Lisa notes

On the Blog – February 2026

By LisaNotes February 28, 2026 Archives No Comments

Here are brief summaries and links to posts on the blog, Lisa notes, from February 2026.

Experimenting with a Shift in Pace (Share 4 Somethings) (2/28)
Here are my four somethings about slowing down, time tracking, friendship, and meaningful awareness.
How to Keep Your One Word of the Year From Fading (3 Simple Ways) (2/26)
Is your One Word of the Year fading in February? Try these 3 simple ways to reconnect and keep your word alive all year long.
This Is What He Remembers About Me? (Is It Still True?) (2/20)
My cousin remembered that? We can’t control which facts people remember about us. But maybe we can influence the sentiment.
When My Gift Is Trusting Your Decision: Keeping Two Cents in My Pocket (2/17)
Sometimes love means keeping your advice to yourself. A reflection on friendship, trust, and learning to witness rather than manage someone else’s decision.
What If This Moment Is Asking for a Different Pace? (2/11)
When plans fall apart, learning to shift your pace can change everything. My experience about flights, timing, and staying present.
This Month’s Must-Reads for Me: Stories, Connections, and Life Lessons—February 2026 Book Recommendations (2/5)
Here are my must-read books this month. They’re filled with wisdom, intriguing stories, and lessons on love, connection, and personal growth.

Experimenting with a Shift in Pace (Share 4 Somethings)
—Share Four Somethings February 2026

I’ve been experimenting this month with my One Word—Shift—in a slightly different direction: pace.

Not doing less or doing more, necessarily, but adjusting the speed—faster or slower—where it felt possible. Paying attention to the rhythm of my days. Speeding up things that didn’t need dragging out. Slowing down things that deserved to be stretched.

I’m also sharing my last month’s One Second Everyday video.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

1. Something I Loved

“Name One” Brunch

Last weekend we hosted a brunch for the families of our book club participants. I see the women every week, but not their kids and partners. It’s always fun to expand the circle.

Everyone brought one item that represented something about themselves—and a story to go along with it. We played a fast word game Blank Slate and shared a photo from our phones that made us smile.

It felt enriching to have all morning to shift our pace, lingering over stories and really noticing each other. It helped us see how the unique things about each person are also the very things that bring us together.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

2. Something Sustaining Me

A Colorado Weekend Retreat

At the beginning of the month, I spent a fantastic weekend in Colorado with a few online friends who are now in-person friends.

Our two hosts thoughtfully planned meaningful activities for each day, allowing plenty of breathing space in between for casual conversations or quiet solitude.

On the final night, we made a gorgeous mandala from objects we’d been creating throughout the weekend—such a slow, rich closing to an intimate weekend of treasured community.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

3. Something Carrying Me Forward

Time Tracking for a Week

Once every year or so, I keep a time log for one week, thanks to Laura Vanderkam’s enthusiastic recommendation and annual challenge. This year I chose a week in February to track my time.

It’s a little bit of a hassle, but using the wonderful Toggl app makes it almost fun. And definitely quicker than keeping up with it by hand.

At the end of the week, I was curious (and slightly nervous) to see the breakdown of how I spent my hours. Toggl provides you with wonderful charts of your week.

As expected for anybody, sleep was my largest category (53 hours).

The big surprise (to me, maybe not to my husband?) was what came in second: reading in bed, clocking in at 9.5 hours for that week—mostly centered around 6am and 9:30pm. Those bookends of the day are some of my favorite slow times to read without looking at the clock.

I don’t use time tracking to pass judgment on how I spend my time, but rather to notice my rhythms and pace, and figure out any adjustments I’d like to make going forward.

As with most things, shifts often start with awareness.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

4. Something I’m Making Space For

The Alabama Solution

My husband and I spent a Sunday afternoon at our local public library to watch The Alabama Solution (you can also watch it on HBO).

It’s a sobering documentary (it received an Academy Award nomination!) about the deadly abuses inside Alabama’s prison system.

Watch the 2-minute trailer here.

It felt slow. And hard. But important to witness.

Part of shifting my pace this month meant sticking with uncomfortable things, if they were also valuable things. This film fit that category.

Other than contacting state officials, there’s not much I can do about the problem, but I can at least stay informed. And that is something.

—

This month reminded me that shifts don’t have to be drastic to be meaningful. They can happen around a brunch table. In the mountains. In a spreadsheet of hours. With a community watching something hard.

All at a human pace.

A Question for You:

Where would you like to slow down—or speed up—this week?

Share your thoughts in the comments.

I’m linking at these blog parties

How to Keep Your One Word of the Year From Fading (3 Simple Ways)
{One Word 2026 February Linkup}

By LisaNotes February 26, 2026 One Word Community, Shift: One Word 2026 17 Comments

Is Your One Word Still With You?

By the end of February, statistics say that most people who made New Year’s resolutions have let them go.

But a One Word feels different to me. Maybe because it’s not a checklist but more of a relationship.

If you still remember your word, you’ve not fallen behind. Even small reconnections matter.

For some ideas to work on the relationship with your One Word (or just any theme that’s been popping up in your life lately), try these three suggestions.

1. Something to Hear

Find a song with your word in the title or lyrics. Add it to a playlist you already use (or create a new one just for your word). Play it in the car or at home while you’re making dinner or folding laundry.

Extra credit: Compose your own verse to go with the song.

I created a new playlist with 20 songs for my word SHIFT. While I couldn’t find many songs with Shift in the title that I liked (other than The Commodores’ “Nightshift”) I did find a LOT of great songs about change, many from the Civil Rights era of the 1960s and 1970s, which feels particularly relevant again in the U.S.

“I’m starting with the man in the mirrorI’m asking him to change his waysAnd no message could have been any clearerIf you wanna make the world a better placeTake a look at yourself and then make a change”
– chorus from “Man in the Mirror” by Michael Jackson

2. Something to Say

Find a short quote, poem, scripture, or paragraph connected to your word. Print it. Tape it near your bathroom mirror.

Read it out loud once a day for a week or so. There’s something powerful about hearing your own voice say your word.

Not intentionally, but I’ve noticed that I use the word Shift a lot more in my everyday conversation this year, often instead of “change.” Shift just feels a little softer to me.

“A miracle is a shift in perception from fear to love.”
– from A Course in Miracles

3. Something to See

Maybe you placed your word somewhere visible in January. Now move it to some place new.

Put it on a sticky note on your laptop. Change your phone wallpaper. Write it on a card and tuck it into your wallet.

Or try this: take one photo a day of something that represents your word. It trains your eyes to look for it. And what we look for, we begin to find.

Here are 3 photos from my camera roll last week about Shifts.

An evening out to meet the wonderful Tyler Merritt, who is shifting the world to be more kind and hopeful

Writing postcards to shift legislators’ agendas so they’ll make our schools safer

Shifting our book club by adding in another friend

From Idea to Reality

The more you involve your senses with your One Word—hearing it, saying it, seeing it—the more your word moves from idea to reality.

It doesn’t have to be anything dramatic. Just simple connections.

The February One Word Linkup Is Open

The linkup is now open from February 26 – March 12 for your One Word blog updates.

Or share in the comments. What’s going well with your word? Where are you struggling with it?

I’ll be highlighting each blog post from the February linkup in our Facebook group over the next few weeks. Our next linkup opens March 26.

If your word feels like it’s fading a little, this is your invitation to brighten it back up.

Question for you:
What is one small way you can reconnect with your word (or monthly theme) this week—through something you hear, say, or see?

Share your thoughts about your One Word or monthly theme in the comments.

If you’d like to receive our monthly One Word emails and ideas for 2026, join here.

- Get more One Word ideas here

Link Up About Your One Word

This Is What He Remembers About Me? (Is It Still True?)

By LisaNotes February 20, 2026 Encouragement, My stories 11 Comments

Long Time, No See

Jeff and I walk into the funeral home in Mississippi. I spot my cousin Mike immediately. He’s four years older than me and has always been much taller than me.

Mike and I haven’t seen each other in years. But I would recognize him anywhere. On this day we’re here together because his dad—my uncle—died a few days earlier.

Mike and I hug. Then we sit on the couch in the lobby to talk.

That’s when Mike says the oddest thing to me:

“You know what always ticked me off about you?”

I have no idea what is coming next.

I respond:

“I have no idea, Mike. Tell me.”

2022

What I Remember About Mike

Looking back, I remember three things about my cousin Mike as a kid:

Mike had an incredible memory for historical trivia
He made funny, clever jokes
He wore the thickest eyeglasses I’d ever seen.

At some age I finally realized why Mike wore such thick glasses.

Mike was born with a sight disorder that caused deteriorating vision.

As much as Mike was treasured by his family members, I somehow understood that the outside world was not as kind to him. Children don’t always respect those who are different.

And Mike was special. I remember that.

1972

But to me, Mike was different in a good way.
He was intelligent.
He was witty.
He was fun.

As an adult, Mike chose a career serving other members of the seeing impaired community through the Alabama Public Library system.

And after 35 years of good service, Mike retired.

This Is What Mike Remembered

Back at the funeral home, I ask Mike what it was he remembered about me.

Mike says, “The thing I remember about you as a kid is you never liked your food to touch. That really ticked me off.”

Whew. I laugh. That’s what Mike remembers.

We chat some more. We attend the beautiful ceremony honoring my uncle. We gather at the cemetery near my grandparents’ country church for the burial. Then we all lunch on a delicious spread provided by the family’s church friends in the fellowship hall.

Mike and I eat at different tables.

Before I take my last few bites, though, I need to do one more thing.

I need to find Mike’s table.

I need to show him my plate. As an adult. Not a kid.

Is what Mike remembered about me still accurate? I let him decide.

On my plate, there is no distinct line between the corn and the peas, but neither are they jumbled up together. The chicken may have rubbed against the potato salad, but not enough to blend together.

My food now touches a little. But still not a lot.

Mike and I both laugh about it.

We can’t always control which facts people will remember about us. But maybe we can influence the sentiment.

What I remember most about Mike is how he made me smile.

And he still does.

What does your family remember about you as a child? Share in the comments.

revised from the archives

When My Gift Is Trusting Your Decision: Keeping Two Cents in My Pocket

By LisaNotes February 17, 2026 Personal Growth, Relationships, Trust 14 Comments

The Longing for Something Else

Our friend has been wanting to move for a long time.

She’s been unhappy in her neighborhood. Restless. Disturbed. Ready for something quieter, greener, and more spacious. But her options have been limited.

So when she told us last December that a perfect opportunity had opened up, we were excited for her. A friend had offered her an empty room in the country with a beautiful view and calm surroundings.

She was thrilled.

And we were happy for her.

But also heartbroken for ourselves. Because we knew what it likely meant: we would probably never see her again.

The Goodbye That Wasn’t

A few weeks ago, on a Monday afternoon, we said our teary goodbyes. It felt heavy and final. We were grateful for our years-long friendship but already grieving the loss to come.

Then the next Monday, when we went back to her apartment complex, our friend was still there.

And the next Monday.

And the next.

Of course we were thrilled for ourselves. But also confused.

She didn’t offer many details. Just that she was waiting. Making sure. Trying to discern whether it was truly the right move.

And that’s when the real work began for us.

The Hard Work of Staying Quiet

The hard work is not prodding her, encouraging her to make the “right” decision to move while she can.

It would be so easy to:

Say what we would do
Point out the obvious benefits
Tell her she’d be crazy not to take the opportunity

It takes discernment to know when to speak up and when to be quiet. Sometimes our advice is sound and proper to offer.

But in this case, with this friend, our advice is not what she needs. It’s our respect.

She is older than we are. Wiser. A survivor of trials we don’t even know about. She knows her own mind and is fully capable of making her own decisions.

Our advice wouldn’t actually help her.

It would only help us feel helpful.

When Helping Means Stepping Back

Sometimes helping means stepping back.

Sometimes love looks like keeping your two cents in your own pocket.

Sometimes the most generous thing you can offer another person is trust.

Trust that they don’t need your fixing.
Trust that their timing is not yours to control.
Trust that they know what is right for themselves.

I recently came across these words that Parker Palmer published ten years ago. But the sentiments are evergreen:

“Here’s the deal. The human soul doesn’t want to be advised or fixed or saved. It simply wants to be witnessed — to be seen, heard and companioned exactly as it is.

When we make that kind of deep bow to the soul of a suffering person, our respect reinforces the soul’s healing resources, the only resources that can help the sufferer make it through.”

– Parker Palmer, The Gift of Presence, The Perils of Advice

Witnessing. Not advising.

Therein lies our gift.

If She’s Still There on Monday

So next Monday, when we return to our friend’s neighborhood, if she is still there—still waiting, still discerning, still undecided—I hope we’ll simply be glad to see her again.

No hinting.
No nudging.
No advising, even out of concern.

Just presence. And delight. And the gift of saying, without words, “We trust you.”

And big hugs all around.

A Question for You:

Sometimes our advice is welcomed and needed. Other times, we need to keep our two cents in our own pocket. How do you discern the difference?

I’d love to hear your wisdom in the comments.

What If This Moment Is Asking for a Different Pace?

By LisaNotes February 11, 2026 Personal Growth, Shift: One Word 2026 18 Comments

When Time Feels Manageable

I begin the morning relaxed. I have ample margin built into my schedule—a gift of breathing room to myself. No rushing. No tight deadlines. I’ll arrive at the airport early, sharing an Uber with my friend whose flight leaves a full two hours before mine.

Everything feels calm. Manageable. Under control.

My flight back home is scheduled for 3:15 p.m. I’ll land in Dallas at 6:20, with a comfortable one hour and twenty minutes layover before my final flight home. Plenty of time.

Until the dings begin.

The Dings That Change Things

Ding.

A text from American Airlines. My flight to Dallas is delayed by 15 minutes.

I don’t mind. I’ll still have an hour to get to the next gate once I arrive in Dallas. No biggie.

Ding.

New departure time: 4:00 p.m. Arrival in Dallas: 7:05.

My stomach tightens a little. Now I’ll have to run when I get there. I begin shifting to a hurry mindset.

Ding.

Departure pushed to 5:05 p.m. This won’t work at all . . . except my connecting flight is also delayed. It’ll still be close. Still tense. Still possible—but barely.

Ding.

Really? Now I’ll leave at 5:30 p.m.

I talk to customer service at the airport. They tell me to keep my flight to Dallas and hope for the best. Hope feels wobbly, but it’s all I have.

When Hope Runs Out

Ding.

5:57 p.m.

Ding.

6:24 p.m.

Ding.

The seventh delay seems like a final verdict: 7:07 p.m.

I’m done.

This time, I know I’ll miss my connecting flight.

And then—something unexpected happens.

An Experiment with Pace

My February theme I’ve chosen for my One Word Shift is Pace.

Specifically, I want to honor the pace this moment requires. I pull forward the tangible representation from my One Word jar: my deceased aunt’s old watch—a reminder that time is more relative than we realize.

Sometimes altering my pace means I slow down. Intentionally. I’m trying to stop rushing when when rushing isn’t necessary.

Other times, it means I speed up—not letting something linger longer than it needs to.

Like writing this blog post.

I decided to see how quickly I could put it together.

As it turns out: not as fast as I wanted. But also, not as long as it could have taken.

The Moment Everything Softens

Back at the airport, once I know that I won’t make it home tonight, my jitters disappear.

When rushing was no longer an option, something in me finally softened.

The delay is so large that I’m back to having plenty of time again.

The mental math stops. The frantic inner voice quiets down. I’m no longer in rush mode, because there is no rushing something out of my control.

And somehow . . . that’s freeing.

Waiting Is Okay

I finally arrive in Dallas at 10:30 p.m.

I shift back into slow mode.

Waiting for customer service.
Waiting for the shuttle.
Waiting in line at the hotel that night (compliments of American Airlines).

By midnight, I’m in a bed. And by morning, I’m on a new flight home at a leisurely 10:30 a.m.

The Real Shift

Experimenting with pace has been interesting. I’m learning that while physical shifts matter, for me the mental shifts matter more.

Timing isn’t always within our control. But knowing when to slow down and when to speed up is helping me better live in the moment I’m actually in—not the one I’m racing toward or the one I’m trying to resist.

Timing isn’t always within our control—but our pace still is.

As it turns out, staying present here is the sweetest time of all.

When have you had to speed up lately? Slow down? I’d love to hear in the comments.