Some changes we create ourselves. Other changes may be imposed upon us by other people’s choices. And some changes happen to us because, well, that’s just how life works.

This month, my focus for my yearly word Shift has been on accepting the last two kinds of changes—the unchosen shifts.

I’ve tried to consciously notice how I respond to unchosen changes—ignore them? fight them? judge them?—and see what happens if I simply accept them before deciding what to do next.

Each month I link my Share 4 Somethings post with Jenn.

I also share here my One Second Everyday video from the previous month.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

1. Something I Love

• REDISCOVERING WHAT I LEFT BEHIND

When I was younger, I did a lot of cross-stitching. Somewhere along the way I stopped. It’s been years since I’ve done any kind of needlework.

So I didn’t know how much I would still enjoy it until I attended my daughter Jenna’s embroidery workshop at a local flower farm near us.

With a piece of lavender in front of us picked straight from the farm, Jenna did a great job leading us to create our own lavender needlework piece. I was surprised that I especially liked creating alongside other people because typically I only do creative projects on my own. I’m hoping to attend her September workshop, too.

Doing embroidery again showed me that not every shift has to be resisted. Some changes can simply remind us that we can return to something we once laid down, in a new season and in a new way.

my imperfect but finished embroidery

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

2. Something Sustaining Me

• UNEXPECTED TIME WITH FRIENDS

Sometimes I make intricate plans weeks ahead of time. Other times, things just happen. That’s how this month worked out with friends.

With no more than a day or a week’s planning, I ended up getting one-on-one meals with six different friends this month. And I loved it!

I appreciated the conversations with each friend, hearing their unique goings-on in their lives and learning to see the world a little differently through their eyes.

I’m grateful the month unfolded this way without my foreknowledge (my introverted self might have nixed such a crazy plan as much too much!).

Sometimes making room for short-notice gatherings allows us to appreciate the gifts from spontaneity we might otherwise have avoided.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

3. Something Carrying Me Forward

• NEW PLACES FOR A CHANGE OF PERSPECTIVE

My husband Jeff and I took a short trip to St. Augustine, Florida, last week, and discovered it wears the “oldest” title in many areas in the continental United States: oldest continuously inhabited European-established settlement, oldest masonry fort, oldest public street, oldest known planned Black settlement, and much more.

It was a lot of new knowledge about old things.

Castillo de San Marcos, the oldest masonry fort in the continental United States, built 1672-1695

Dr. King preached several times at St. Paul AME Church in St. Augustine, FL, in the 1960s, originally founded in 1873

We have a different kind of trip planned for this month: a return to fill up our spirits at the annual Wild Goose Festival.

I keep finding that when I put myself in different places and among different people, my world expands in ways I couldn’t plan for or intentionally choose.

A change of scenery often sparks a shift in perspective—and sometimes that’s exactly what I need, even when I don’t realize I need it.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

4. Something I’m Making Space For

• CHANGES ALREADY UNDERWAY

This one isn’t as fun.

I’m trying to learn more about data centers.

Along with the rest of the world, data centers are becoming more of an issue in my state of Alabama. I want to understand them better so I can make educated decisions when I have opportunities to vote or speak up.

We’ll be electing a new governor on November 3. One candidate has announced he’s eager to multiply our data centers while the other candidate suggests we slow down and decide on guard rails first.

A few weeks ago I attended a local presentation at my library on the environmental impact of data centers. I learned that data centers are already operating in my area, with additions being considered. I also learned what questions to ask to better compare the different types of centers.

The world continues to shift in this direction, whether we’re ready or not. (I’m not.)

Accepting change doesn’t mean we have to like the change. But it’s helpful to face what’s happening so when we do have choices to make, we can choose wisely.

What are you making room for that you didn’t choose? What was a highlight of your August? Share in the comments.

I’m linking at these blog parties

One reason I love choosing a word to guide my year is because I get to spend twelve months thinking about what it means to me.

But the same word doesn’t mean the same thing to every person.

So this month, get a fresh perspective on your word by having a few conversations about it.

You don’t need a One Word to try this. Pick a value, question, or idea you’ve been thinking about and ask three people what it means to them.

We often learn something new about things that matter to us when we hear what they mean to others.

Start Three Conversations

Over the next week or so, choose three people—from friends, family, coworkers, neighbors—and start a casual conversation with each one about your word or topic.

Here are some questions you might ask to get the conversation going about your word or something you’ve been thinking about—a value you’re living by, a question you’re considering, a quality you admire.

• When you hear about this, what comes to mind?
• What do you think is the opposite of it?
• How often do you encounter this in everyday life?
• What’s one way you think I could practice it?

Just go wherever the conversation takes you.

What Will You Discover?

You may be surprised to discover that someone else thinks differently about your word in a way you haven’t even considered.

That’s part of the joy of conversation. We don’t have to figure out everything on our own. We’re designed for community, so let’s take advantage of it.

You may discover something new about the person you’re talking with as well.

Shifting Thoughts

Here are a few things I learned when I had three conversations about my One Word Shift. Not surprisingly, none of these people noticed Shift as often as in their daily lives as I do since I’m listening for it. 

hubby gave me some “Shift” stickers

Define Shift

I love the range of meanings I heard. All three people had different definitions. Each person approached it from a different perspective, which is exactly the kind of input I wanted. 

• Gear shift on a car
• A change in direction
• Off-kilter

Opposite of Shift

Again, I got three different answers, giving me even more to think about. 

• Automatic
• Stagnation
• Stable

Practicing Shift

Suggesting ways to practice Shift is harder, but I did get these suggestions.

• Buy a vehicle that’s not automatic (this one is from my husband, lol)
• Change the way you believe or react to something
• Do something out of the ordinary

Fittingly, after hearing someone else’s perspectives, I’m shifting the way I think about Shift.

Sometimes a shift can be dramatic, like a complete change in direction. Or a shift may be more subtle, like changing from “automatic” to “manual” mode in my thinking. Or a shift can be action-filled, breaking me free from a stagnant season to try something out of the ordinary.

Share With Us

If you have conversations too about your word or topic, I’d love to hear about them. Share your experiences in a comment below, in a blog post for our linkup (open now until September 9), or in our One Word Facebook group.

Sometimes our words grow more meaningful when we stop considering them alone and start talking about them with others.

Our September monthly linkup opens Saturday, September 26.

Question for you:

Who is someone you would like to have a conversation with about your word or a topic that’s on your mind? Share in the comments. 

If you’d like to receive our monthly One Word emails and ideas for 2026, join here.

• • Get more One Word ideas here

Link Up About Your One Word

It’s 3:00 on a Monday afternoon. I’m already complaining about how sweaty I am.

My friend Kay and I begin unloading the boxed meals from the back of my car into the shopping cart we use to deliver meals to our friends in the apartment complex.

We don’t cook or box the meals ourselves. Another group of volunteers does that hard work.

We count ourselves lucky to get the best job—handing meals to residents who we now count as friends.

That’s when our long-time friend Mary rolls up in her wheelchair from the nearby street.

We haven’t seen Mary in a while. And actually, I never know when we see her if it will be the last time. She used to live in an apartment here. We’d chat at her door and talk as friends.

Then one day, she was gone.

Her neighbors told us she was evicted after falling behind on her rent. We were all sad about it.

But every now and then, Mary shows up outside the apartment complex around the time we pull up, and we give her a meal.

This is one of those times. I hand her a meal. It’s an especially good one today. The cooks made lasagna—a real treat.

We’re happy to see Mary. She looks healthy enough.

She’s not, though.

One Working Hand

She says she was just released yesterday from the “crazy house.” I ask questions. She explains that someone turned her in for acting strangely, so she spent the night in the psychiatric ward of our local hospital.

She insisted to the staff that she’s not crazy, though. She told them to watch her and they’d see for themselves. After one night, they did release her, and she returned home to Tent City, where she lives.

Tent City is one of the more structured homeless camps in town, also now known as The Slab. After a fire erupted in Tent City in 2024, causing severe damage and making it uninhabitable for the people living there, the city stepped up. Last year they poured 84 12-by-12-foot concrete slabs for 84 10-by-10-foot tents, and set up a few community guidelines for those who stay there.

Mary is one of the people who got a place.

I ask if it’s better than before. She says yes. Her new tent is bigger than her old one. She can turn her wheelchair around in it.

When we first met Mary, she had one functioning leg and one partial leg. She had lost the leg from the knee down after a car accident a few years earlier.

Then last year, she kept having trouble with her remaining foot. So the doctors surgically removed it.

Now she has no feet at all.

And since we last saw her a few months ago, something else has happened.

Mary tells us she has had a stroke.

Her entire left side has stopped working for her. She demonstrates by picking up her limp left arm with her right hand.

Of her four limbs, she now has the use of only one. . .
one hand that still works.

But My Problem

Mary tells us she has a boyfriend. That he’s really good to her. That he helps her move into her wheelchair each morning because she can’t do it on her own.

But this morning, someone turned him in for sleeping beside her in her tent. She says a police officer pulled him out and took him to jail. She doesn’t know when he’ll be released.

I dig another meal out of the car and give it to her. She’s been through a lot.

I check my car for any leftover forks I have from takeout Panda Express. I find an unopened package and hand it to her.

She takes it with her right hand. But she can’t get it open. She hands it back to me, and I unwrap it for her.

She begins eating as we continue talking, balancing the meal on her lap and eating with her one working hand. She spills a little food on her shirt.

I’m torn. My first instinct is to help her eat. My second instinct is: just let her be. 

I know she’s used to doing what she can with one hand. She doesn’t seem bothered that she has food on her shirt.

The discomfort is my problem, not hers. 

She takes another bite of lasagna.

I watch her eat.

Will We See Her Again?

Sweat continues to pour off me. We still need to deliver the rest of the meals, so we awkwardly say goodbye to Mary. We tell her we hope we’ll see her again soon.

And we mean it.

But will we see her again?

I’m aware of the statistics. The average life expectancy for people experiencing homelessness in America hovers around 48 to 50 years.

Mary is 49.

She’s already lost so much. Her home. Her mobility. Three of her four limbs. And today, she’s also lost (at least temporarily) the one person who helps her in and out of her wheelchair.

Yet here she is. Eating lasagna on a hot Monday afternoon. Talking with friends. Making the best of the life—and the body—that she’s in.

With one good hand, she feeds herself.
With one good hand, she waves goodbye.
With one good hand, she rolls away with the freedom she still treasures.

I hope that her one remaining hand remains good to her.

I’ve stopped complaining about the heat.

Share your thoughts in the comments.

Read more true stories:

• He Knows Who the Survivors Will Be
  The world of the homeless camp feels brutally real. Sometimes I’m not sure whose world is the strangest one: theirs or ours.
• When to Say Thank You
  She has so little to give. But when someone wants to repay you, accept it. Grace flows both directions.
• This Is Not Fair
  The homeless boys know the forecast. Cold and stormy. I’ll have to turn up my electric blanket tonight. Life is not fair.

Do You Use AI?

I wonder if AI underestimated how quickly humans would figure out if something is written solely by AI.

I understand why people want to use AI to help them write. It’s so easy to use. Just throw a topic into ChatGPT and out comes a beautiful product in a second or two. And AI phrases things so clearly. No thinking required.

I use AI myself. It has become a useful editor to me. I get it to untangle some of my more confusing sentences. I sometimes ask it to reorganize my paragraphs to make better sense. I often let it do boring tasks like write SEO descriptions or choose social media titles.

Even while writing this (sort of) anti-AI rant, I want to use AI. Badly. I’m so tempted to put this very writing into AI for an automatic upgrade.

But this time I’m not. I want these thoughts and words to be strictly my thoughts and words. Not AI’s words. For better or for worse.

Because every day I notice how quickly the internet is swapping human voices for computer voices. And it’s making me sad.

Just like I don’t want to talk to a bot when I need help for a unique problem I’m having, I also don’t want to read AI’s words when I’m longing to hear a unique voice.

AI is flattening out unique voices.

We’re Rightfully Suspicious

I’ve been slowly reading a book about AI by Robert Wright called The God Test: Artificial Intelligence and Our Coming Cosmic Reckoning. His premise is that we’re currently faced with a technological tipping point: will we as a species rise to the moral challenge of using AI for good and not bad? Will we get “the God we deserve,” on either end of the spectrum?

TBD. Check back in a few years.

In the meantime, we’re already becoming suspicious of images we see online. And rightfully so. Is that cat really ringing someone’s doorbell pretending to deliver a pizza? Did that politician really become a superhero last night? Some things really are too crazy to be true, even for these times.

So I’ve picked up a new hobby myself. It’s not one I particularly enjoy. But it’s one that I can’t seem to put down.

I’m becoming an unofficial AI writing detective.

Do You Want to Know If It’s AI?

I’ve been suspecting some writers’ work for awhile now. Not the loyal blog writers that I follow. Their voices seem authentically their own. I’m more grateful than ever for them.

But I am noticing an uncomfortable blandness of writing in several Substack newsletters I follow. Especially among newsletters that pop up quickly and suddenly have tons of content every week.

Obviously it’s not just me noticing either.

One study I read says that AI-generated content now accounts for 41% of long-form content on LinkedIn, 13% on Reddit, and 10% on Substack. And on average, the AI-generated posts on LinkedIn receive 45% less engagement than human-written posts.

We can just tell.

Within the past few weeks, Substack has encouraged writers to develop their own “How I make this” statement for their newsletters. Not to discourage or shame people from using AI, but to advocate for transparency about it if you do. I for one would appreciate if writings would come with a label if they’re created 100% by AI.

And people are having opinions about it. Big ones.

Substack also recently suggested using Pangram as an AI detector. It’s not foolproof, of course. (And isn’t it ironic to use AI to detect AI?)

Of everything I’ve tested so far, it’s told me what I suspected, that the piece was likely written completely by AI.

My favorite tells of AI are overuse of the words “quietly” and “matters,” as in this article that landed in my inbox yesterday:

“The 3 Substack Updates That Quietly Turn Your Publication Into a Business Tool

…The reason that matters now comes down to who’s arriving on the platform.”

Yep, it’s AI. (Or so AI tells me, anyway.)

I’ve even put my own work in Pangram as a test. So far it says my writing is 100% human . . . even though I use em dashes—I refuse to let AI steal them from me.

Of course I’m not surprised it shows I’m human since I did write it myself. But still, I appreciate the verification. Even if it’s from AI. Whew.

Is It All Bad?

Some people think writers should not use AI at all. Others say it’s fine because people are busy or they are genuinely bad writers, so why not let AI write for them?

To be fair, AI writing isn’t necessarily bad. It is usually quite organized, grammatically correct, and informative, things that I appreciate in good writing. I’ve received lots of help and insights from AI-generated articles.

In my own writing, I appreciate AI’s advice when I ask it questions like, What doesn’t make sense here? How can I make this simpler? What points have I missed?

And if I’m looking for solid information, like 3 tips to unclog a bathtub drain, I don’t care if the data comes from AI or a human. Just give me the help, as long as it’s accurate.

However, if I’m looking to hear what actually worked for a fellow human being—and I would appreciate a good laugh along the way when they tell a funny story of what happened when they tried to unclog their own drain—I don’t want that to come from AI.

I want it to come from you.

What AI Can Never Give Me

AI can give me information, but it can’t give me a person. Maybe this is what it boils down to: Do we prefer knowing content or knowing a person?

I do love some good content, don’t get me wrong.

But it will never replace loving a good person.

I want to hear you and your stories. In your human words. From your own lived experiences. In your individual tones and rhythms and expressions.

So what you get here today is 100% from a human. Could AI have improved it? Yes, definitely. It would have been cleaner and clearer.

But this time I didn’t give AI the opportunity to make it better. Instead, you’re getting a version with my errors and blurry syntax and perhaps a slightly confusing structure.

It’s not perfect.

But it is personal.

I’d love to hear your beautifully human thoughts in the comments.

Read More:

• Do You Say Thank You to AI? The Bots Are Listening
  Are we trusting AI too much? Stay aware of how computers are shaping us.
• What CAPTCHA Got Wrong About My Humanity
  Instead of identifying fragile objects, CAPTCHA reminded me of my grandson, risk, and what it truly means to be human.
• That “Friend” Is Not Who You Think They Are
  As AI becomes more helpful and polite, it’s easy to confuse it with friendship.
• When to Ignore GPS (and Listen to Yourself Instead)
  Here’s how one road trip reminded me that the best navigation system is sometimes your own intuition.

It Started With “Publish”

Eighteen years ago today, August 8, 2008, I clicked “publish” on my very first blog post.

Although I’d known for years that I loved to write—actually needed to write—as a way of clarifying thoughts in my head, I had no idea how much I would also love blogging.

And even more surprising, I didn’t know how much I would love the blogging community.

You all have been such a vibrant, intelligent, curious, and especially kind group of people all over the world. I thank you for the sweet messages you’ve left in my little corner of the internet over these past 18 years. And for welcoming me to your own sites to learn about your worlds, too.

It’s been an amazing journey.

And a lot has shifted in 18 years.

Today I look back at four snapshots on my anniversary date (or close to it) on the blog:

• 10 years ago
• 5 years ago
• 2 years ago
• last year

What I find are four unique moments in time. Four versions of myself.

Yet one ongoing story.

Trusting That We’ll Get Through

10 Years Ago—August 2016

This has obviously been a common theme for me for years: How can I know that things will work out?

Well, we can’t know how things will work out, that’s for sure.

But what I was learning ten years ago—and continue to learn now—is that whatever happens, as long as we have humans around us who care about other humans, things will work out, one way or another.

We can get through it together.

“When one person approaches another person not just despite their differences, but because of their differences, we’re going to be okay.”

Ten years later, I still believe this. But my understanding of what “things working out” actually means has shifted some. It doesn’t mean that things will turn out the way we plan or hope for.

Maybe it just means that whatever happens, we can keep going. And that’s enough.

Why I Know It Will Work Out

~  ~  ~

Finding New Life After Loss

5 Years Ago—August 2021

Five years ago, we’d already been living with Covid for more than a year, experiencing sickness and death all around us. It was a tiring time.

In my own life, I was on the cusp of a deep personal loss. While the “death” hadn’t yet fully happened when I wrote this post (it would be a few more months), I suppose I was already preparing myself.

It’s been a healthy reminder now as I look again at these “5 Ways to Deal With Your Thousand Little Deaths.”

“Look for signs of new life in each individual death.
Life and love are stronger than death. May they live on forever.”

I needed those words then. I need them still now.

I continue to shift in how I view and process loss. It’s difficult, however you experience it. Loss can’t be avoided, but there are ways to carry loss more gently. And with more compassion for ourselves as we make room for new life to emerge.

5 Ways to Deal With Your Thousand Little Deaths

~  ~  ~

Sometimes Your Words Say More Than You Write

2 Years Ago—August 2024

On my 16th blogging anniversary, I listed reasons that many of us continue to blog.

One of my own reasons was that “throwing something on my blog every few days” can sometimes produce profound things even when I have nothing profound to say.

“Whatever it is you expect to give by blogging, I hope you give it.
But I also hope you receive so much more in return.”

I certainly have received much more than I’ve given.

My blogging topics may have shifted over the years, but my basic reason for blogging hasn’t: I still need to put words to what I’m experiencing and to process through it with other people.

We all continue to change.

So the conversations continue, too.

Why Do You Blog? You Might Be Surprised {My 16th Blogging Anniversary}

~  ~  ~

Letting the Past Keep Teaching Us

1 Year Ago—August 2025

Last year, I had been rereading my late mother’s journals—and being greatly touched by them.

One question I asked myself then—and still do now—is: What can I still learn from the past?

Reading more about my mother’s life, I learned more about her.

But I learned more about me, too.

“I also find me on these pages. Because of who she was, I am who I am. Life ripples on, one generation through another.”

While the past may be fixed in time, our memories are fluid. As we reflect back and remember, we can reframe our perspectives to more accurately reflect what we know now.

Before You Box Up the Past, Ask This One Question First

~  ~  ~

Still Here: One Ongoing Story

Reading through some of my older posts, I cringe at things I wrote back then. Just as I will likely cringe 10 years from now if I read some of this year’s posts.

But maybe that’s okay?

Maybe seeing the shifts we make from year to year, and from decade to decade, reminds us that we’re never standing still.

We continue to move and grow as life changes around us.

The older I get, the more I’m aware of the impermanence of life, especially this year as I focus on Shift, my One Word for 2026.

And even when things change drastically, we don’t have to start over completely from scratch. We may look at old stories differently. And grow more comfortably into new stories that we couldn’t have imagined before.

So thank you to those who may be reading my blog for the first time today, and to those who may have actually been here for years and years.

Several of you have become dear friends, on and off the blog. For that, I am very grateful, more than you know.

Here’s to more time together in the future.
May we stay curious.
And stay open to the next shifts as we continue becoming more fully ourselves.

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”
— Joan Didion

I had a good reading month. I almost read as many fiction books as nonfiction, which is an unusual balance for me! Several library holds became available near the same time, so that’s when I read them.

Here are 5 nonfiction and 3 fiction books I recommend this month.

[See previously recommended books here]

NONFICTION

1. Daily Rituals
How Artists Work
by Mason Currey

I’ve heard about this fascinating book for years. I’m glad I finally read it. It tells about the daily routines of 161 writers, artists, composers, etc. It was interesting to see how many of them preferred working in the morning hours, then going for long walks in the afternoon.

“Inspiration is for amateurs,” Chuck Close says. “The rest of us just show up and get to work.”

2. Why Won’t You Apologize?
Healing Big Betrayals and Everyday Hurts
by Harriet Lerner

I enjoy Harriet Lerner’s books because they make good sense and they’re easy to comprehend. In this one, she explains what makes a good apology and what doesn’t, both in the giving and receiving. She has lots of practical takeaways, including this:

“If your intention is to offer a genuine apology, it’s the hurt party’s anger and pain that matters. Save yours for a different conversation.”

3. I Belong to Me
A Survivor’s Guide to Recovery and Hope after Religious Trauma
by Tia Levings

This is Levings’ second book after escaping her fundamentalist upbringing and abusive marriage. It’s part memoir and part guide for anyone seeking to heal after religious trauma. I personally liked her first book better, A Well-Trained Wife: My Escape from Christian Patriarchy, just because it was more of her story, but this second book is valuable, too.

“At its core, deconstruction is simply the process of questioning beliefs, identifying their roots and outcomes, and determining if you agree with them. It’s asking, ‘Why?’”

4. Influence
The Psychology of Persuasion
by Robert B. Cialdini

I’m getting close—this is the 20th of the 21 books recommended by Daniel Pink in June 2025 that I wanted to read. I had already read 9 of them prior to last year, and have since finished another 9, abandoned 2, which leaves just 1 more to go (Mindset). They’ve each been so interesting in their own ways. This one by Cialdini is a classic about why people are persuaded to say yes to advertising, sales, politics, etc., giving us a heads-up about how we’re being influenced.

“We like people who are like us, and we are more willing to say yes to their requests, often in an unthinking manner. Another such factor is praise.”

5. In Love with the World
A Monk’s Journey Through the Bardos of Living and Dying
by Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche

This is about a strange experience I will never have. It’s a memoir by a privileged Tibetan Buddhist master who secretly snuck out of his monastery in India for four years to wander unknown. It’s interesting to read how he handled himself after a life of pampering, especially when he became deathly ill in the first few weeks on his own.

“I had never once bought a ticket for anything, and had never had more weight in my backpack than a bottle of water, perhaps sunglasses, and a hat.”

FICTION

6. Theo of Golden
by Allen Levi

My library hold finally became available, and as predicted, I did love this book. It’s about an older gentleman who moves into a small Georgia town and gets to know its residents in a unique way. I understand now what all the hype has been about. A lovely story.

“Asher was not used to talking so freely about matters so personal. He would remark later that the old man listened in a way that made one dangerously willing to talk.”

7. The Correspondent
by Virginia Evans

This novel also lived up to the expectations I’d heard about it. This one is a story told through a series of letters that an elderly woman writes and receives in the last few years of her life. Evans did an amazing job using this unique method for a tender novel about relationships, regrets, and joys.

“Isn’t it something wonderful to think that a story of one’s life is preserved in some way, that this very letter may one day mean something, even if it is a very small thing, to someone?”

8. Fahrenheit 451
by Ray Bradbury

The banned book club I’m in chose this classic novel for our August selection. We had such an interesting discussion about it last Sunday. The book is set in a future where books are banned and firemen start fires with books instead of putting out fires. In the story, one of the firemen gets curious about why books are so dangerous. One thing leads to another in his quest for knowledge. I read the book years ago, and it seems more relevant than ever.

“There must be something in books, things we can’t imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don’t stay for nothing.”

WHAT I’M READING NOW

• The Art of Resilience
  100 Paths to Wisdom and Strength in an Uncertain World
  by Carol Orsborn
• The God Test
  Artificial Intelligence and Our Coming Cosmic Reckoning
  by Robert Wright
• Anxiety Rx
  by Russell Kennedy
• How We Learn to Be Brave
  Decisive Moments in Life and Faith
  by Mariann Edgar Budde
• How to Defend Books and Why
  Book Bans and How We Fight Them
  by Danny Caine
• The Inner Work of Age
  Shifting from Role to Soul
  by Connie Zweig

Have you read any of these books? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

I’m sharing at some of these linkups

Here are brief summaries and links to posts on the blog, Lisa notes, from July 2026.

• Four Unexpected Ways July Expanded My World—Share 4 Somethings July 2026 (7/29)
  July’s Share 4 Somethings: word games, empathy, family memories, and books that unexpectedly expanded my world in meaningful ways.
• Stop Thinking About Your One Word—Start Experiencing It {One Word 2026 July Linkup} (7/26)
  Explore your One Word through touch, taste, and sound with this simple sensory challenge designed to deepen your One Word journey.
• Leave the Frame Empty a Little While Longer (7/22)
  Sometimes growth means leaving old identities behind. Here’s what I’m learning about an empty frame making space for new possibilities in my One Word journey.
• Why My Friend Never Says “Calm Down” (7/13)
  When someone is overwhelmed, “calm down” rarely helps. Here’s what one friend’s steady presence taught me about listening and love.
• 7 Books I Recommend from Joy to Hope to Justice (7/6)
  Looking for your next great read? Here are seven books I recommend this month, exploring joy, hope, justice, empathy, time, and what it means to be fully human.

See previous months’ archives here

July was filled with ordinary moments but ones still worth remembering for how they grew my world a little bigger. Below are four that have stayed with me.

I’m linking with Jenn and also sharing my previous month’s One Second Everyday video.

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1. Something I Love

• FINDING MY WORD IN THE WILD

Every night I ask my husband Jeff, “Are you ready for words?” That’s our cue to play the five New York Times word games that we tackle every night: Wordle, Spelling Bee, Connections, Strands, and Crossword Puzzles (Mini and Midi).

I absolutely love that he will do this with me. I am admittedly a word nerd, and he’s not. But he’s a kind man and goes along with it. (He’s also smart, and I need his help!)

Twice lately, Connections has used my One Word—Shift—in the puzzle. In this last puzzle, though, I had no idea what one of the related answers meant: Doppler Shift. I had to look it up.

A doppler shift is the change in frequency as a source and observer move closer together or farther apart. For example, an ambulance siren sounds high-pitched coming toward you, but sounds lower-pitched after it passes you. That’s a doppler shift. (But don’t ask me to explain it.)

One more small thing learned. And in a fun way.

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2. Something Sustaining Me

• SEEING THROUGH SOMEONE ELSE’S EYES

Every three months, my daughter Jenna and I attend our local Domestic Violence Coalition as representatives of our local Moms Demand Action group. I always learn new things there—usually something that makes me very sad about what people can do to each other and also something hopeful about the beautiful attempts made by other people to help those being treated horribly.

This month, two presenters began the meeting by speaking only through sign language for a couple minutes.

As they continued on, I noticed how uncomfortable I began feeling. Were they aware that many of us couldn’t understand them? Was the whole session going to be this way?

Then an interpreter stepped in.

The exercise was intentional. For just a few moments, we all got to experience a tiny glimpse of what deaf people regularly face.

Then they told us of the additional challenges a deaf survivor of domestic violence may face when trying to communicate with police about it. I’m ashamed to say I’d never even thought of that.

They went on to share some wonderful services available in these heartbreaking situations.

The real solution, of course, would be to stop domestic violence altogether. But until then, I’m grateful for people who work in ways I’d never thought of to give survivors the support they need.

I walked out of that meeting with a little more understanding—not only because I learned new facts, but also from briefly experiencing life from another person’s perspective.

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3. Something Carrying Me Forward

• PRESERVING OUR STORIES

Forgive me for belaboring my struggle for years with my ongoing photos project. The good news is I reached another milestone this month in organizing my digital photos. I’ve now printed another year’s worth—2020—for my physical albums.

I love digital photos, but I love physical albums more, ones that I can flip through with my family. It’s important to me to make sure the stories we’ve already lived together don’t get lost on an outdated thumb drive somewhere or stay buried in the cloud on a defunct account after I’m dead.

But the bad news? It took me an entire year to finish the 2020 photos. I completed my 2019 album back in July 2025. At this pace, I’ll forever be six years behind.

So I’ve made a plan going forward. If I dedicate a little more time to this project each week instead of working on it only now and then, I just might finish both 2021 and 2022 by the end of this year, leaving me only three years behind.

Possible? Yes.
Probable? I’m not sure . . .

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4. Something I’m Making Space For

• A NEW CONVERSATION

It’s almost time for the annual Wild Goose Festival that Jeff and I have been attending since 2023. The past few months the organizers have begun announcing topics, speakers, musical artists, and other interesting items on the schedule.

This week they announced they’ll also host book club conversations during the weekend. From among the four book selections, I’m choosing to read How We Learn to Be Brave: Decisive Moments in Life and Faith by Mariann Edgar Budde.

Budde is the Episcopal bishop in Washington, D.C., who spoke at the 2025 inaugural prayer service, asking the president “to have mercy on the people in our country who are scared now.”

I’m looking forward to reading the book and getting to discuss it with others in a month.

A good book plus a good conversation is one of my favorite ways to expand my world.

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As I was living it, I didn’t connect the dots with how my world was growing a a little larger this month through words, through empathy, through memories, and through preparing for new conversations still to come.

Nothing major. Just subtle little shifts that hopefully add up over time.

What was a highlight of your July? Share in the comments.

I’m linking at these blog parties

Every summer we do a One Word Sensory Challenge. It’s a way to experience our words instead of just thinking about them.

This month, I invite you to explore your One Word through three of your senses. Choose one challenge or try all three!

1. Touch It

If your word had a texture, what would it feel like?
Would it be smooth like satin or rough like tree bark?
Soft, prickly, heavy, warm, cool, or airy?

Try this:

• Find an object that captures the feeling of your word.
• Create something with clay, Play-Doh, fabric, or natural materials.
• Notice how different textures help you connect with your word.

For my own One Word this year, Shift, I feel it as slippery. Also warm because it’s in motion. And light and airy because it’s always on the move.  

2. Taste It

If your word had a flavor, what would it be?
Sweet like honey? Bitter like dark chocolate? Salty, spicy, tart, or refreshing?

Try this:

• As you eat today, notice which flavors remind you of your word.
• Choose one food or drink that represents your word and savor it slowly.
• Draw a picture of that food or write a few sentences about why it fits your word.

For Shift, I imagine sour balls (they start out as one thing, then explode into something else the longer you suck on them) and Charms blow pops (the outside is hard, then cracks open and inside is chewy bubble gum).

3. Hear It

What does your word sound like?
Maybe you hear it in birdsong, running water, a favorite song, or even in silence.

Try this:

• Listen for sounds that remind you of your word.
• Add songs to a playlist inspired by your word.
• Say your word aloud several times, noticing how it sounds and how it makes you feel.

For Shift, I hear it as an appliance, like my A/C turning off and on, or the refrigerator cycling throughout the day. Also, animal sounds, like bird songs on my daily walk or dogs barking in the neighborhood.

You might even give yourself bonus points by imagining what your word smells like!

Sometimes our One Word becomes clearer when we stop trying to figure it out and simply experience it.

Share Your One Word Update

Share your reflections in the comments below or link up your own One Word post. The linkup will remain open until midnight, Sunday, August 9, 2026.

You’re also welcome to share your photos and discoveries in our One Word Facebook Group throughout the month.

I’m looking forward to seeing what you discover.

Looking ahead: Our August One Word linkup opens Wednesday, August 26.

Question for you:

Which of these three challenges—touching, tasting, or hearing your One Word—works the best for you, and why? Share in the comments.

If you’d like to receive our monthly One Word emails and ideas for 2026, join here.

• • Get more One Word ideas here

Link Up About Your One Word

On July 1, I pulled the little frame out of my One Word jar.

I rested it against the outside of the jar. It’s a simple gesture—this monthly change of symbols—but an intentional one.

The July focus for my One Word, Shift, is Reframe—specifically, shifting identities that no longer fit.

Because what we frame is what we preserve.

What We Choose to Frame

The following week, I (finally!) got my turn with the popular novel Theo of Golden from my library. When I came across this passage, I had to pause.

“How is it,” Theo wondered, “that a piece of paper—a letter, a photo, a ticket stub, a sketch, a painting—is suddenly transformed by placing it in four bits of wood beneath a pane of glass? What does it mean that we place permanent boundaries around transient moments? What does it say of humankind that we take such trouble to freeze specific memories, that we devote such energy to capturing and preserving the ‘minute particulars’ of our lives?”

Yes, Theo. I also am wondering.

When we love something so much that we put it behind glass and surround it with a frame, we’re immortalizing it. We’re saying, This matters to me.

For a long while—maybe for decades—this may hold true.

But sometimes? That immortalizing might keep us from noticing what we’ve been outgrowing. And what new things want to come to light.

I’ve been asking myself these questions this month.

• What have I framed about myself that no longer fits?
• Which interests have faded away?
• What stories do I tell myself that are no longer true?

Loosening the Back of the Frame

I started a list: Things I No Longer Need to Be.

At the very top is a role I’ve desperately wanted to keep. But it’s one I can no longer fully inhabit, for reasons beyond my control.

I’ve resisted that reality for a long time. Part of me still does. I don’t want to let it go. Maybe one day the opportunity will return, and I can wear the identity of that role once more. So for now, I don’t throw away the frame.

But I do make a shift.

I loosen up the little tabs on the back of the metaphorical frame. I toy with reframing this piece of my identity a bit differently. Place it on a higher shelf. At least for a little while longer.

I leave space for the story that is still unfolding.

Leaving the Frame Empty

Then I made a second list: New Things to Try—Without Defining Myself by Them.

I jotted down a handful of possibilities. Some small. Some large. But with no pressure. No permanent tying of my identity with them. Just curiosity.

I’ve seen how the world shifts. And how it shifts me.

So I won’t rush to place these new possibilities behind glass either.

Maybe someday.
Maybe never.

For now, I simply hold the literal empty frame in my hands and imagine all the photographs it has displayed over the years.

Today it holds none.

Not because there are no pictures to place inside it, but because there are still so many possibilities.

Perhaps that’s what reframing really is—honoring the past, while leaving enough space for the next picture to emerge.

Is there an identity or label you wear that could use a reframe, too? Share in the comments.