The Quiet Comfort of Reliability

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve craved routines.
I’ve always loved predictability, the quiet comfort of knowing what comes next.

As a teacher, I used to post our daily schedule on the board.
When I taught Preschool and Kindergarten, I used pictures to guide the children through the day. When I taught older students, the pictures turned into simple words. Math. Reading. Writing.

No matter their age, I found a way to bring a sense of order and predictability into our day.

If I’m being honest, I first started doing it so I wouldn’t hear, “What are we doing next?” all day long!

But over time, I realized it was doing something much more important.
It created a sense of calm. It helped everyone feel grounded.
It created safety through predictability.

When I taught fifth grade, one of my students said something that has stayed with me for over 30 years. She said, “Kids need rules. It makes us feel safe.”

I remember pausing, struck by how clearly she understood something so important.
Even children know that when life has rhythm and consistency, it feels more secure.

Routine isn’t just about structure.
It’s about feeling a sense of safety.

And maybe that matters even more now.

Because as adults, we know that life doesn’t always feel predictable.
Sometimes, it feels anything but.

So, I’ve realized something.
When life around us feels uncertain, we often have to create calm within ourselves.

For me, that begins with a walk each morning.

In April, I found myself intentionally looking for the awe in everyday moments. I even started calling it “Awe-some April,” a simple reminder to notice the good around me.

I began timing my walks with the sunrise. There’s a golf course about a mile and a half from my home, and each morning I would plan my steps so I could arrive just as the sun began to rise.

Along the way, I started noticing more.
The different shades of green in the lawns.
The sound of birds singing when I took out my earbuds.
The simple act of stopping to smell the flowers.

And every single day, the sun rose.

No matter the weather.
No matter the clouds.
Whether the sky was bright blue or soft gray, the sun always made its way to us.

There was something deeply comforting about that, something steady I could count on.

I had so much joy in that simple practice that I decided to carry it forward.
April became a month of noticing, and now I’m calling this month “Miracle May,” a time to look at life through that same lens and see the everyday as something extraordinary.

There’s a quote often attributed to Albert Einstein that says:
“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”

We all must move through this world one way or another. I’m choosing to move through it by noticing what is steady, what I can return to, what quietly shows up each day.

Because those small, reliable moments create something bigger.

They create calm.
They create hope.

So each morning, I give myself a gift. A routine I can count on. A way to begin again.

And a reminder that no matter what clouds might be present in my own life, I can choose to look for the light - to notice the small, steady, hopeful things that show up each day - just like the sun does.