There are some days when the house feels a little quieter than usual.
Not necessarily because anything around you has changed.
Sometimes it’s just you who feels different.
Today is one of those days for me.
I’ve been thinking about my old job.
And I miss it.
I miss the people.
I miss the routine.
I miss having somewhere to go.
I miss knowing what I was supposed to be doing.
I miss being needed.
Honestly?
I miss all of it.
And somewhere underneath all that missing is a harder feeling to admit:
I feel useless.
That’s not an easy sentence to say out loud.
Because we live in a world that constantly teaches us to measure our value by what we accomplish.
What did you get done today?
What did you contribute?
What did you produce?
How productive were you?
And when the answers aren’t very impressive, it’s easy for that little voice in our head to whisper:
See? You’re not doing enough.
You’re not needed.
You’re not useful anymore.
But maybe we’ve gotten the whole thing backward.
Maybe our value was never supposed to come from how useful we are.
Maybe being useful is something we do.
It isn’t who we are.
Today, I cried.
And one of my cats noticed.
Adolf came over and climbed right onto me.
No questions.
No expectations.
No measuring whether I had accomplished enough to deserve his attention.
He just came and stayed.
And as I sat there with him, I thought about how strange it is that we can believe we have to do something to be worthy of love when the creatures who love us most don’t seem to require that at all.
Adolf didn’t need me to finish a project.
He didn’t need me to make a song.
He didn’t need me to crochet something.
He didn’t need me to check something off a list.
He just wanted to be with me.
Maybe God looks at us a little more like that than we realize.
Maybe He isn’t standing over us with a clipboard asking how productive we’ve been.
Maybe He’s sitting beside us.
Especially on the days when we’re crying.
Especially on the days when we don’t feel useful.
Especially on the days when all we can manage is to breathe and make it through.
I think sometimes we grieve old versions of ourselves.
The version who had a schedule.
The version who had a job.
The version who knew exactly where she belonged.
The version who could point to the end of the day and say, “I did something today.”
And it’s okay to miss her. You don’t have to pretend you don’t.
But missing that version of yourself doesn’t mean the version sitting here today has no purpose.
It means you’re still figuring out what this chapter looks like. And maybe that’s the uncomfortable part.
We want purpose to arrive with a name tag.
A job title.
A paycheck.
A schedule.
A clearly defined role.
But sometimes purpose looks much quieter than that.
Sometimes it’s creating something that makes another person smile. Sometimes it’s singing a song you needed to hear yourself. Sometimes it’s making something with your hands. Sometimes it’s showing up for someone. Sometimes it’s taking care of the people—or animals—you love.
And sometimes…
sometimes purpose looks like resting and letting someone else take care of you.
That’s a hard one for those of us who are used to being the ones who do.
So if you’re sitting in this Living Room with me today feeling a little useless… I want you to know something.
You are not useless. You are a person going through a transition. You are a person who misses something. You are a person whose heart is grieving a chapter that mattered. And you are still worthy of love in the middle of it.
You don’t have to prove your value today.
You don’t have to make yourself productive enough to deserve tomorrow.
You don’t have to have the next chapter figured out.
Maybe today, you just need to sit down.
Take a breath.
Let the tears come.
And maybe let a furry little creature climb into your lap and remind you that sometimes being loved is enough.
Because you are not what you accomplish.
You are not your job.
You are not your productivity.
You are you.
And you are still deeply, wonderfully worth loving.
So stay awhile.
The Living Room is always open. 💛
A little question for you…
Have you ever had a season where you didn’t feel useful anymore?
What helped you remember that your worth was bigger than what you could accomplish?
Come sit with me. Tell me about it. This is a conversation, after all.
Some of the sweetest moments with God don’t happen on the days we expect. They happen on ordinary Wednesdays. The middle-of-the-week kind of days. The ones that aren’t exciting enough to make the calendar but are still full of little opportunities to notice His presence. Maybe today wasn’t extraordinary. Maybe it was filled with work, appointments, errands, aching muscles, or a never-ending to-do list.
And yet… Somewhere in the middle of it all, God was there.
In the quiet sunrise. In the breeze through the trees. In the smile of a stranger. In the comfort of coming home. In the deep breath you didn’t realize you needed.
His presence isn’t reserved for life’s biggest moments.
Sometimes it’s found in the smallest ones. Perhaps that’s why we’re invited to be still. Not because God is absent when life is busy… But because slowing down helps us notice He’s been with us all along.
Before today slips quietly into tomorrow, take just a moment to thank Him for one ordinary blessing.
You might be surprised by how extraordinary an ordinary Wednesday can become.
“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
Psalm 118:24
May your heart find joy in the little moments today.
Not collapsing into bed after pushing yourself too hard.
But real, soul-deep rest.
The kind of rest where your shoulders begin to relax, your breathing slows, and your heart remembers that it doesn’t have to carry everything alone.
For many of us living with chronic illness, rest can feel complicated.
We often battle guilt when we slow down. We wonder if we’ve done enough, accomplished enough, or pushed hard enough before allowing ourselves to pause.
But God never asked us to earn our rest.
In fact, throughout Scripture, He invites us to it.
Not because we’ve finished every task.
Not because we’ve proven our worth.
Simply because we belong to Him.
Rest isn’t giving up.
Rest isn’t laziness.
Rest isn’t weakness.
Rest is trusting that God is still working, even while we are still.
So today…
Take a deep breath.
Drink a glass of water.
Step outside for a few moments if you’re able.
Wrap yourself in your favorite blanket.
Put down the to-do list for a little while.
Let yourself simply be.
Your worth has never been measured by your productivity.
And neither has God’s love for you.
“Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28
May today be filled with moments of peace, gentle grace, and the quiet reminder that you don’t have to carry everything alone.
Sometimes I wonder what life would look like if people celebrated the things that don’t make it onto social media.
The shower you almost didn’t have the energy to take.
The doctor’s appointment you were dreading but kept anyway.
The meal you managed to cook.
The walk to the mailbox.
The load of laundry that finally made it from the washer to the dryer.
The day you remembered to drink enough water.
The moment you chose kindness toward yourself instead of guilt.
Living with chronic illness has a funny way of changing your definition of success.
Before fibromyalgia, I measured good days by how much I accomplished. Now…
Sometimes a good day simply means I made it through. And you know what? That’s enough. Not because we’ve lowered the bar, but because our bodies are carrying things that most people never have to think about.
Pain.
Fatigue.
Brain fog.
Sleep that never feels quite restful.
The constant balancing act of wondering… “If I do this today… what will it cost me tomorrow?”
Those aren’t little things.
They’re invisible things, and invisible battles still require incredible strength.
I’ve learned that joy isn’t always found in the big milestones. Sometimes it’s tucked inside the smallest victories: The fresh sheets on the bed; a hot shower; a quiet morning with my Bible; finishing one row of crochet; watching a sunflower bloom; laughing at something one of my cats did.
Those moments may seem ordinary to someone else, but too me…
They’re reminders that beauty still finds its way into hard days.
Maybe today your victory wasn’t crossing everything off your to-do list. Maybe your victory was simply getting out of bed. Maybe it was asking for help. Maybe it was resting without apologizing. Maybe it was taking one deep breath and deciding to keep going.
Don’t let the world convince you that only the big victories count.
Heaven sees every quiet act of perseverance. Every step. Every prayer. Every choice to keep hoping.
Those are victories worth celebrating too.
Thank you for spending a little time with me here in the Living Room. I’m so glad you stopped by.
Until next time…
The porch light will be on.
💜 Josie Lynn
🌻 Take With You 🌻
Don’t overlook today’s small victory. If it took courage, faith, or perseverance, it was never small.
Sometimes my body tells me “no” before I’ve even had the chance to say “good morning.”
The alarm goes off. I already have a plan for the day. Ideas are racing through my mind. My heart is ready.
But my body… My body has a different conversation in mind. My hands ache before I’ve picked up a crochet hook. My shoulders feel heavy before I’ve carried anything. My legs are tired before I’ve taken the first step. And somewhere in the middle of all that, the frustration quietly settles in.
“I haven’t even done anything yet.”
If you’ve ever thought those words, I want you to know something.
You’re not lazy. You’re not weak. You’re not imagining it.
Living with fibromyalgia means our bodies sometimes spend energy on things most people never have to think about.
Pain is exhausting. Inflammation is exhausting. Poor sleep is exhausting. Even on the days when it looks like we’ve done “nothing,” our bodies have been working incredibly hard.
I’m still learning not to measure my worth by my productivity, but that’s easier said than done. I still catch myself apologizing for needing rest. I wrestle with feeling like I should be able to do more. But lately, I’ve been asking myself a different question.
Instead of… “How much did I accomplish today?”
I’ve started asking… “Was I faithful with the strength God gave me today?”
Those are two very different questions.
Some days, faithfulness looks like finishing a project. Other days, faithfulness looks like taking a nap. Sometimes it looks like making dinner. Sometimes it looks like ordering takeout because your body simply can’t. Sometimes faithfulness looks like saying, “Not today.”
And that’s okay.
God has never asked us to carry tomorrow’s strength today. He only gives us today’s.
So if your body is telling you “no” today… Maybe it’s not the end of your story. Maybe it’s simply an invitation to receive grace instead of striving. Tomorrow will have its own mercies. Today has enough of its own.
Thank you for spending a little time with me here in the Living Room.
I’m so glad you stopped by.
Until next time…
The porch light will be on.
💜 Josie
🌻 Take With You
Your worth isn’t measured by what you accomplished today.
Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is honor the body God entrusted to you with grace instead of guilt.
Have you ever noticed that the most beautiful things in life usually grow quietly?
A flower doesn’t bloom overnight.
A tree doesn’t become strong in a single season.
And healing—whether it’s physical, emotional, or spiritual—rarely happens all at once.
We live in a world that celebrates instant results, but God often works differently.
Sometimes growth looks like taking one small step.
Choosing hope when it’s hard.
Finding peace in the middle of uncertainty.
Or simply making it through today with His help.
If you’re feeling discouraged because you can’t see much progress, don’t give up.
The roots are growing long before the flowers appear.
In many ways, our faith grows the same way. God is often doing His deepest work beneath the surface, where no one else can see. The quiet seasons aren’t wasted—they’re where He strengthens our roots, teaches us to trust Him, and prepares us for what is still to come.
So if today feels ordinary… or even difficult… remember this:
Growth doesn’t have to be loud to be real.
Keep trusting Him.
He’s still working, even when the growth is too quiet to see.
“And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9
Thank you for spending a little time in the Hydrangea today.
As I’m winding down this evening after having run errands for my mama, I have this need to create something…
But my hands are saying, “Not today!”
My mind is full of ideas and things I want to write down and post about, but my fingers are complaining with every key stroke.
So for now, I just wanted to stop in and give you all some encouragement.
Not because I feel encouraged, but helping others is what I was placed on this earth to do.
So here is my conversation for this evening, as we sit here in my little living room on the internet:
Don’t let the hard days stop you from being a light to the world.
We all have a purpose, even if we suffer from chronic pain. There is power in knowing this.
Have faith that the God of all creation has a plan for your life, even if you can’t see it yet. Don’t let the enemy try to sneak in and make you feel as if you aren’t enough just because you suffer.
The Bible tells us in James 1:12
“Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love Him.”
And also, in Romans 8:18
“I consider that or present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.“
For those of us living with chronic illness, neither of these verses says that our suffering isn’t real, they simply acknowledge that suffering exists while pointing beyond it.
So remember this my friends, even when the days are hard, we can look to Jesus for hope.
He sees you.
He knows you.
He loves you.
And you are enough just as you are.
I pray this encourages you during one of those “Not Today!” days.
