Place, Play, Plight

I just returned from a beautiful, connective work retreat in Puerto Rico. Beauty, rest, and brilliance were in full bloom. What made it even more meaningful was sharing the experience with my mom. Seeing it all through her eyes added a layer of joy I didn’t expect—and one I’ll treasure for a long time.

Grounding

If you’ve spent any time with me since June 2022, you’ve probably heard me poo poo Douglasville. A somewhat sleepy suburb on the outskirts of Atlanta was definitely not the vision when we relocated from Brooklyn.

But alas… here we are—and surprisingly, happily so. One of the unexpected gifts of living here is being less than 10 minutes from Sweetwater Creek State Park. This 2,500-acre park, basically in my backyard, has become one of my true happy places. I’m there bi-weekly for at least an hour and a half.

Sometimes I hike.

Sometimes I sit.

Sometimes I write.

Sometimes I do all of the above —or none of the above.

And every single time, something new is revealed. The time is so rich because it meets many forms of rest: mental, sensory, creative, and spiritual. Where is your happy place for rest these days? I’d love to know what places are helping you recharge and reconnect.

Gripping

It was a Sunday afternoon and we were in the house chillin’ when the doorbell rang. My husband and I looked at each other like, “You expecting someone?” “Nope. You?” Maybe it was a delivery. It wasn’t.

It was a little girl on a bike with three of her friends trailing behind her—a boy and two other girls. They had come to ask if my son Asaph could come out and play. This was a first for all of us. I didn’t even realize it was a milestone moment…until it happened. Our not-so-little boy was being invited to go play—without us.

I played it cool. Asaph? Not so much. He shouted something completely incomprehensible, grabbed his shoes, and dashed out the door with the most epic grin on his face. It was adorable for him—and honestly, it felt like a rite of passage for our whole family. Now, he’s officially part of the neighborhood play crew. How has a new community surprised and delighted you? I’d love to hear about the small, beautiful moments that have reminded you: “I belong here.”

Gifting

I’m constantly annoyed by the amount of junk mail I receive. I rarely give it much thought or energy—most of the important stuff comes online anyway. But one appeal letter recently stopped me in my tracks. As a fundraiser, I notice when an ask is done well—authentically, compellingly. This one made me feel something. And it made me want to do something.

From the visuals of those impacted, to the intentional use of Calibri paired with a handwritten-style font, this letter got it right. But what really grabbed me was the opening line: What should we do when the world is losing its light?

That question landed. I’ve been sitting with it—wondering what it truly means to light up the darkness. This letter didn’t just pose the question—it wove light all the way through the story:

Without your generosity, [young person] would have no light at all.

Without you, [mother] would have no world at all.

Your generosity has lit up my life.

What do you do when the world is losing its light?

Find a dark corner—and light it up instead.

Even though the stories were heavy, the invitation was clear: be part of the light. It wasn’t just a message for donors. It felt like a message for me, for us, for this moment. So now I’m passing the question to you: What do you do when the world is losing its light?

I’d love to hear where your joy is showing up these days. It would be my joy and honor to support you—or someone you know—on their rest and joy journey. Here’s to what’s ahead, together.

Joyfully,

Elandria