A Quiet Hinge: January 1, 2026

January 1 has a way of asking something of us, whether we want it to or not.

It is a day set apart across cultures and calendars. A quiet hinge between what has been and what has not yet taken shape. A moment that invites reflection, intention, and hope all at once. We welcome that invitation.

We enter 2026 grateful, attentive, and genuinely excited. Not because we expect the year to unfold perfectly according to plan, but because we trust that what lies ahead will be full of meaningful experiences that continue to shape us in ways worth receiving. We make our plans with care and hold them with open hands.

This week finds us in Dallas, Texas. On January 31, we leave for Tenerife, but first, a month of new and familiar rhythms here.

Home-cooked meals, fire pits, and family gatherings. Workdays finding their cadence again. Long walks through the neighborhood, along the Katy Trail, and White Rock Lake. Joining a local gym. Taking a long drive down memory lane, revisiting old stomping grounds. Discovering a coffee shop that already calls us back. And lingering over great pizza in a beer garden.

Being here at the beginning of a new year naturally invites reflection.

Looking back on 2025, it was a year we did not expect. It became the space between our life in Seattle and the nomadic life now taking shape. A full year in Reno, Nevada. A city we approached with curiosity and modest expectations, and one that quietly gave us far more than anticipated.

It was in Reno that the idea of a nomadic life took form. Where Some Great Place moved from concept to practice. Where we began the discipline of learning how to create, document, and tell our story with care. We spent time thinking seriously about planning, preparedness, and transition. About what it means to leave well and arrive thoughtfully.

Reno deepened our sense of place even as it clarified our near-term calling beyond it. That year did not distract us from what was ahead. It prepared us for it.

For a fuller reflection on that chapter, we shared a dedicated farewell to Reno here.

Across time and place, cultures have paired endings and beginnings for a reason.

Reflection without hope can turn inward and brittle. Hope without reflection becomes weightless. New Year's Day binds the two together. It asks us to remember honestly, to anticipate faithfully what is being formed over time, and to resist the temptation to reinvent ourselves every twelve months as if formation were instantaneous.

This rhythm matters. Especially in a world that rewards speed over depth and novelty over continuity.

A well-lived year is rarely built on dramatic reinvention. More often, it is shaped by faithful attention to what is already before us. By tending what is good. By correcting what is misaligned. By letting go of what no longer serves its purpose.

As we look ahead to 2026, we find it helpful to name a few intentions plainly.

What we want to maintain: The practices that have anchored our days. A commitment to living locally in places rather than simply consuming them. Unhurried mornings. Gym routines and local walks. Thoughtful work. Nourishing food. Time set aside for fellowship and reflection. These rhythms have served us well, and we intend to protect them.

What we want to improve: Margin. Patience. Presence. There were moments when we rushed ahead of ourselves, eager for the next chapter before fully inhabiting the one we were in. In the year ahead, we want to practice staying where our feet are, embracing the present moment and listening carefully to what we are being called toward. We also want to continue growing in the craft of content creation, learning to capture moments with greater clarity.

What we want to cut: Unnecessary noise. The subtle pressure to document, optimize, or explain everything. Some things are meant to be lived quietly, without extraction. We also want to be more intentional about spending, seeking a balanced approach that supports sustainability and generosity.

These are not resolutions. They are orientations. Plans made in good faith, knowing they will adapt as the year takes shape.

Pizza in an outdoor beer garden on a warm, sunny December day at Fortunate Son in downtown Garland. The kind of afternoon that lingers longer than planned.

Excellent flat whites enjoyed on the patio at Foxtrot on Knox Street. A neighborhood café and convenience shop offering thoughtfully curated groceries, local products, and coffee sourced from nearby roasters. An easy place to return to.

New Year's Eve followed in a joyful key. An evening at home with family. Steak cooked on the grill. A good bottle of wine and champagne opened in celebration. Games around the table. A movie shared together as the night wound down. Nothing extravagant. Just unhurried time, well spent.

New Year's Day has always been a brunch day for us. A table worth lingering over. Meals that carry memory. Flavors that remind us we are held within something larger than our own momentum. There is comfort in returning to what nourishes, especially on a day so often framed around becoming something new.

In that spirit, sufficiency is worth celebrating.

This week’s images are drawn from lived moments. Coffee stops, daily movement, good food, and family gatherings. The texture of days spent paying attention while passing through. Small moments that make up life on the move.

Living local is the balance between the old and the new, expanding outward while returning often enough for places to become familiar.

See More visual stories in our Instagram highlights »

In the days ahead, we plan to continue reacquainting ourselves with Dallas beyond our daily routines.

We are curious about what we will find at the Dallas Farmers Market this time of year, and looking forward to wandering Trinity Groves, returning to the Dallas Museum of Art, and spending time in the AT&T Discovery District. Not a checklist to complete, but an invitation to move through the city with intention, encountering what presents itself as the year opens before us.

We enter 2026 hopeful.

Hopeful not because the path ahead is certain, but because it is meaningful. We are excited for the changes this year will bring, even as we acknowledge that our understanding of them is incomplete. We believe God is at work in ways both seen and unseen, and we are grateful to participate, even imperfectly, in what unfolds.

If you are beginning this year with anticipation, with questions, or with a quiet sense that something new is forming at the edges of your life, we are glad you are here. This newsletter exists to pay attention together, to live attentively and locally, wherever we find ourselves.

Here's to a year approached with gratitude, intention, and open hands.

Until next week,
S&S

Some Great Place
Living local in a global world