We tend to think of life in chapters—beginnings and endings, arrivals and departures. But most of our days are spent in the in-between, where things are unfinished, unresolved, and unfolding. This is where we learn patience, where we wrestle with meaning, where we laugh, cry, flail, and do the deeply unglamorous work of being human.
The mess—the literal and figurative—isn’t something to escape. It’s something to notice, to lean into, to let it shape us. A little mess in my home is usually a sign that something worthwhile is happening—a half-prepped dinner while laughter (or yelling) fills the kitchen, a project spread across the table, a life being fully lived.
We’d love for life to be a carefully curated highlight reel, hopping from bright spot to bright spot. But the best moments—the truest ones—aren’t the polished ones. They happen in the middle, in the ordinary, in the space between what was and what’s next. The mess is where life takes shape—raw, real, and full of potential. When we pause to reflect, to connect, to find joy in the ordinary, we make space for meaning in the mess. These are the moments that stay with us long after the mess is gone.
I want to live a sticky life—a life where love takes hold, even in the hard places; where good conversations stretch long past reasonable hours; where ordinary moments take root and become part of who we are.
If you stick around, you’ll find pieces of my own unfolding story—the things I care about, the questions I’m asking, the practices I’m diving (or sticking a reluctant toe) into. But more than that, I hope you’ll find glimpses of your own story here too. A reminder that the messy middle is holy ground, that meaning is made in the in-betweens, and that even the most ordinary days are laced with beauty.
Welcome to The Sticky Life—a place to slow down, look closer, and make peace with the mess.
