For This House
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
June 15, 2026 | 3 min read
Ally Veldhuisen
We’re in the sandbox using dump trucks to haul sand from one pile to the other, carefully fine-tuning our construction site with no clear goal in mind because the project manager is three years old. Meanwhile, my mind is somewhere else entirely—thinking about the calls I need to make, the side hustle I’m neglecting, what we’re going to have for dinner, and all of the little things I’m probably forgetting.
Physically, I’m present. My hands scoop sand and relocate it on command. Mentally, I’m fragmented… zoning out instead of absorbing the story my son is enthusiastically rattling off while I sort through mental clutter and try to formulate action steps to get myself “back on track” (whatever that even means).
Something has to give.
I can’t just quit all the things, but lately, I want to. Everything feels loud. Heavy. Like too much. And it shouldn’t. Deep down, I know I’m missing the very thing I say matters most: these fleeting summer moments with my one- and three-year-old that I’ll never get back.
I don’t need a vacation.
I need quiet.
I need to close some mental tabs.
So this summer, we’re doing something about it.
This summer, we’re stepping away from blogging and social media completely. Not because we hate it — we genuinely love what we’ve started here and the stories and feedback from our readers — but because the constant, low-grade hum of it all seeps into every moment, even when our screens are technically put away. The urge to keep producing doesn’t clock out just because we do.
We want stillness. We want presence. We want to move through our days without the quiet pressure to capture them, package them, or make them useful. We want a slow season where beautiful things are free to just exist without the threat of becoming content, income, or momentum.
We’re calling it a summer sabbatical, and we mean that word intentionally. Sabbath is a rhythm God built into creation from the very beginning. Rest isn’t a reward for finishing everything on your list (we surely haven’t done that). Rest is a command and a gift. We were never meant to produce without ceasing. Stepping back in this way is being faithful to the pace we were actually designed for.
We also want to gently ask: is there something you might need to step back from this summer, too?
Not forever, just for a season. We live in a culture that celebrates doing more, reaching more, growing more. Those aren’t bad things, but there’s a quiet courage in intentionally shrinking your realm of influence or commitment in order to show up more fully where you already are. In your home. With your kids. In your neighborhood, your friendships, your church pew…
Maybe for you it’s not social media (or maybe it is). Maybe it’s a committee you over-committed to, a group chat that drains you, a hobby that quietly became an obligation. Whatever it is: you have permission to set it down. That doesn’t mean it has to be permanent; just for a time.
The best part? You’re not setting it down out of defeat, but out of wisdom. Out of the belief that the small, everyday moments of your actual life are worth your whole, undivided attention.
That’s what we’re giving more space to this summer. Not a highlight reel, just the real thing.
We’ll be back in the fall with full hearts and probably a lot of stories from the sandbox. Until then, thank you for reading, for sharing this little corner of the internet with us, and for cheering us on. It has meant more than you know!
Heavenly Father,
Thank You for the gift of rest. Help us release what crowds out Your peace, and give us eyes to see the sacred in ordinary moments — sandbox afternoons, quiet mornings, slow days. Teach us that stillness is not laziness but obedience to the rhythm You designed. Fill this season with presence over productivity, and remind us that the small, fleeting moments with those we love are never wasted.
Amen.
Ally is the primary founder of For This House. She just finished renovating a cute, old house in small town Washington where she lives with her husband and young son. Ally is a teacher by trade, but also enjoys library cookbooks and watching Downton Abbey. Learn more about Ally.
Ally is the primary founder of For This House. She just finished renovating a cute, old house in small town Washington where she lives with her husband and young son. Ally is a teacher by trade, but also enjoys library cookbooks and watching Downton Abbey. Learn more about Ally.