living in life's tiny moments


There's something about the way my birthday falls that always makes me incredibly reflective. The end of summer, the start of fall. A new school year, a new year in my life.

And each year, I set a secret intent in my mind. This is the year of...

Last year, I told myself it was the year of something big.

What did I think was going to happen? I have no idea. But I felt like I was on the cusp of something big. Something was just around the corner at 26 and I could feel it, inching closer and closer.


I laughed the other day when I thought about it, because it seems like nothing big happened this year when I glance over it quickly. How silly, I was, I thought at first.

But then I dug in and realized that something bigger than the big I'd imagined happened. Life happened. In tiny moments. In new friendships beginning and older ones going deeper. In growing closer with my siblings. In new homes and a new job. In a spontaneous phone call that has landed me on a plane to Africa in six weeks. In a shifting heart and little changes in my life.

No. These aren't big things at all. But, it turns out what 26 taught me is that life is lived in these small moments.


I tend to stress about the future. About the plan I laid when I was 18 that just isn't quite falling into place. My plan, my plan. But 26 has taught me that while my plan was lovely, this real one is better. I don't get to know what is next and I don't get to know the timeline for how things will happen. But I am learning that it doesn't really matter. Because this is life, right now. And it's meant to be seized.

I think we tend to treat our 20s like a stepping stone decade. It's between college and before real life. It's a formative time where we are laying groundwork for our future careers, the family we will one day have, the relationships we will create, the homes we will buy - everything that is big and bright ahead. And while the foresight and care for our futures are wonderful, I think we can get so wrapped up in them that we forget the right now. We forget to enjoy the moment and embrace this season of in between. 

Driving back from vacation Monday morning, Sam and I were riding in his car. We boarded the ferry in Deep Point and drove out of the city as the sun was coming up over the water. The sleepy town was quiet and dewy. Our music was low and slow and as I sipped my coffee and enjoyed the rest of the sweet town with Sam, I thought: this is going to be one of those moments. Those moments that I look back on and remember. Those moments that are perfect and peaceful and instantly nostalgic. They make my heart feel full and overwhelmed with love for the present; for the right now. These tiny, in between moments feel both significant and insignificant all at once and remind me that the future is exciting and the past is lovely, but the right now is oh-so sweet.

So on this final day of my 26th year, I can laugh when I realize nothing all that big happened at all. Or, I can look at these little moments, linked together like a strand of pearls and understand that they create something beautiful. And maybe that, in and of itself, is something big after all. 


be still // bibs at baldhead



You guys know what I'm really bad at? Being still. And you know who else is pretty bad at it? My family (no offense, guys). We're whirlwinders; plan makers; movers and shakers. Why walk when you can runners. 

But this weekend, something happened at Bald Head Island. 

We were still. 

Not in the physical sense, though. We didn't even lay on the beach. We played volleyball and chased the kids and dug holes. We raced in the sand and galloped because Finn knows how to do that now. We chased birds and watched Skippy dig until he hit water and found crabs.


But our hearts were still. Our minds were still. 

Bald Head has this peace about it. You take the ferry from Deep Point, NC, over to the island and then you lose service. The texts stop coming in and the phones stop ringing because there are no towers. Life is slower but not in the frustrating sense. In the I seriously needed this sense. 

The minute we boarded the ferry I took what felt like the deepest breath I've taken in months. It hit me: we're going on vacation and it's starting right now. It washed over me and I promise you my shoulders dropped an inch. 





God knew what he was doing while we were there, too. Because the internet in our house went out on Thursday night after a storm. And so did the cable. So we were just there. Just Bibers without cell service and without TV and without a computer. We were just people together. Just family together.




And you know what else? We had the slowest golf cart on the island. Seriously. So, really, we were just people together, in slow golf carts. We got passed all the time and we cracked up, joking about how if we got a house there, we'd remove our governors ASAP; upgrade these carts. But you know what? I think it was good for us. Because not only do we stink at being still, we also like to do everything fast. 


But this weekend we were forced to unplug, slow down and just be still. 

Hard questions for the weekend included: Should we go to the beach or pool? What should we have for dinner? Who is going running now (or walking form me this month)? Do you want to walk on the beach? What kind of iced coffee do you want? Are you riding in the blue or green golf cart? Does your bike have enough air in the tires?


I didn't wear makeup, or shoes, for that matter. I didn't even take a curling iron or blow dryer. I went from workout gear to my swimsuit to pajamas most days. 

And gosh, it felt so good. I came back Monday feeling like I'd just finished a yoga class. Relaxed. Recharged. Happy. I couldn't think of a better way to end the summer and my 26th year. 

My only raise the bars for next time on Old Baldy are: 
1. Ash+fam and Ryan to come (we missed you!)
2. I take my rollerblades. Because that island was made to blade, I tell ya.

I hope your Labor Day was as unlaborious as ours!