This week I found myself in a standoff with a printer. It refused to join the WiFi network, and I was determined to make it comply. I followed troubleshooting steps, watched videos, clicked links, unplugged and restarted, downloaded apps, changed and reset settings, and before I knew it, I was deep in a tech rabbit hole that felt urgent and consuming.

At some point, I noticed how tense I had become. My shoulders were tight, lifted almost to my ears. My jaw was clenched. My patience was gone. What started as a simple task had quietly taken over my attention, my nervous system, and my entire morning. I was no longer trying to fix a printer; I was reacting, chasing solutions, and letting frustration set the pace. When I finally noticed what was happening in my body, I realized that whatever problem I was trying to solve wasn’t worth the cost. So I stopped. I walked away. I took a breath. And found my way back out of the hole, grateful that I had reclaimed myself in the process.

Life does this to us more often than we realize. We chase fixes, answers, clarity, or control, and suddenly we are far from where we started. We're weary and disconnected. Wisdom sometimes looks like persistence, but just as often it looks like knowing when to pause, step back, and remember who (and Whose) we are and what actually matters.

Whether it's a printer or something far heavier in our lives or in our world, it is easy to lose ourselves down the rabbit hole. We focus so hard on fixing the problem that we forget to notice what it's doing to us. When the stakes feel high, anger can feel justified, and dehumanizing our opponents can feel almost natural. But if we are unwilling to pray for their redemption and reconciliation, we have drifted from the full and challenging message of the faith we claim. Before we know it, tension has taken over, perspective has narrowed, and we are no longer grounded in what matters most.

We face big and serious issues in our world. There is no doubt about that. Faith invites us to stay present rather than panicked, engaged rather than consumed. It whispers that even in the middle of uncertainty, this is not the end of the story. Faith invites us to breathe, to remember who we are, and to choose faithfulness in the small, human ways still within our reach. Faith calls us back to ourselves, to our values, and to the quiet work of love that continues even now.

My wish for you this week, Reader, is that you will notice when your body and spirit are asking for pause, even in the midst of things that deeply matter. I hope you will stay engaged without letting urgency or anger consume you, and that you will tend to your breath, your perspective, and your humanity along the way. May you remember who and Whose you are, and may your faith keep drawing you toward prayer, compassion, and the steady work of love and reconciliation. That's the fiLLLed life.

Live a fiLLLed life, Melissa ​