Personal Development

Can I tell you about a notebook?

I’ve been writing a novel this fall, and the woman at the center of it keeps a secret notebook in her nightstand drawer. Every night for thirty-three years, after her husband falls asleep, she writes about the life she didn’t get. The art school she turned down. The city apartment with tall windows. The version of herself who went somewhere and became someone.

And the whole time she’s writing about that other life, the real one is happening right on the other side of the bedroom door. A husband who loves her quietly. Kids who need her. A town that knows her name. She almost misses all of it.

I’ll be honest. I didn’t have to invent that woman. I just had to remember some of my own seasons.

We all have an “other life”

Maybe yours isn’t in a notebook. Maybe it lives in your head while you’re folding laundry or sitting in the car line. The job you almost took. The person you didn’t marry, or the one you did. The money you’d have if you’d made different choices. The body you had at twenty-five. The dream you set down because somebody needed you more.

Here’s the tricky thing about that other life: it’s always perfect. It never has bills or bad days or grief. It never gets the flu. It’s a highlight reel with no bloopers, and next to it, your real life is always going to look small.

But it isn’t real. And the more time we spend visiting it, the less of us shows up for the life God actually placed in our hands.

Contentment is learned, not felt

Paul wrote, “I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content” (Philippians 4:11). I love that he said learned. Not “I woke up content.” Not “I’m just naturally a grateful person.” He learned it, the way you learn anything: slowly, with practice, and probably with a few failures along the way.

That takes so much pressure off. If contentment were a feeling, you’d have to wait around for it to show up. But if it’s something you learn, then you can start today, right in the middle of whatever you’re feeling.

In my book, the husband says it this way while standing out by his beehives: contentment isn’t a feeling, it’s a thing you decide every day, with your hands. I think he’s right.

The lines have fallen in pleasant places

David wrote, “The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage” (Psalm 16:6). He was talking about boundary lines, the edges of the land God gave him. His portion. His lot.

Your boundary lines might not be where you’d have drawn them. Mine sure aren’t. But inside those lines, there is goodness. Real goodness. Sometimes we just have to stop staring over the fence long enough to see it.

Four ways to come home to your real life today

Notice where your mind wanders. Pay attention to the “what if” daydreams that pull you away. You don’t have to scold yourself. Just notice them and gently come back: “That’s not my life. This is. What’s here right now?”

Thank Him for one ordinary thing. Not the big stuff. The hot coffee. The dog asleep on your feet. The grandbaby’s sticky hands. The husband who always cuts his waffle the same way. Ordinary is where most of the miracles hide.

Look at the people in front of you. Really look. The ones you’ve seen so many times you stop seeing them. Ask one of them a question today and listen to the whole answer.

Hand Him the dream you set down. Some dreams aren’t gone; they’re just waiting for a different season. Others need to be released so your hands are free for what He’s giving now. Either way, give it to Him instead of carrying it around like a stone in your shoe. “Be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee” (Hebrews 13:5).

This isn’t about settling

I want to be clear, because I know how this can sound. Choosing contentment doesn’t mean you stop growing or stop hoping or pretend that what you lost didn’t matter. It’s okay to grieve the road you didn’t take. God can hold that grief.

But don’t let the grief for one life rob you of the joy in this one. We can spend our time focusing on the life we’ll never have, or spend our time enjoying the life we do have. Only one of those lives has your people in it. Only one of them is real.

Close the notebook for a minute. Look up. Somebody on the other side of the door is glad you’re here.

With so much love,
Momma J 🤍

If you want a quiet place to practice being present with God in your real, ordinary days, Still, Small Voice walks you through learning to hear Him in the stillness. And if you’re ready for a daily rhythm in the Word that keeps bringing your heart home, Grace Unfolding takes you through the Bible in a year, one day at a time (use code GRACE20 for 20% off). Come say hi on Instagram @mommajscozycottage.