Tendrils of water slipped through my fingers as I swam and splashed through the St. Lawrence River every summer before I turned sixteen.

I remember the way the sunlight fluttered across the navy blue water. It was not the bright blue lagoon colour of how I imagine a Miami beach would be, but more like a gentle dark hue of a mermaid cave.

It was always on August 1st that I would have this realization that summer was half-over. My stomach would sink, but there are so many more things I could do before school starts again!

And strangely enough, I was always a little happy when school did start — the bright colours of Crayola boxes lining grocery store fronts, the buzz of excitement to learn something new and see old friends again.

It’s funny how August 1st always carried a little sadness when I was a kid.

This year, though, I was a little relieved to say goodbye to July.

The beginning of the month found my husband recovering from a mild case of Shingles (he’s pretty young for it, though I’ve heard of even younger cases). The middle brought me to the pharmacy for antibiotics. And the end of the month made my husband’s heart quite literally jump.

Right before we were about to go to bed on what felt like such a random Wednesday night, Peter suddenly said, “Woah my heart feels weird”. He sat down on the couch and I put a hand to his chest, feeling the same worry I saw written on his face.

It was definitely pumping abnormally.

He laid face-down on the couch and said he just needed a few minutes.

Meanwhile, was asking Google/Gemini: “how long should you wait to call the doctor with a fast heartbeat?” (probably not the most useful question, but it was the first thing that came to mind).

It told me to do the FAST check — Face, Arms, Speech, Time — to rule out a stroke. He passed the test, but his hands were getting tingly. We decided it was time to call 112 (the European equivalent of 911).

Back in August 2021, Peter had to call 112 for me. Now it was my turn.

I explained the situation, thankful that Peter could still talk and seemed to be okay.

The paramedics trudged up the stairs to our apartment since the elevator decided to call it quits that day.

After the medics ran a few tests on Peter, he began to feel well enough to stand and walk to the ambulance (a very good sign!).

(Side note: the paramedics didn’t explain what they were doing at first—not sure if it was because of the language barrier or because of culture—but both Peter and I were a bit scared because thought they were going to do some sort of defibrillation or something lol)

As Peter was transported to the hospital, I stayed behind with our son because he was sleeping, and did one of the things I do best: worried 😆. I then had to talk myself out of catastrophizing because things are always in God’s hands, and he always takes care of us even in the hard times! (Can I get an Amen?! Lol.)

The doctor at the hospital discovered that Peter was having an episode of Atrial Fibrillation, or AFib — an irregular heartbeat. They gave him medication and electrolytes through two IV drips over a few hours, and then he was fine. (Though sleep-deprived, since this all unfolded between about midnight and 6am.)

He still needs to see a specialist to find out if there are any larger issues he needs to be concerned about, but for now he’s doing well.

This seems maybe a rather dull ending to the story, but I really prefer dull to dead lol.

Our July was too full of sickness for my liking, but it also produced a compassion and empathy in me towards those who have to be in and out of clinics and hospitals their entire life. I pray for those families, that God would give them strength. 🙏

I have never felt the verses about suffering to ring more true than now:

“Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”

— Romans 5:3–5 (NIV)

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

— 2 Corinthians 1:3–4 (NIV)

It is in our suffering that we can relate and connect with one another.
It is in our suffering that we learn to truly see one another.

Needless to say, I did not get much writing done this month.

To be honest, I was wondering if I should even bother with my Substack anymore, or if I should keep writing. But I don’t want to quit, especially because I’ve already walked away from so many other creative endeavours. This time, I want to stay.

Yet I still wonder to myself, is there a pace of writing that is sustainable for me, and for my audience?

Then, just yesterday, I finished listening to a podcast where the host interviewed the popular YouTube workout creator GrowWithJo (Joanna Sophia). She recently hit 1 billion views on her workouts and shares openly about her journey, her Christian faith, and her philosophy on consistency.

She literally says, “Consistency looks different for different seasons of life”.

LISTEN UP:

“Consistency👏 looks👏 different 👏for different 👏seasons of life👏”.

Wooh! Well that took a load off my back. That doesn’t mean I don’t commit to being consistent. It means I just have to be open to changing my consistency level from time to time.

It’s not permission to give up on consistency, but rather freedom to let consistency flex according to the season.

As I pushed my son around our apartment in his stroller, hoping he’d fall asleep for his nap, I decided on a new rhythm to try:

• A post on Instagram once a week
• A Substack post twice a month 
• A blog post here once a month — a life update and a look at what I’ve been working on creatively

I’m writing this here partly as an accountability measure. No one is going to check in and ask “hey, how’s that consistency going?” — but I will look back on this. And there’s something about putting a commitment in writing that makes it feel real.

If you haven’t had a chance to explore my Substack series “The Line Between,” a few recent pieces are linked below.

To July: thank you. For teaching me as a child that summers can be full of magic and wonder. And for teaching me this year that it’s okay to be glad it is over. As “GrowWithJo” reminded me, there is a season for everything. And I praise God for that.

Thank you for reading ❤️
Sending love from Tbilisi 🫶

THE LINE BETWEEN SERIES (On Substack)👇

The Line Between Peacemaking and Peacekeeping — On knowing your battles, and when to lay them down

The Line Between Self-Care and Selfishness — On having boundaries with yourself, and letting God meet you in the stillness

The Line Between Working Hard and Burning Out — On knowing your limits and letting God meet you there

The Line Between Being Manipulative and Being Firm — On spotting manipulation, holding boundaries, and the grace required for both

The Line Between Saving Grace and “Saving Works” — On legalism, cheap grace, and the freedom in between