Some people meditate. Some people journal. I… meal plan. Which sounds about as thrilling as alphabetizing soup cans, but hear me out. There’s a certain beauty in staring at a blank week and deciding what future me will eat. It’s gratitude disguised as structure, tacos disguised as prayer.

There was a season when 5:30 p.m. meant standing in front of the fridge like it held the secrets of the universe. Half a jar of pickles. A suspicious block of cheese. Maybe eggs, maybe not. Dinner was more panic than poetry. Then I discovered Plan to Eat. And suddenly, the chaos had a rhythm. My recipes weren’t just scraps of paper or screenshots lost in my phone; they were part of a bigger story. A drag-and-drop plan that whispered, I’ve got you. Fewer wasted groceries. Less stress-tears over “what’s for dinner?” And, honestly, more joy at the table because I wasn’t exhausted before we even sat down.

Meal planning isn’t about perfection. It’s about intention. It’s choosing to notice the small, ordinary days and say: feeding my family matters, feeding myself matters, these weeknight rhythms matter. It’s a way of being grateful in advance for the meals, for the people, for the life we’re building one dinner at a time. So here’s the question I’m sitting with: What can you do this week to be more appreciative and intentional? It doesn’t have to be dramatic. Maybe it’s a plan for your meals. Maybe it’s blocking off time for a walk. Maybe it’s a post-it note reminding you that your ordinary life is worthy of care.

Appreciation doesn’t always come wrapped in fireworks. Sometimes it comes in a grocery list, a little less waste, and a table where you’re present enough to taste the grace in front of you.

Gracefully yours,

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Reference
Niequist, S. (2024). Celebrate Every Day. Zondervan.