of the Gospel)

The Power of One

We hear many calls to serve and give consideration to a particular group – whether it be a certain race, gender, nationality, or sexuality. These pleas for assistance may be well-meaning. However, any efforts to serve groups must be primarily concerned with helping the individuals that comprise that group.

Transformation occurs one person at a time.

“…The philanthropist who regards the wrong as in the (group), forgetting that the group is made up of conscious and wrong individuals, forgets also that wrong is always generated in and done by an individual; that the wrongness exists in the individual, and by him is passed over, as tendency, to the group; and that no evil can be cured in the human race, except by its being cured by its individuals.”

Thankfully, change happens at the same place love is given and received: in the individual.

“…There is no way of making three men right but by making right each one of the three; but a cure in one man who repents and turns, is a beginning of the cure of the whole human race.”

All quotes above: George MacDonald (The Hope of the Gospel)

Virtue Signaling

O’ What may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side!

William Shakespeare

The burden of responsibility that accompanies self-improvement is rejected by many. In exchange, some opt for virtue signalling and hypocrisy, or, as Jordan Peterson says, “an abdication of personal responsibility with the mask of social virtue.” Imagine a young woman marching against the plague of consumer capitalism in the street and driving home and browsing Amazon for a new iPad. She would find it difficult to live in the self-sufficient community she hopes to create. We cannot ask others to climb a mountain while relaxing at base camp.

“You don’t change the world by going and waving signs at people that you have defined as more evil than you. The probability that they are more evil than you is actually quite low because evil though they may be, you are in the same boat. If you have divided the world up conveniently so you can define the oppressor and oppressed and you are in the positive category, then the probability that you are part of the solution and not part of the problem is zero.”

Jordan Peterson

Contradictory Truths

This is the tension: we see the world collapsing around us, and we can’t just stand idly by; yet we also see that we have to transform ourselves before we can help. We all have gifts and passions given to us for the betterment of the world. We often feel a call to help others in a certain way. Wouldn’t it be a waste to sit on our gifts and passions until we reach unreachable perfection? How can we harmonize these two seemingly contradictory truths: we should use our gifts and love to help others, we must get “our own house in order before advising the world”?

When Christ was asked what are the most important commandments He said,

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself. ”

Matthew 22

The first and great commandment is intensely personal: love God. Christ tells us exactly how we love God, “if ye love me, keep my commandments.” This requires action, not words. Trying to live a moral life is like climbing a steep mountain. Our rebellion is leaving the valley, with so much misery, selfishness, and sin. As we climb, we reject the world's demands and priorities and live instead as our conscience directs. This is “setting our house in order.”

However, we are also given a second commandment, to love our neighbor. It does not say to change thy neighbor; rather, as Thomas Aquinas described, it is “to will the good of our neighbor”. We want good things for others, as we want them for ourselves. This love is often found as we journey up the mountain. We gain empathy when we fall, we gain faith when we succeed. We see the problems and struggles of others more clearly as we gain the elevation of personal progression.

Don’t climb mountains so that people can see you. Climb mountains so that you can see the world.

David McCullough Jr.

Charitable love is generally not directed at large societal groups. It is shown in the love and concern we share for a friend or a stranger. In this form of love, known as Agape, the highest form of love, the power of transformation is found.

As we strive upwards in our own quest for perfection, we can share our struggles and successes with those around us. We can share our gifts and knowledge with the hope that our struggle up the mountain is helpful to others.

When to Speak and When to Shut Up

But when are we exhibiting genuine love and concern for others, and when is it instead a presumptuous and judgmental attempt to change them? I have personally thought a lot about this. Who am I to write? What gives me the right? I am certainly not perfect, and many are wiser and more qualified than I am.

For years, my husband told me I should write about the ideas I discussed with him. I thought his idea smacked of self-promotion.

However, I continued to hear the call. I was particularly concerned as I saw many young women casting aside motherhood. I wanted to offer insight drawn from great thinkers and lived observation. Finally, after finishing Andrew Klavan’s The Great Good Thing, I decided to just do it. He had used his gift to spread truth to millions. I trusted that he was doing so for the right reasons. Perhaps I could as well.

Still, I remained double-minded. After many hours listening to Dr. Peterson’s lectures, his warnings about “unearned wisdom” echoed loudly. I worried I was stepping into the hypocritical zone.

So I decided to proceed with caution. I write with an awareness of my weaknesses and try to be honest about my limitations. I regularly check my motivations. Am I trying to impress? Am I here to share truth and hope, or to gain praise? Am I speaking genuinely?

The answers have not always been yes.

A few months ago, I set out to write about women’s feelings of inadequacy. I knew many women plagued by low self-worth, and the topic seemed important. I gathered strong material and finished the piece. When I read it aloud, something felt off. I realized I was not the person to write it. I lacked the empathy and lived experience the subject required. I scrapped the entire post and chose instead to seek out a guest writer who could speak from earned wisdom.

“For knowledge to be yours, you have to see how it applies to your own case and then have a story to tell about how that’s the case.”
— Jordan Peterson

If we share wisdom we have not lived, our words ring hollow. We all have insights to share, but we must resist the urge to posture as experts on everything.

Tiger Woods can write a book on golf, not on marriage.

This is not to say we cannot have opinions on things we have not experienced. But the most powerful art and instruction come from those who reveal truths discovered in their own climb up the mountain.

“Where the spirit does not work with the hand, there is no art.”

Leonardo Di Vinci

As we rebel against an inhumane culture, we must first commence a personal rebellion against our own immorality, our own tendency towards hypocrisy and “unearned moral superiority”. As we seek God’s will, we will increase in love for our fellow man. We will want to share our gifts and earned wisdom with others as we journey uphill together.

–Ally

Resources:

This piece is a follow-up to a previous post, Raising Rebels

On Agape: The Four Loves and Our Ascent to God https://catholicexchange.com/four-loves-ascent-god

C.S. Lewis on Agape

Christmas is a time to burn off the deadwood that keeps us from growing young. Christmas shows us how. It points us to joy and gratitude, to service and love. We enjoy the taste of good food, the sound of beautiful music, and the pleasure of laughter with family and friends. We see the world as a child – free of cynicism and regret. This is a time to become young again. And to glorify the day when the Eldest among us became a child.

Overwhelmed? Overstimulated? Worried about parties, decorating, or a gift list that keeps growing? Most of us know the feeling. Christmas often doesn’t feel like a celebration of Christ at all. What would Christ feel about modern Christmas?

We live in a world of technology, convenience, and excess—nothing like the humble world Christ entered 2,000 years ago. Applying His teachings to the 2025 season may seem difficult, yet His life gives us strong clues about what He would emphasize.

We are often advised to remember Christ more during the season, but perhaps attempting to be like Christ more can be even more powerful in turning Christmas from a burden to a joy.

Jesus Christ is the model for all Christian living. But that doesn’t mean our idea of Him is always accurate. C.S. Lewis wisely said, “I want God, not my idea of God.” Our idea of God can easily become shaped by culture, convenience, or personal preference. Often, we warp God into a Santa-like wish-fulfiller, not the Being portrayed in scripture. To see who the Son of God truly is, we must study His actions and His words.

And when we look closely at Christ’s life, one theme rises again and again: His repudiation of what George MacDonald called “the Dominion of Things.”

Every October, I open a Google Doc and begin listing gifts for my children. Every year, I vow to keep it short; every year, the list grows. Part habit, part fear of disappointing them, part enjoyment of giving. The pull of things is powerful.

Christ gave gifts too—but not “things” - food to the 5,000, a miraculous catch of fish, and wine at a wedding. His gifts always met a real need or furthered His mission.

Even the Wise Men’s gifts—gold, frankincense, myrrh—were likely practical: funding the family’s flight to Egypt or serving medicinal purposes. It’s difficult to imagine that Mary had that gold made into a necklace for herself.

We are commanded to be generous to the poor. God loves a cheerful giver. But was that “giver” ever meant to be the supplier of gaming consoles, stuffed stockings, and piles of candy?

Christ teaches the importance of helping people have their needs met through labor or charity. He cautions us about satisfying endless wants.

Across the Gospels, Christ’s teachings return repeatedly to two spiritual dangers: the exaltation of self (pride) and the exaltation of possessions (idolatry or materialism).” Over and over, He tells us not to serve mammon—the spirit of wealth, accumulation, and material excess. Yet Christmastime has become PrimeTime for mammon.

Christ’s relationship with money is almost humorous. I have to turn around anytime I forget my wallet; Christ never carried one. To pay the temple donation, He had to ask Peter to retrieve a coin from the mouth of a fish. When asked about taxes, He borrowed a coin from someone just to see what was on it. Money was so unimportant, and seemingly repugnant, to Him that the one apostle He chose to handle it was also His least trustworthy—Judas. And let’s not forget the table-flipping incident at the temple. Christ seems to view money and its accumulation with a mix of apathy and disdain.

Instead, Jesus encouraged us to let go. He pointed to the lilies and birds as examples of trust and dependence on God. His calling of the first missionaries is instructive:

“Go your ways: behold, I send you forth as lambs among wolves. Carry neither purse, nor scrip, nor shoes.”

This is strong stuff. I’m certainly not planning to send my son on a mission without shoes. But perhaps the strength of Jesus’ words could convince me that he doesn’t need a new pair of Steph Curry shoes every year.

Christ warned repeatedly that material things can corrupt our hearts. The more we have, the greater the risk.

“Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon the earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal. But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

Could our desire for more treasure—wrapped in gold paper and guarded by a tree—be turning our hearts away from heavenly treasure?

Christ said, “A man’s life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesseth.”

We live in a time of abundance—almost anything we want can be delivered to our door. It’s easy to get sucked into consumer culture, convincing ourselves that we need every box that arrives from Amazon. We swallow the lie that our worth and joy are found in the accumulation of things.

Ask a child what they received last Christmas—many cannot remember. Even a brand-new car feels ordinary after a week. The problem runs deeper than fleeting excitement. Each new possession carries weight—physical, mental, spiritual: more arguments over screen time, more clutter and broken toys, more storage challenges, more maintenance, batteries, and lost pieces. John Ruskin said, “Every increased possession loads us with a new weariness.”

As I dug into Christ’s teachings, I found myself thinking, “If I actually lived the way Christ advises - won’t I be a killjoy?” But of course, as we attempt to apply Christ’s teachings in our lives, joy is just what we can expect to enliven. Perhaps I should trust God enough to risk a little disappointment.

I don’t pretend to know all God’s ways, but it seems Christ understood what He continually taught: When we let go, God can do astonishing things. “For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.” (1 Corinthians 3:19)

Humility is central to Christianity, yet modern technology and consumerism pull us away from the time, work, and groundedness that cultivate humble hearts. As technology does more for us, we develop a strange dependence—and even a kind of uselessness. When menial tasks vanish, we tend to fill the space not with contemplation, creativity, or charity but with consumption. Our spirits were not built for endless TV, video games, and dopamine-driven distractions. The result is shorter attention spans, a craving for novelty, and dissatisfaction with what we already have. Suddenly, we wish we’d gotten something else for Christmas.

And the only “solution” our culture offers is more things—heavy things—whose production burdens the earth.

“For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that.”

Modern “progress” often seems to mean “more people consume more things”. Yet as we’ve seen in dystopian stories—from Wall-E to The Matrix, Terminator, and Brave New World - a recurring theme is that humans become enslaved by the very creations meant to serve them. The creators of AI and other technologies often fear the consequences of their inventions most, yet innovation presses on relentlessly. Our wildest fears seem to be coming true all at once. We see what is happening, but we feel powerless to stop it, telling ourselves we “can’t stop progress.”

In this pursuit, the primacy of relationships, nature, and love is increasingly crowded out by efficiency, consumption, and economic growth. As Paul Kingsnorth observes, “Everything that lives is being crowded out by everything we have made.”

“What is made” truly is crowding our homes and environment. Every day, it seems a new RV and storage unit complex is erected in our town to house all that “is made” when we can’t find room for it.

“What is made” produces 2.1 billion tonnes of waste every year. 8 million metric tons of plastic waste pollute our oceans annually. Christ needed nothing beyond what was essential; yet we fill the world with things we once wanted.

Our Savior spent much of His time in nature, knowing it was where He could most clearly commune with His Heavenly Father. He created this world and expects us to safeguard it. Many of the environmental scars we witness today could be alleviated if we simply bought and produced less. Yet the siren calls of Black Friday, wish lists, and Santa drown out the quiet lessons of creation. As Aldous Huxley wrote in Brave New World, “A love of nature keeps no factories busy.”

Christ saw all of this—the dangers of overconsumption, the distractions of wealth, the lure of “things.” His example stands in contrast to modern life. He lived simply, wandered Galilee, and taught the timeless truth: “Ye cannot serve God and mammon.”

We are caretakers of God’s creation. Environmental stewardship is not a political stance; it is a spiritual responsibility. The earth was not made to accommodate the endless accumulation of unnatural goods our materialism requires.

So what should we, tired and overwhelmed consumers of Christmas, actually do? Burn our presents? Tear down the decorations? More likely, the answer lies in a shift of perspective.

My attempt to explore the true character of Christ is not meant to shame those of us who love Christmas, gifts, and all the trappings of the season. Some of the most profound positive changes in my life have not come from instant rebellion against habits or traditions, but from a shift in outlook. Maybe that upgraded vacuum starts to seem unnecessary. The gaming tablet looks more like a distraction than a delight. When we are humble enough to question ourselves, we create space for God’s inspiration. As we seek to implement that inspiration, our family may notice a subtle but profound shift—a growing simplicity and a lighter emphasis on possessions. And simple joys will be left: family gathered, meals shared, the poor remembered, children laughing, the quiet labor of caring for one another, and grateful hearts remembering the birth of our Savior.

Examining the birth, life, and teachings of Christ can itself be the most festive pursuit we undertake. The more we look, the more we discover something revolutionary: the Creator of all, the King of Kings, the most powerful being ever to walk the earth, lived simply and rejected excess. This Christmas, as we celebrate His life, we can begin to re-evaluate what is truly necessary and beneficial. In The Lord of the Rings, we learn, “It is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life.” And there is no better way to celebrate Christmas than Simply.

“Beauty matters. It is not just a subjective thing but a universal need of human beings. If we ignore this need we find ourselves in a spiritual desert.”

Roger Scruton

To truly invigorate my soul, I must stop and partake in the beauty that surrounds me. This may be as simple as appreciating how adorable my toddler is, or really tasting that piece of watermelon. The wonderful thing about appreciating beauty, especially for an overworked mother, is that it usually requires stillness rather than activity.

“Certainly work is not always required of a man. There is such a thing as a sacred idleness, the cultivation of which is now fearfully neglected.”

George MacDonald

We must make time to seek out and appreciate that which makes life worth living- real and living things. Beautiful things. We can reconnect with the soul of life and forget for a brief moment the ugly things that consume us. As we listen to inspiring music, gaze at a sunset, and appreciate artwork, we are able to disconnect from the stress and worry of a materialistic and competitive world and feel alive.

Resources:

Beauty: A Very Short Introduction https://www.amazon.com/dp/0199229759/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_i_-Y-qFbA0QE1JY

About a week later, I was at Target with my daughter when she asked if she could get some temporary hair dye. Normally, I would have said no, but I was in a rare, spontaneous mood. “Why not?” I said. “We never do things like that.” She has brown hair, so we picked out a reddish shade.

For context, I’ve never dyed my hair, rarely wear makeup, and don’t even have my ears pierced. You could say I’m fairly traditional. So, I had no idea what I was doing. The result turned out more purple than red and it doesn’t seem to be fading. At first, I laughed, but if I’m honest, I regret it. I miss my daughter’s natural hair.

I think all of us have a desire to try new things—to test boundaries and add variety to life. That’s a good impulse; it keeps life fun. I don’t regret wanting to share a playful moment with my daughter. What I do regret is how it started—with my compliment to that young woman’s bright orange hair.

We live in such an artificial world. We spend our days staring at screens under fluorescent lights, in air-conditioned buildings, eating artificially flavored snacks, and wearing synthetic fabrics. The natural is becoming foreign to us—and that isn’t good. By complimenting the one obviously unnatural thing about that girl, I was overlooking what was more truly her. She also had beautiful eyes and a warm, friendly demeanor—things nature gave her, or that she had cultivated herself. Instead, I praised what came from a bottle of dye. Maybe my daughter heard my praise of something so clearly unnatural and wanted that same kind of approval.

Perhaps living in this artificial world—with nearly infinite choices and freedoms—has made us increasingly blind to the value of the natural aspects of ourselves that we didn’t choose but that ground us and make us truly unique.

Writer Paul Kingsnorth describes this cultural drift in his book Against the Machine. He writes about the “abolition of man and woman,” a technological liberation from our natural selves:

“When we listen to the logic of [many modern thinkers], we hear one fundamental message: that the most authentic human self is that which is most detached from biology and society. That the further we move from our natural state, the more liberated – and thus fulfilled – we will be.”

Like the fashion-obsessed citizens of the Capitol in The Hunger Games, we increasingly see young women turning away from what is natural, reshaping their appearance to match something they saw on Instagram—or to fit an ever-changing idea of self.

When we dye our hair bright orange, maybe we are just having fun; that’s fine. But perhaps we believe we’re expressing who we truly are—that our natural color wasn’t “us.” But isn’t that a troubling thought? If our natural, biological, God-given selves are not “us,” then what is? Something we can buy in a L’Oréal box? Something a plastic surgeon can construct? I’ve changed a lot over the course of my life—adjusted opinions, moved homes, dropped old hobbies and picked up new ones—but I’m glad I’ve at least been true to my face.

From now on, I want to be intentional about complimenting what’s real—what’s genuine. Often, we notice something surprising or different and comment on it—not because it’s better, but simply because bright orange hair stands out. When my teenage daughter straightens her naturally curly hair, she’s flooded with compliments about how beautiful she looks. Yet I’ve always thought her curls suit her best. It’s human nature to notice change, so we have to intentionally remember to celebrate the beautiful and natural over the flashy and artificial.

There’s no harm in making the most of what God gave you, and we shouldn’t judge other women’s choices. Still, in this increasingly artificial world, if we’re not careful, our daughters may forget that God made them—and that He doesn’t make mistakes. His gifts are meant to be valued—be they curly hair or big ankles. Increasingly, our culture seems to prize the “artificial but self-chosen”; let’s instead glory in the “genuine and God-bestowed.”

As Max Lucado put it, “You weren’t an accident. You weren’t mass-produced. You aren’t an assembly-line product. You were deliberately planned, specifically gifted, and lovingly positioned on the earth by the Master Craftsman.”

L’Oréal may say, “Because you’re worth it.” And they’re right—we are worth it. We’re worth loving, exactly as we are, as we were made.

-Ally

― GK Chesterton, Orthodoxy

Chesterton was right — laughter is a leap. When the weight of stress, or worry, or pride weighs upon me, I find it much more difficult to laugh. My little kids’ silly antics don’t bring the same joy, my husband’s dad jokes are just annoying, and even my favorite sitcom falls flat. It is so easy as a busy mom to develop a default state of annoyance with the world and our family. When life gets burdensome, we actually have to work at lightening it up. For me, that usually means I need to slow down, unclench my jaw, and hand something over to God.

Chesterton said, “seriousness is vice,” and motherhood is teaching me what he meant. I want to be a mom that my children remember as fun-loving, as laughing at their jokes, and as even being silly. If we can leave them with that impression, we will have given them a joyous childhood.

Don’t wait for life to calm down to lighten up; that’s never gonna happen. Let’s work at it right now. Tonight, no matter how hard your day has been, playfully tease your teenage son, flirt with your husband, and bounce your little toddler on your knee. Do as Chesterton advises - bravely take that leap towards laughter.

-Ally