I Thought I Needed More Time. I Actually Needed More Margin.

It was a Sunday afternoon during nap time.

I was rushing to finish shooting a Reel for a brand contract because it was my last chance to shoot the content before the deadline.

I was working full-time.

I had/have three little kids.

And somehow, in the small window of nap time, I was trying to film myself in clothes I did not need for money tied to a dream of being a content creator I had started chasing only a few months before.

Then the baby woke up.

I went in, pacified him, laid him back down, and walked back out to finish the video while he cried.

And I remember having this very clear moment of:

What am I doing?

How did I get here?

I had dreamed of becoming a mom for 34 years.

And there I was, living that dream times three, choosing to shoot content for a short-term dream while one of my babies cried in the next room.

That moment did not fix everything.

But it exposed something.

My life was moving faster than my values.

When Life Is Full, Speed Starts to Feel Normal

For a long time, I thought what I needed most was more time.

More time to pray.

More unhurried time with my kids.

More margin.

More time with my husband.

But over the last year, I’ve started wondering if time was never the whole problem.

Maybe the problem was speed.

Somewhere along the way, I had become accustomed to fast fashion, fast reactions, and fast mornings.

And I started noticing I was carrying that pace everywhere.

Into motherhood.

Into work.

Into my relationship with God.

Into my home.

Into my own nervous system.

I don’t think I was simply busy.

I think I had forgotten how to live slowly.

The Book That Helped Me Name It

So much of my awakening to the pace of my life came through The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer.

It has become one of the top three most life-shaping books I have ever read.

One line in particular has stayed with me:

“the solution to an overbusy life is not more time. It’s to slow down and simplify our lives around what really matters.”

That sentence gave language to something I had been feeling but could not fully name.

I did not just need a better calendar.

I needed resistance.

An active resistance to the pace of a culture that constantly tells us to hurry, achieve, consume, post, climb, and keep up.

And if I am being honest, that kind of hurry had formed me more than I realized.

It had shaped the way I mothered, worked, shopped, used my phone, and even approached God.

I had been moving so quickly that I wonder how often I missed Him in the life right in front of me.

The Cost of Slowing Down

This is the part that makes slow living sound less romantic.

Slowing down has cost me something.

First, it cost me a promotion.

I applied for a higher-level position at work and went through the interview process.

But somewhere along the way, I realized I did not want it anymore.

Not because it was a bad opportunity.

But because I knew the role would require me to speed up in a season where I sensed God asking me to slow down.

So I let it go.

That meant letting go of a pay increase and possibly the opportunity after that one too.

Second, it cost me the version of content creation I used to chase.

I stopped doing most of the brand deals I used to do.

Which means free clothes stopped showing up on my doorstep.

And direct deposits don’t show up anymore for shooting content for the clothes.

And that money was nice.

7 Rhythms Helping Me Create Margin in a Full Life

I have not completely changed my life.

I still work.

I still have three little kids.

I still write.

I still manage a home.

I still live a full life.

But I have started building small rhythms that help me resist the pace I had accepted as normal.

These are not rules.

They are not another list of things to master.

They are small practices, disciplines, and rhythms that are slowly helping me live with more intention.

1. Practicing Silence

Silence has become one of the small ways I am learning to live more slowly.

Sometimes it is a few quiet minutes in the car before walking into the next thing.

Sometimes it is folding laundry without turning on a podcast.

Sometimes it is sitting on the porch swing in the morning before the day starts asking things of me.

Silence gives my soul a chance to catch up.

It creates space for me to acticely place my mind on Christ.

Even when my mind wanders.

Even when it feels hard.

It helps me stop running from the present moment.

Even when all I can hear at first is how tired I am.

2. Creating Without Scrolling

I still create content.

I still post online.

I still use social media as part of Linen & Light Co.

But I no longer look at comments (Sorry if you left one).

I post through Facebook Business Manager, and most of the time, I have no idea how many followers, likes, or comments I have.

That might sound extreme, but it has been one of the healthiest boundaries I have created.

For a long time, I thought scrolling was a way to decompress.

A harmless break.

A few minutes to zone out.

But I have learned that many of the things I think are harmless can become like tiny grains of sand slowly tipping the scale.

Maybe one scroll does not bother me.

But it plants a seed of comparison I barely notice.

Then I listen to a podcast that plants another seed of, “She can do it all. Why can’t you?”

Then I see someone’s home, outfit, morning routine, business growth, vacation, or perfectly curated life, and suddenly my own life starts to feel lacking.

Not all at once.

Quietly.

Gradually.

Almost imperceptibly.

And that is what makes it so formative.

My attention is not neutral.

What I give it to will shape me.

And I want to be more careful with what is forming my desires.

3. Five Minutes of Prayer at Lunch

This one sounds almost too small to mention.

Five minutes.

But it has been one of the hardest disciplines for me.

Choosing to stop in the middle of my workday, sit with the Lord, and pray feels simple until I actually have to do it.

Full disclosure: I am writing this section during lunch, and I skipped my five minutes of prayer today so I could have more time to write.

Which is exactly why I need the rhythm!

Productivity is an idol I am still learning to dethrone.

Five minutes of prayer at lunch forces me to slow down.

It is like a pause button in the middle of the day, in case hustle has crept in that morning.

It reminds me that I am not a machine.

It reminds me that my work is not my source.

It reminds me that God is present in the middle of the day, not only before the day begins.

Five minutes does not change my schedule.

But it can change my awareness.

4. Downsizing My Closet

This is where my capsule wardrobe journey connects to something deeper.

At first, I thought simplifying my closet was about clothes.

And yes, it helped me get dressed faster.

But over time, I realized it was also about reducing the number of decisions asking for my attention every morning.

Ad it became a quiet resistance to fast fashion and the unethical practices that often lie beneath the fashion industry.

Because simplifying my closet was never only about having less.

It was about paying better attention to what I already had, what I actually wore, and what kind of consumption I wanted to participate in.

5. Buying Less Often

I used to buy quickly.

Rarely big purchases.

Usually small ones.

An on-sale top here.

An Amazon set for summer there.

Something for the kids.

Something for the house.

Something that felt like it would make life feel a little more beautiful, easier, or complete.

And sometimes those purchases were fine.

But sometimes shopping became a way to avoid what I did not want to feel.

Restlessness.

Insecurity.

Exhaustion.

Discontentment.

Now I am trying to create more space between wanting and buying.

Not because buying is bad.

But because desire deserves attention.

Why do I want this?

Do I need it?

Will I still want it next month?

Buying less often has slowed me down in a way I did not expect.

It has created room for contentment to grow.

6. Inviting People Over Before the House Is Perfect

I love a beautiful home.

Beauty is one of my core values.

I love lighting and music setting the mood before someone walks in.

I love a space that feels warm, thoughtful, peaceful, and welcoming.

But curating can turn into control quickly.

And if I am not careful, I can delay hospitality until everything feels ready.

The floors are not sticky.

The countertop has been cleared.

The bathroom does not look like I have two toddlers using it.

The toys are away.

The house feels presentable.

But community does not require perfection.

It does require willingness.

So I am learning to practice more of a “come on over” mentality.

To invite people into our real life, not only our manicured one.

And do not underestimate what you can accomplish with a mission and a ten-minute timer.

Clear the counters.

Wipe the bathroom.

Turn on the music.

Move the Magnatiles to one side of the room.

Open the door.

Sometimes the margin we need does not come from having a perfectly managed home.

It comes from letting people into the real one.

7. Reading Books More Than Content

Books have become one of the ways I slow my mind down.

Short-form content trains me to skim.

Books invite me to stay.

To think longer.

To wrestle.

To return.

To be formed slowly instead of stimulated quickly.

Some of the most meaningful shifts in my life over the last year have come through books.

Not because books fix everything.

But because long-form thought has a way of reaching places quick content rarely does.

Reading has become one way I resist the fragmentation of my attention.

It gives my mind somewhere deeper to go.

What Presence Means to Me Now

I used to think presence meant being fully available to everyone all the time.

Now I think presence means being awake to the moment I am actually in.

If I am writing a blog post, I want to be present to the work.

If I am building a Magnatile town, I want to be present with my kids.

If I am sitting on the front porch swing with the Lord in the morning, I want to actually be there.

Mind and body.

Not reliving the past.

Not rehearsing the future.

Not missing the only moment I have actually been given.

This is what I am after.

Not a slower life that looks beautiful from the outside.

A life with enough margin to notice God, love my people, and live more honestly in the season I am in.

I Thought I Needed More Time

I still have full days.

I still have more demands than capacity sometimes.

I still feel hurried more often than I want to admit.

But I am beginning to understand that the answer is not always more time.

Sometimes the answer is slowing down enough to receive the life already in front of me.

Sometimes that looks like carving out five minutes of margin for rhythms and disciplines that resist the hurried freight train that can be my own life.

Five minutes of prayer.

A smaller closet.

A phone put away.

A pause before buying.

A book instead of a scroll.

A table opened before the house is perfect.

These rhythms are small.

But small things repeated over time have a way of forming us.

And lately, I think that is what God is doing.

Not giving me a less full life.

Teaching me how to live with more margin inside the one I already have.