Every year around mid-June, a shift occurs in my home. The rigid machinery of the school calendar stops, replaced by the looser rhythm of summer. For nine months out of the year, our lives are governed by strict schedules. Alarm clocks ring at dawn, lunches are packed, and bedtimes are enforced to keep everyone functioning. But when summer arrives, we finally get to set the schedules aside.

With kids now aged 16 and 12, our family routine does not just shift; it gets completely mixed up. Gone are the days of structured summer camps that match school hours. Instead, we enter a landscape of teenager and tween schedules—a patchwork of late nights, irregular sports practices, social gatherings, and independent project streaks that defy the clock. We lose the stability of repetition. Yet, in that loss, we find something life-giving: a slight, unmistakable ease in our step. We get to wake up later, and we don’t have to worry about bedtime quite so much.

The Discomfort of the Unraveled Routine

We often say life is a journey rather than a destination. Journeys require us to step out of our well-worn grooves. But let’s be honest: human beings love a routine. There is comfort in knowing exactly what comes next. Routines offer a form of protection against the unpredictability of the world. When we know what’s coming, our minds can rest.

When summer upends that structure, the transition can feel uncomfortable. For a parent, navigating the blurred boundaries of 16 and 12 in the summer requires a high tolerance for ambiguity. There are moments when the house feels chaotic. In our covenant to support one another in spiritual growth, we must acknowledge that growth rarely feels comfortable in the moment. Like physical growing pains, structural change in our daily lives stretches us in ways that can leave us feeling exposed and untethered. Change often means a reduction in immediate comfort, but it is exactly where our growth happens.

The Gift of the Slackened Reins

But if we can work through the initial discomfort of losing our routine, we begin to notice the gifts that come with it. Recently, there was no frantic shouting about missing shoes or impending bus schedules. Instead, there was a slow, quiet house.  Owen (16) sat at the dining table mid-morning, completely unhurried. We talked about nothing in particular for ten minutes. That’s about 9.5 minutes longer than our routine table talk.  In the winter, it’s so hard to make that happen. In the summer, it is a gift.

Similarly, lifting the bedtime mandate allows for a different kind of connection with Annabelle (12). The evening hours of summer possess a unique feeling. As we get into the bedtime routine, conversations deepen. Without the looming shadow of the next morning’s school bell, we can be silly, read together for longer, rub feet for 10 more minutes. These are the moments where our faith comes alive—not inside rigid structure, but in the spacious, unscheduled margins of our days.

Growth in the Margins

Our UU values call us to respect the interdependent web of all existence, and to affirm the inherent worth and dignity of every person. To live out these principles within our own families, we need time. When we allow our routines to change, we are practicing a form of spiritual trust. We are trusting that we can survive without the armor of our schedules. We are trusting that our relationships are strong enough to hold us when the external structures drop away.

This summer, I invite you to lean into the discomfort of the changed routine. Notice the slight ease in your step. Allow yourself, your children, or your friends the grace of a loose thread. Let the clock lose its power for a few hours. When the day feels mixed up, or when the loss of repetition makes you anxious, take a deep breath and look for the growth. 

– Will Jernigan

UU Asheville Board Member and Vice President