When the heirloom jewelry I saved for my son’s wedding was stolen, I grieved what was lost—then slowly began to release what I had clung to. Through the quiet practice of Swedish death cleaning, I discovered a gentler legacy: one that doesn’t live in things, but in love.
Read MoreIt started with two patio chairs and a beat-up orange stool. I wasn’t trying to redesign my life—I just needed a place to sit. But in moving those chairs to the east-facing porch, I unknowingly stepped away from five years of garden frustration and into something quieter, more sacred.
The garden I thought I was building was about growth. The one I actually built? It taught me how to rest.
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