Have you ever hovered over the “Buy” button on a low-dollar item for a week straight?

I recently waited over a week to sign up for a $22 AI master class. Why the wait? Unclear.

Learning to build Claude skills is one of my low-level goals, and $22 was never going to blow my budget. But I stalled until the day before the class to register. It was like I was waiting for my board of directors to approve it. There is one person on that board. Clearly, she was not checking her email.

Women are so good at asking. We ask our calendars. We ask our people. We ask a version of ourselves from fifteen years ago who lived a very different life and had questionable bangs. It is as if everyone gets a vote except the woman actually living the life.

Here is the funny part. While I stall on the small stuff, I say yes before checking with the people it touches. Then I feel guilty and apologize for not asking first, even when my yes did them a favor and handed them an easy out of something they never wanted to do anyway.

Somewhere along the way, we decided we need permission to want something that is ours. As if the decision requires a permission slip signed by a majority of our inner circle first. It does not.

We were each made on purpose, with a purpose. How we use those gifts is up to us, not the HOA president. God did not give you a passion for something more and then ask you to file a request and CC the whole group before you act on it.

Yes, there are times to consult our calendars, our people, our energy before a final call. That is being considerate. It is not a request for permission. Permission is a tiny stack of slips you start signing yourself. Permission to want something that is yours. Permission to be a beginner. Permission to start. Permission to spend a Tuesday on the thing that lights you up instead of the thing that is merely on the list.

What permission slip can you sign for yourself this week? An afternoon to read? Mahjong 101? Starting your own Substack?

Yours is the only signature Your Next Yes needs. 🩵

When my son was around 13, he started building his own world. From wanting his own space to spending time in sports and other interests, he was becoming more independent. By the time he started to drive, he required less of my hands-on parenting and more of my oversight and wisdom. As he developed his own world, I saw I had more room in mine. All the minutes and hours that had previously been so focused on him had been gradually opening up.

With each season of his life, I began to notice the pockets of time that were being returned to me. Never being one who enjoyed not knowing what to do with herself, I started to build a few things for me. Dinners out with friends. Learning to play tennis. Daydreaming of a side hustle. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely still needed a locked-in parent. But his growing independence also meant more independence for me. Instead of waiting for him to be away at college or completely out of the house to seek my interests, I began to practice it in small doses.

We’ve been fed a lie that as parents our lives are to be lived entirely for our kids and that we can have nothing of our own. Kids are a lot, that’s true. But we don’t have to completely lose ourselves in exchange for them. We can use the free time we have now, while they are at practice, while they are hanging out with friends, while they are playing video games in their rooms, to practice pursuing our own goals and dreams. The empty or emptying nest doesn’t hand you a new goal or dream; it gives you the room to finally go all in chasing the ones you’ve had all along.

If you’ve been building anything in the margins of free time, fleshing out an idea for a book club, studying up on mahjong, or window-shopping for a boutique space, then you have been practicing, too. This is exactly the season so many women over 45 finally have room to chase real goals again. With each passing year, your pockets of time will continue to expand. Imagine where you could be once all that time comes back, if you’re already building in the margins now.

Freedom isn’t waiting for someday. It’s already headed your way, one pocket of time at a time.

All month, I’ve been writing about slowing down this summer. About what actually happens when you stop running and look around. If you let it, summer has a way of handing you right back to yourself.

Somewhere in the middle of all of it, I started keeping a little mental inventory. What is this slower pace showing me about myself that the other eleven months of the year keep buried?

Three things I’ve noticed about myself this summer:

• When I slow down, I actually see things. Not just the big picture, but the details, the tiny elements that make up the whole. I notice the texture of a conversation, the way someone’s face lights up when they talk about something they love. I see people not just on the surface, but who they actually are. Turns out the busyness had been blurring all of it. (Not great, considering I really like people.)

• When I slow down, I pay more attention to my body. And more importantly, I actually listen. I rest when I need to, even if that means skipping a workout or adjusting my morning rhythm. I stop treating my body like a machine I need to keep running and start treating it like someone worth paying attention to. Wild concept, I know.

• When I slow down, I experience quality time. With my people, with God, with myself. The tasks and the busywork are still there. They always will be. But I stop letting them run the show. I let myself be where I am, with who I’m with, and the relationships get deeper because of it.

None of this is groundbreaking. But it’s mine, and it took slowing down to see it.

Here’s the thing about finding yourself in midlife, whether you’re deep in the empty nester season or just starting to get a little breathing room: the answers you’ve been looking for are usually right there in the space you’ve been too busy to notice.

Before July shows up with its sparklers, celebrations, and all the things, I want to give you something. It’s your turn to take a summer inventory.

Three journal prompts to close out June:

1. What have you been too busy to notice? Think about the people around you, the details of your days, the moments that passed before you could really take them in. What would you actually see if you slowed down and looked?

2. What has your body been trying to tell you that you keep overriding? Not just physically, but the quieter signals asking for more rest, more care, more space. What would change if you listened, even just this week?

3. Where have you been showing up but not really there? Which relationships, which conversations, which parts of your own life deserve more of the fully-present you?

Grab your journal, a cold drink, and just start writing. You might surprise yourself.

There’s something about sipping a cold drink on the porch in June that I don’t want to rush.

The heat hasn’t fully set in yet. The air still has some give to it. And for a few minutes, at least, the summer feels long and full of possibility.

But even now, at the end of June, August is already whispering. Conversations about roommates, dorm decorating, and class registration are casual today. They won’t stay that way. July and August will overflow with preparing, shopping, packing, and moving. And then, just like that, it’s September.

This summer, I’ve been paying attention to what happens when I slow down on purpose. When I create moments instead of just moving through them, that’s where real connection shows up. The slower pace opens me up to love on my people well. And, I’m learning, it leaves room to take care of myself too.

That softened rhythm is what carries us through July and strengthens us for what August holds.

Here’s what I keep noticing. Some women stumble across the finish line in August, exhausted and behind, with no idea what they’re supposed to do with themselves once the kids are settled and the house is quiet. Others step into September knowing exactly what they’re moving toward.

I want that second thing for you.

What if this were the summer you poured into your kids and yourself? What if September felt like something to step into, not something to survive?

The question isn’t whether there’s more for you. There is. The question isn’t whether you’re allowed to choose yourself in this season. The real question is whether this is the summer you decide to do something about it.

Your September self is already waiting.

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When this happens, there is an unsettled grief. You are sad because your kids no longer need you in the same way. Your role as a mom has shifted with the season. While you are saddened by having to release your older children into the world, you are, at the same time, excited for what lies ahead for them. New cities. First jobs. Their own front doors.

Grief and excitement, sitting side by side.

And, just maybe, you’re a little excited about what lies ahead for you, too. As you look beyond the summer, you see a calendar with more space, a home that’s a little quieter, and a dream or a goal you’ve been quietly holding onto for longer than you’d like to admit.

The feelings you’re sitting with are also pointing you toward something. You know what it is. You’ve always known. You just haven’t had the space to do anything about it. Until now.

I know this feeling.

The time you’ve needed to put toward the goal or dream in your heart is no longer out of reach. The challenge is knowing how to start. How do you move forward with hope for something that’s finally yours, while still honoring the season you’re grieving?

You don’t have to choose. Both can be true at the same time.

When my own season shifted, I had that same mix of grief and possibility sitting side by side. It was disorienting and clarifying all at once. You are allowed, encouraged even, to sit in both the sadness of your kids stepping into their own lives and the quiet excitement of what your next chapter holds.

Moving forward doesn’t require a five-year plan or having it all figured out. It starts with naming the goal or dream that’s been sitting in your heart, building the confidence to pursue it, and creating a life that actually supports it.

This is exactly the work I do with women in Your Next Yes, my 90-day coaching program.

If anything in this letter felt like it was written for you, I’d love for you to grab a spot on my calendar

for a discovery call. It’s a real conversation, like two friends having coffee, not a sales pitch. You’ll leave with clarity about where you are and what your next step looks like, whether or not we end up working together.

If you’re honest, part of you has been waiting for exactly this season. Now it’s here. Give yourself permission to hold both feelings and move forward with hope and curiosity.

Grab a Spot on My Calendar

As we move from our 40s into our 50s, we all experience this strange feeling. It’s the shift. Our kids are moving toward something new. They are starting high school, going off to college, starting real-world jobs, and moving out on their own. But they’re not the only ones in transition. So are we. We are all in the in-between, and that’s no small thing.

Summer has always been a time to slow down, to sleep in later, and to stay up later. But this summer, we have the intersection of two things happening at once. This summer, we get to be fully present for the moments with our kids that we won’t have again. The late dinners, the last summer at home, the sporadic conversations that happen when there is no rush. In that same stillness, something in us gets to surface, too. Our own questions, our own next chapter. Slowing down doesn’t mean choosing them over us or us over them. Slowing down is the rare season where we both get to breathe.

So many of us moms are feeling that push-and-pull right now. The push to be fully present with our kids in every moment before their next big step, and the pull to acknowledge that their next step is uncovering the readiness within us. We have spent days and months and years pouring into our families, our work, our responsibilities. As this season of pouring out begins to change, we begin to ask ourselves what comes next for us. We’re not asking with a sense of urgency. No, instead it’s a hopeful curiosity. We’re beginning to experience that quiet pull of our own next yes.

Moving slower to savor this time doesn’t mean we have stalled. Slowing down invites us to pay closer attention to our moments, to our kids, and to ourselves. Purposefully slowing down this summer may just be the most intentional thing we do all year.

I would love to know where you are in this season. What does this summer feel like for you, and what are you noticing?

Slowing down is not stopping. And it’s not selfish. Intentionally lingering in these summer days is the breathing space our kids and we need before stepping into what lies ahead.

That is the gift hiding inside a slower summer.

This all started with four pairs of white jeans and an overstuffed closet that was subtly calling out my overstuffed life. My choice to embark on a Minimalist May was made in my closet, and here’s what I’m taking away.

Honestly, it went better than I expected. I hadn’t given myself enough credit for being able to tell myself no. That said, trying not to shop during a month with some of the biggest sales of the year is like starting a diet in November.

Saying no to impulse purchases and non-necessities, along with freeing up time in my calendar, were my biggest goals for the month. I’d like to tell you I made no rogue purchases, but I did give in twice. Both were low-ticket items, but didn’t pass the necessity filter. There was some real temptation over Memorial Day weekend. I received newsletters and emails from my favorite influencers and brands, which I immediately deleted. My favorite store (shout out to Evereve!) had a huge sale, and I had reward points to spend there. I had already given myself permission to buy if something caught my eye, but I managed to let the sale end without giving in.

These were small victories that turned out to be bigger than I realized.

The bigger wins came from the things I committed to say no to:

• No to keeping things out of fear. I completed major closet clean-outs and let go of the stuff I was keeping out of “what if,” realizing that if I hadn’t needed it recently (or at all), I could replace it down the line.

• No to overfilling weekends. I got my most important work done during the week, so weekends could be for people and things I love.

• No to FOMO. Instead of saying yes to being out all weekend, I stayed in at least one night each weekend, made dinner, watched a show with Jay, and discovered that the restoration I was looking for was waiting right there at home.

But the biggest shift happened back where this all began.

The infamous white jeans have become my beacon for less. I started the month with a closet I didn’t recognize and a life that was exploding like a can of biscuits. I’m ending this month knowing exactly what I have and a newfound contentment. This was never just about the messy closet. It was the clarity I needed. When I created space, I could see what I was working with: in my closet, my calendar, and my life.

The choice for minimalism got me thinking about enough. What does enough mean to me? Enough is filling and satisfying. It’s not a ceiling, but a signal of near-capacity alerting me that anything added needs to be intentional.

Minimalist May wasn’t perfectly executed, but even in my temptation, I made progress. I found within myself what I actually needed and wanted: the space to really breathe. No gasping or short breaths, but big, deep, belly-filling breaths. That’s the kind of restoration you can’t buy.

Your turn: Is there one thing you’ve been holding onto, in your closet, your calendar, or your commitments, that you’re ready to let go of this month? Share with me in the comments.

Your stomach drops immediately. The dread is instantaneous.

You’re not riding the Tower of Terror at Disney World.

You’ve said yes to something that should have been no, and now you’re stuck.

The ask wasn’t outrageous, illegal, or outside of your comfort zone. And, your yes was all it should be. Warm. Genuine.

But when measured against your life, the season you’re in, your priorities and calendar, that simple yes has now become a burden you’re carrying.

You show up to your yes dressed in regret and dread. You’re too stretched thin for this right now, but you’re loyal to your word. You’re nowhere near your best self, but you’re there. Just like you said you would be.

Just reading this likely makes you cringe. You know this scenario and these feelings all too well. You’ve been here before, many times.

If you’re a “Yes Girl,” you’re not alone here. As women, we like to be helpful, to be invited, to be included. We often say yes with genuine intention, just impulsively. It’s not a character flaw. Our yes comes from a place of good intention. Where we trip up is when our yesses outpace our capacity. A yes, no matter how appealing or fun it sounds at the moment, can end up being very costly. More than just your time, it can cost your peace, presence, and margin.

Let’s look at a different way of saying yes. What if, before the yes ever left your lips, whether out of desire or guilt, you had a two-question filter to run it through? Not so you can do a 180-degree turn from a “yes girl” to a “no girl,” but so you can become someone whose yesses are meaningful.

The next time an event, opportunity, or invitation is given to you, ask these two questions of yourself before responding:

1. Does this align with my priorities and my season right now? If it doesn’t fit where you are and where you’re headed, the answer is no. And that’s a complete sentence. But, if you need to season it with a little Southern hospitality, then say, “No, thank you.”

2. Will I still be happy I said yes to this tomorrow? This is where we put some gentle brakes on our impulsivity. The pause before the answer. If tomorrow-you would feel relief at a cancellation, then your answer today is no.

As I said earlier, “no “ is a complete sentence. As women, we often fear that short, simple phrase is too harsh or not enough. We worry it will sting like the emotionless “k” we get in text responses. So how do we gracefully say no, showing true appreciation for the ask while confidently declining? Here are a few options:

“Thank you for thinking of me, but it doesn’t fit in my calendar right now.”

“Right now I’m really focusing on {fill in the blank} and won’t be able to, but thank you for thinking of me.”

“I appreciate you thinking of me. I’m going to have to pass this time.”

A good no protects your best yes. When you feel free to say no to the things that sound good, you are free to say yes to the opportunities and invitations that are best. You are creating space to show up as your best, most engaged self to what matters most.

You are valuable. Your time is valuable. And so is your yes.

Are you a “Yes Girl,” too? I have one question for you. What’s an area where a gentle, confident no could protect your time and energy this season? Drop yours in the comments.

How many pairs of white jeans does a girl need?

Apparently, if you’re me, it’s four.

I recently bought new versions of summer’s staples: white jeans and white shorts. I remembered thinking that at the end of last season, I needed to replace these items by this spring. Without checking my stored clothes, I purchased both just as the temperatures were starting to turn.

A couple of weeks later, I grabbed my bin of spring and summer clothes in order to swap out my seasonal clothes. You can imagine my surprise when I discovered a pair of white jeans and a pair of white shorts, both essentially new. Turned out, past Julie took advantage of an end-of-season sale last year.

I appreciated myself for the forethought and saving money. And then laughed at the fact that also in the bin were three other pairs of white jeans.

I had to laugh. Then I paused. Then I asked myself:

“How did this happen? Why do I have four pairs of white jeans?”

Looking around my bedroom, the answer was quite obvious. I hadn’t had time to actually go through my closet or my stored clothes to see what I had (or what I had forgotten I had purchased).

Even though I was looking directly at myself in my closet mirror, something about me was unfamiliar.

So I asked myself the obvious question: “Why didn’t you have time?”

Oh yeah...I was starting and launching my own business. And getting married.

The past seven months have been beautiful chaos.

Beautiful because the past season was full of new experiences, new challenges, and new opportunities. Chaotic because these things were happening all at once. With anything new, you can plan and prepare for what you expect, but honestly, you never know what you’re actually working with until you’re in it.

My life was overcrowded.

Typically, you think of an overcrowded life as a calendar overflowing with meetings, events, and appointments. A to-do list longer than a marathon. Receipts piling up on the counter.

That can be true. But it can also be something as simple as multiple pairs of the same jeans. It can be a calendar that hasn’t caught up to the season of life you’re actually in.

With all of my newness, typical chores and tasks, like cleaning a closet, were forfeited. This left a mark not only in my closet, but also in my budget, my calendar, and my free time. I realized I needed a reset.

Several years ago, someone I follow on the internet introduced me to the idea of Minimalist May. Not one to consider myself a minimalist, I didn’t pay it much attention. Fast forward to that day when I was outnumbered by denim, suddenly minimalism seemed a little more appealing.

So this May, I will be participating in my own personal Minimalist May. Not as a trend or a challenge. But because my life needs a little breathing room. I’m still working out the particulars, but I’m scaling back on purchases (not just white jeans). I’m guarding my calendar to create space for my people, recreation, and daydreaming. I’m getting quiet in order to remember and focus on the things that actually matter.

Chances are, unlike me, you are not coming out of launching a business while getting married. But, likely you are coming out of your own beautifully chaotic season: your kids are finishing the school year, your oldest (or youngest) is going to college, you are ready to retire, you’re ready to do something more with your life.

The feeling of unfamiliarity is known to you. You know, and maybe even enjoy, the feeling of a full life. The question isn’t whether a full life is good. The question is, is your life full of the right things?

What would it look like to give yourself just a little more breathing room in May?

If you see me this month, in person or in a post, I’ll probably be wearing white jeans. But with a shirt I already owned, enjoying time with my people, breathing a little deeper.

Is there an area of your life that could use a little more breathing room? Share in the comments. We can encourage each other, be a place of accountability, and come June 1, let’s celebrate together.

For a long time, I believed two things about showing up.

The first was that consistency meant perfection. If I missed a day, skipped a session, didn’t go all out, or let something slide, I had broken the streak, and the whole thing was compromised. So I would either do it perfectly, or I wouldn’t do it at all. And more often than I’d like to admit, I chose “not at all.”

The second was that strength meant pushing harder. The answer to feeling behind, overwhelmed, or stuck was always more. More effort. More hours. More discipline. Rest felt like a reward I hadn’t earned yet, not a practice I actually needed.

Both of those beliefs felt very true to me. They even sounded noble, like I should be applauded for them. But they were quietly working against me the entire time.

Here’s what I know now.

Consistency isn’t about a perfect record. It’s about faithfully showing up, again and again. The woman who shows up six days out of ten, every week, for a year, builds something real. The woman waiting until she can show up all ten days is still waiting. Strength isn’t built in the heroic moments. It’s built in the ordinary, unremarkable ones.

And rest? Rest is not the opposite of strength. It’s part of the process. In the gym, your muscles don’t grow during the workout. They grow during the recovery. The same is true for your life, your calling, and your capacity. Pushing harder when your body or spirit is depleted doesn’t build you. It quietly chips away at you.

The same principle showed up in my work. When I started my coaching business, I felt like I had to know everything all at once. I consumed everything I could get my hands on and began to believe I would never be fully ready to launch. So I pressed beyond normal working hours, letting work seep into my weekends and take away from my Sabbath. And yet, I still didn’t feel like I was making progress. Burnt out and depleted of joy, I forced myself to rest. I built boundaries around my work and stopped treating everything as urgent. I became consistent in working and resting. I had to learn what I teach now: margin isn’t a luxury. It’s what makes your work sustainable.

The long game doesn’t go to the woman who gave everything in one bold season. It goes to the woman who kept showing up, kept resting, and kept moving forward at a pace she could actually sustain.

Friend, if you’ve been telling yourself that you’re failing or falling short because your consistency isn’t perfect, or that you need to push through instead of pull back, I want to gently offer you this: that’s not strength. That’s the thing you might need to unlearn.

Your next step:

This week, pick one area where you’ve been waiting for perfect conditions before you show up consistently. It doesn’t have to be big. Then show up once, imperfectly, and notice what that feels like. That’s where long-game strength actually starts.

I’m cheering you on,

Julie

For a long time, I had my own version of that feeling. The quiet one. The one that shows up when life is genuinely good, and you’re genuinely grateful, and still something whispers that there’s more. More purpose. More intention. Something you’re supposed to be doing that you haven’t said yes to yet.

I know that feeling well. And for a long time, I did what a lot of us do with it. I got busy. I stayed practical. I told myself it wasn’t the right time.

And then one day, I decided to stop waiting for the right time and just say yes.

Today I’m officially launching Julie Davis Coaching and my signature program, Her Next Yes.

Her Next Yes is a 90-day one-on-one coaching experience for women who are ready to get clear on their next chapter. Women who have spent years being faithful to everyone and everything around them, and are finally ready to turn toward that quiet voice and ask, okay, what is it? What’s my next yes?

Here’s how it works. We spend 90 days together working through three things. First, we get you clear on your gifts, your values, and what you’re actually being called toward. Then we clear the path, the guilt, the fear, the overcrowded calendar, the voice that says you’re being selfish for wanting something of your own. And then we build. A real plan. Real rhythms. A life that actually reflects what matters most to you.

Grace over grind. Rhythms over resolutions.

I started this Substack because I wanted a place to think out loud alongside women who are asking the same questions I’ve been asking. And now I get to do that work every single day.

If any part of this is resonating with you, if you’ve been feeling that pull and you’re finally ready to do something about it, I would love to have a conversation with you. A free discovery call, like two friends having coffee and conversation about where you are and where you want to go.

You can learn more and book a call at juliedaviscoach.com.

And if this isn’t for you right now, but you know a woman it might be for, I would be so grateful if you’d pass it along.

Thank you for being here. Truly.

Here’s to your next yes. 🤍

Julie

Something is gently tugging at you. You know the feeling. There’s a tender yet firm pull on your heart, your soul, your spirit.

You might know exactly what it is, or you might not have a name for it yet. The pull isn’t loud enough to call a plan, and it never stops long enough for you to ignore it. It just sits there, showing up in the in-between moments, the quieter moments, asking a question you’re not sure you’re ready to answer.

I know that feeling. A couple of years ago, I felt it, too.

I didn’t have a business plan. I barely had a business idea. I wasn’t sure how to run a company, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I trusted myself enough to try. But there was this quiet excitement, this joy inside me that I couldn’t shake. And I kept finding myself surrounded by women who had taken the leap I was afraid to take.

After months of trying to ignore the stirring, I did something I didn’t feel ready to do. I said yes to a calling, to a dream, before I had all the answers. Actually, before I had even a handful of answers.

Taking that step is still one of the bravest things I’ve ever done. Not because it was dramatic, but because it was a quiet choice, a decision made before my confidence showed up.

Here’s what I’ve learned since then: the woman who can carry her calling doesn’t wait until she feels ready. She becomes ready by taking action.

There are three things I’ve witnessed that build that kind of woman, in my own life and from the brave, insanely smart women business owners around me.

She shows up before she feels ready.

Readiness is a myth that needs to be busted. The women I know who are living out their purpose and calling didn’t start with confidence. They started with willing hearts and minds and excitement for the future. Showing up, even imperfectly, is how you build the strength to keep showing up. The first yes is rarely comfortable, and it doesn’t have to be.

She says yes slowly and intentionally.

Wisdom and courage aren’t about saying yes to everything. They’re about saying yes to the right things, even when they’re uncomfortable, even when they’re scary, and no to the things that just feel urgent. As a lifelong Yes Girl, when I started my business, I had to learn to protect my yes. Every scattered yes cost me time and energy I didn’t have for the true calling in front of me. This is where quality over quantity really matters. Your yes is valuable. Spend it well.

She talks to herself like the woman she is becoming.

This one happens in the quiet, but it might be the most important habit of all. The story you tell yourself about who you are will either build the woman you’re becoming or keep you stuck. You don’t have to fully believe it yet. You just have to start practicing. Tell yourself multiple times a day: I am worthy of my dreams. I am capable. I am becoming a woman who carries her calling.

Repeat those words until they stop feeling like sentences and start feeling like descriptions of you.

Friend, if you feel that gentle tug on your heart, if there is excitement in your soul over a dream, this is for you. You don’t need to know all the steps. You just need the first one.

What’s one small thing you can say yes to this week? It doesn’t have to be the whole calling. Just the next step.

Drop your small first step in the comments. Cheering you on!

I’ve been reading My Friends by Fredrik Backman, and I had to put it down after this line:

“Life is long, Louisa. Everyone will tell you that it’s short, but they’re lying. It’s a long, long life.”

We toggle back and forth, don’t we? Life is too short. There isn’t enough time. But what if the truer thing is this: if we use our time well, we have more than enough to do what matters and make an impact. That’s worth sitting with.

From my Lent devotional, a prayer from Saint Augustine that I keep returning to:

“Lord Jesus, let me know myself and know You, and desire nothing save only You. Let me die to myself and live in You.”

That last line. Every single time.

Episode 1037 of That Sounds Fun with Annie F. Downs: "What If We Actually Prayed the Way Jesus Taught Us?" with Matt Smallbone. Still thinking about it.

What’s something you’ve been noticing lately? I’d love to know.

I stepped away from a steady paycheck with no clear plan.
Not because it was wrong.
It just wasn’t aligned with where I felt called to grow.

Growth is uncomfortable. That’s why we even have the phrase growing pains. As children, our bodies ache as they stretch and strengthen.

As adults, growth can feel much the same.

We feel discomfort around certain situations and choices.
We sense uncertainty.
We wrestle with anxiety.

This month, I’ve been reflecting on my word for the year: sacrifice.
Not the kind that feels like punishment, but the kind that looks more like pruning.

When I decided to leave my job, the hardest thing I gave up wasn’t a steady paycheck.

With that decision, and each small step of faith that has followed, God has been pruning things in me:

Certainty.
External validation.
A clear title.
The comfort of always knowing how to answer the question, “So what do you do?”

Did I have to leave in order to grow? Maybe not.

I could have taken the easier path and stayed longer, trying to build something new on the side. That would have been safer. More comfortable.

But it wouldn’t have been aligned.
And it wouldn’t have been obedience.

I won’t pretend it’s easy. There are moments when it still feels uncomfortable. Moments when questions creep in.

But even with that, there is something deeper I keep experiencing.

Peace about the decision.

Clarity when I sit down to work each morning.

Excitement about building Julie Davis Media and the work I feel called to do with the women I will coach.

The kind of peace that comes when you know you’ve stepped forward in faith.

Branches aren’t pruned because they’re failing.
They’re pruned so they can bear more fruit. (John 15:2)

And I’m wondering if you might be standing near a similar edge right now.

Not necessarily about a job, but about something in your life that feels secure, but also slightly misaligned.

Where in your life does choosing growth feel like pruning right now?

Maybe you already know. Or maybe you’re just starting to sense it.

If this resonates with you, hit reply and tell me what you’re pruning in this season.
I read every response—and I’d be honored to pray for you too.

If you would’ve told me last January that loss would be the theme of my year, I would’ve laughed…and then panicked. Loss feels like a word we avoid until it shows up at our front door. But sometimes, it comes carrying gifts we didn’t expect.

2025 has been a season of loss for me. Thankfully, I haven’t experienced a death-type loss. But all loss has a dying feel to it.

In His kindness, the Lord prepared me to expect loss—at least in part—and it actually started toward the end of 2024.

It’s important to remember that not all loss is bad. I knew I’d be “losing” my son to college in the fall of 2024. He’d be moving out and charting his own path.

Around that same time, I learned one of my best friends and her family would likely be moving to Florida. I had months to prepare, as they didn’t move until the end of the year, but they’re basically family to me—and their move cracked a small piece of my heart.

As 2025 began, I sensed the Lord still whispering the word loss. I wasn’t sure what else might be changing, but I knew He wasn’t finished. And the loss that came next was the hardest.

I believe one of the most painful losses we as women face is the loss of a friendship. A deep friendship I’d held for over a decade began to slowly unravel early in the year. We both tried for months, but it started to feel forced. The comfortable space we’d had for years suddenly didn’t fit anymore. Nothing dramatic happened—no blow-up, no harsh words—it just quietly came to a close.

Then, toward the end of the summer, I learned another close friend was moving. Thankfully, this one was just from my neighborhood to a new home. She’s been one of my best friends for 15 years. For the past two years, we have been friends, neighbors, and coworkers. While I miss the ease of spontaneous hangouts, she’s now just a short drive away.

So by early August, here’s what had shifted: my son moved to college, and I experienced three significant changes with women who were part of my inner circle. I still sensed the Lord preparing me for more, but I assumed those changes were further out.

Proverbs 3:5 says to “lean not on your own understanding,” and this year I’ve understood that more deeply than ever. Enter the end of August.

The company I’d served for seven years was reorganizing so we could grow. The plans were intense, and having the right people in the right roles was essential. The role I was asked to step into simply did not align with who I am. When it was presented to me, I felt the Spirit say “no” immediately. I had always imagined I would leave that job after my son finished college, but it became clear that God was moving me on much sooner. So at the end of August, without a plan, I resigned.

Loss isn’t always devastating, but it almost always brings challenge. If we look only at the surface, all we’ll see is what’s gone—what changed, what we no longer hold. But if we sit with our loss long enough to process the what, the how, and the why, something more begins to unfold. We begin to see the gain in the loss.

Take leaves, for example. They’re surprisingly good teachers in this department. We remember from school (okay, maybe kindergarten science now) that leaves are green in spring and summer because of chlorophyll. But as summer ends, the chlorophyll breaks down, and the green fades. That’s when we see the yellows, oranges, and reds.

You might be thinking, “Yes, Julie, we know this.” BUUUUT…did you know that the yellow and orange pigments were there all along? And red pigments? Those are created new. None of this beauty would appear without the loss of the green.

Sometimes, loss uncovers what has been hidden. Sometimes loss creates something entirely new.

Loss is loss—something is gone. But often, loss carries gain too.

In my year of loss, I’ve gained the joy of watching my son turn into a young adult living his own life. I’m now well-acquainted with the Southwest Jacksonville flight and can loosely navigate Amelia Island. I understand the value of long-term friendships, the work they require, and the grace of holding them loosely in seasons of change. I’ve welcomed new friends. I’ve tried new restaurants in my friend’s new neighborhood. Mostly, I’ve learned that nothing I hold is guaranteed—and that there is deep, anchoring peace in trusting the Lord when I can’t see the whole picture.

To uncover strengths and skills I didn’t know I had, I had to lose what was familiar. To step into new opportunities, relationships, and a deeper closeness with Jesus, I had to release the comfortable. I had to be willing to exchange what was for what is possible.

We see it in the leaves. We see it in ourselves.

There is beauty in loss.

🎯 Actionable Takeaway

This week, ask the Lord to show you one place where loss is making room for new color. It might be subtle. It might be surprising. But ask Him to help you see the hidden pigment coming through.

✍🏻 Journaling Thought

Where in your life have you felt something “fall away” this past year — and what unexpected color or goodness has started to show up in its place?

My whole life, I’ve been the buttoned-up, Type A, Enneagram 3, failure-fearing, perfection-striving girl. Don’t get me wrong—I love a good laugh, just not when it involves me.

But every once in a while, you find yourself in a situation that calls for silly. And it makes you very uncomfortable.

That’s where I found myself last week.

My team was having a fall fun day - snacks, trivia, and games. Like straight-up youth group games. The kind that made me anxious in youth group, so you can imagine how they feel now.

These games involved things like “riding” a broomstick while balancing a small pumpkin on your head and moving a cookie from your forehead to your mouth without using your hands. Despite the cool temperature, I was in a full-on sweat.

Here’s what I learned, though: when I let my guard down, relaxed my shoulders, and leaned into the moment, the stress started to fade. When I remembered the point—to have fun and bond as a team—I stopped caring about looking goofy. No one cared whether I balanced a pumpkin perfectly or had cookie crumbs stuck to my face. It wasn’t about perfection or performance. It was about connection.

Have you ever felt that way?

Forget about the silly factor. Have you ever been in a situation where you were more focused on how you appeared or performed than on what was actually happening around you?

That may feel like a “safe” space, but it’s actually a trap. When we hold back out of fear, we keep ourselves from fully experiencing life—and the people in it. We get so caught up in ourselves that we miss the moment. And in doing so, we also keep others from seeing who we really are. We might appear perfect on the outside, but we’ve actually missed out on a perfect moment.

Turns out, I’m surprisingly good at riding a broomstick while balancing a pumpkin on my head. I blame Botox for my inability to move a cookie down my face, though.

And honestly? Silly is its own kind of perfect.

🌿 Faith Reflection: I think God delights in our laughter. He doesn’t just tolerate our playfulness - He created it. In fact, I imagine He smiles when we stop taking ourselves so seriously and simply enjoy the life He’s given us.

“A cheerful heart is good medicine.” — Proverbs 17:22

Maybe being silly every now and then isn’t childish—it’s childlike faith in action.

✍️ Journaling Thought

When was the last time you felt truly free to be yourself—unfiltered, unguarded, and maybe even a little silly? What would it look like to invite more of that kind of joy and freedom into your everyday life?

I was a beginner again this week — I started a new position at my church. Not only am I no longer working from home, but my weekend has shifted to Friday and Saturday instead of the usual Saturday/Sunday. Needless to say, I’m in the process of figuring out some new rhythms.

As a planner, there’s this little voice in my head saying I should have already thought through all of this and had a perfect plan in place from day one.

Y’all… that’s just insanity.

Has anyone else felt that way? That guilty whisper that says you should have been ready before you even started? That you should just know how to create a new rhythm or routine before you’ve even dipped your toes into this new season?

Along with being crazy, that notion is simply false. As women, we often “should” on ourselves more than we give ourselves grace. But grace isn’t meant only for others — it’s meant for us, too.

When you’re stepping into a new rhythm, routine, or season, it’s wise to think ahead about what might be coming. You can start laying new foundations, knowing they’ll shift and grow as you do.

That’s where tools like The Daily Well’s “Looking Ahead” worksheet come in handy. It helps you map out what’s coming in your week — both the knowns (appointments, commitments) and the maybes (tasks, errands, ideas).

You can download the “Looking Ahead” worksheet here and give yourself a few quiet minutes to prepare. It’s a simple way to plan with peace and grace — not perfection — and step confidently into your week ahead.

On September 22, I had a revelation. Don’t get too excited—it wasn’t revolutionary. But it was an epiphany for me.

That day, I realized 2025 had 101 days left—100 if you didn’t count that actual day. As I drove to my co-working space, I felt a spark of determination. What if I made these final 100 days some of the best of the year? What if I used them to finish strong and set myself up for a brilliant beginning in 2026?

The concept of my Brilliant 100 Days wasn’t entirely new. Back in 2019, I stumbled into Rachel Hollis’ Last 90 Days Challenge, based on her Five to Thrive—five habits centered on wellness and gratitude. I haven’t participated in that program for a while, but the idea behind it stuck with me.

So, right there in the parking lot, I decided to make it my own. I extended it to 100 days (because if 90 is good, isn’t 100 just a little better?). And since five is my favorite number, I chose to focus on five key habits.

Here are the five daily focuses of my Brilliant 100 Days:

• Wake up at 4:45 a.m. on weekdays and 6:30 a.m. on Saturdays

• No alcohol… basically (except for celebrations and holidays)

• Read 20 pages of non-fiction daily

• Hit my macros consistently—and track them honestly

• Take a 20-minute prayer walk every day

• Blog weekly (my one weekly goal)

Each of these habits ties into a pillar of wellness—physical, spiritual, or mental. Together, they form the foundation of my personal growth. And if we’re not growing, we’re… well, you know. 😉

I chose these particular focuses because they reflect the areas of life I value most in this season: my health, my relationship with Jesus, using my gifts, and building the business God has placed on my heart.

But here’s the thing: there’s no formula for your own Brilliant 100 Days. You don’t need five goals. You might choose two, or even one. What matters most is clarity—selecting a few meaningful areas to strengthen or nurture. Even one consistent focus can change how you end this year and begin the next.

I’m keeping myself accountable in a few simple ways:

• A Post-it note in my planner that moves with me each day

• A habit tracker in my planner

• Daily reflections in my OneDay app

• And, of course, sharing with friends—and here with you

Now, let’s be honest: these are ideals. For an Enneagram 3 like me, the drive to do them perfectly every day is real. (Cute, but absurd.) There’s no room for perfection here—only motivation and grace. Because life happens. And getting up at 4:45 a.m.? It’s hard.

By the time you read this, there are no longer 100 days left in the year. There might not even be 90. But that doesn’t matter. Whether you have 75, 45, 30, or just 5 days left, it’s never too late to infuse your life with purpose, joy, and inspiration.

Join me in finishing this year—and stepping into 2026—brilliantly. ✨

What’s one thing you can focus on daily that would make a positive impact by year’s end and set you up beautifully for the new year?

🌿 Faith Reflection What I’m learning in this process is that discipline without dependence quickly turns into striving. My Brilliant 100 Days isn’t just about what I can do—it’s about what God can do in me when I show up with intention. Every early morning, every walk, every small act of obedience is a chance to say, “Lord, I’m here. Shape me.” This challenge isn’t really about achievement; it’s about alignment—aligning my daily rhythm with His greater purpose. And when we do that, even the smallest actions become sacred.

It’s a big day of celebration! The Daily Well is officially here! 🎉

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Days well planned. Lives well lived.

Recently, I traded in conference calls and deadlines for something entirely different: a JOBB.

Nope, I didn’t spell that wrong. And, no, I don’t mean another job like J-O-B. I mean JOBB—the Joy of Being a Beginner.

After more than 20 years as a communications professional and executive, I left the chaos of my j.o.b. to take on the JOBB. And suddenly, I find myself starting fresh in so many areas.

Here’s the thing: it was easier to be a beginner when we were younger, wasn’t it? No one expected us to have all the answers. But somewhere along the way the space to “not know” got smaller. Now, stepping into something new can feel intimidating—even shameful—because people assume we’ll just get it quickly.

I’ll never forget hearing author Jon Acuff say, “It’s okay to be a beginner.” Hearing that sentence was one thing. Believing it—and taking action on it—was something else entirely.

The truth? Being a beginner is good for us. It keeps us curious, it stretches us, and it literally changes our brains. Psychologist Carol Dweck calls this a “growth mindset.” I just call it proof that God designed us to keep growing, no matter our age.

Right now, I’m beginning in a lot of ways:

• Barbell back squats – Never thought I’d want to do them, but here I am, practicing weekly.

• Creating a planner – A dream I’ve carried for years, now taking shape with my business partner.

• Becoming a productivity coach – Helping women find time for what matters most is my jam, and now I’m stepping into it officially.

That’s a lot of beginnings.

And if I’m honest, it’s not always easy. Sometimes, when people ask me what a productivity coach does or how I’ll lead clients, I feel like I should have the perfect business plan ready to recite—even though it’s still in process. That voice of shame creeps in: “You should have it all figured out by now.”

But then I remember: I am a beginner. I don’t have to know it all yet. I’m just getting started. And that’s okay.

Because here’s the beautiful promise: God doesn’t necessarily call the equipped. He equips those He calls. “May He equip you with everything good for doing His will, and may He work in us what is pleasing to Him, through Jesus Christ.” (Hebrews 13:21, ESV)

Being a beginner doesn’t mean we’re failing. It means we’re learning. It means God is still shaping us.

Thomas Edison once said, “I have not failed. I have just learned 10,000 ways that won’t work.” What if we looked at our fresh starts that way—not as proof we’re unqualified, but as signs we’re growing?

So, friend—where might God be nudging you to step into the joy of beginning again? Maybe it’s a new hobby. Maybe it’s a dream you’ve carried in your heart for years.

I invite you to join me in the JOBB—the Joy of Being a Beginner. Because beginning again isn’t about proving what we know. It’s about discovering what He still wants to show us.

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