Learning to Play

Last week I asked you how you played as a child — back when it came naturally, before you overthought it, before life got so serious.

I’d truly love to know what you discovered.

This week, I want to share what I remembered.

From ages 4–12, I lived in a very small town in Tennessee.

A dirt road. Few neighbors.

No other kids nearby.

Lots of pets. Woods, creeks, ponds, wildlife.

I was a country girl. Often barefoot. Always outside.

I played alone, using my imagination. I roamed. I explored. I climbed.

I built “houses” everywhere I went — Indian villages in the woods, mansions from fallen trees, rooms inside bushes, tiny towns tucked into the roots of great oak trees.

If I was stuck inside, I drew blueprints of my dream house and played “house” in my bedroom.

I loved to read — mythology, fairy tales, fantasy, historical fiction, biographies.

I loved God.

I loved magic.

And even then, I longed for deep connection.

When I look at my life now, I can see the roots of that little girl everywhere.

I still love being outside. Nature. Animals.

I love creating a warm, safe, inviting home.

I love cultivating deep, connected relationships.

I love being with people — and I also need a lot of alone time.

I love reading, learning, hiking, sitting on a beach and absorbing the awe of this one precious life.

But I can also get caught up in responsibility.

I can take on too much.

I can forget how to play.

How to enjoy.

How to stand in awe.

And this past year, walking through cancer treatment has reminded me in a very real way that tomorrow is not guaranteed.

---

So this year, as I’ve chosen my word to be gentle, I am choosing to gently and intentionally return to play.

Not as something frivolous.

But as something healing.

As I continue treatment, I am supporting my mind, body, and spirit by consciously remembering who I am and what I love.

Here’s part of my 2026 play list:

• Create a fairy garden to honor my love of magic

• Plant a terrarium to bring more beauty and nature into my home

• Start a book club to share reading and connection

• Tell my story — because I want to be known

• Organize and scrapbook photos for my children and grandchildren

• Play pickleball

• Turn our spare room into a quiet retreat for reading, prayer, and meditation

---

None of these are about achievement.

They are about aliveness.

Play reconnects us to ourselves.

It lowers stress.

It softens our nervous system.

It opens creativity.

It reminds us that we are more than our responsibilities.

Play is not childish.

It is soul medicine.

So now I’ll ask you again —

How did you play?

What did you love before the world told you to be productive?

What might it look like to gently welcome some of that back into your life this year?

I encourage you to remember.

To dream.

To make your own list.

Don’t delay.

Your presence is needed in this world — not just your productivity, but you.

And play is one of the ways you come home to yourself.

If you’d like, hit reply and share what you’re adding to your play list this year.

I would truly love to know.

With love,

Marcy