The Lost Art of Showing Up

I think one of the saddest things we've lost is the art of making people feel truly seen.

Not because we don't care anymore. I truly don't believe that for a second. I think we still care, but I also just think we're tired.

Life moves so incredibly fast for all of us. Some of us are juggling work, others kids, most of us appointments, errands, laundry, dishes, deadlines. And even some of us are juggling them all. And its tough.

Before we know it, showing up for the people we love becomes another thing on the checklist. We send the text because we meant to call. We order whatever will arrive tomorrow between 7-11 AM because we ran out of time. We tell ourselves we'll write the note next time, but next time somehow becomes next next time.

Little by little, thoughtfulness starts looking a lot like convenience. I've sure caught myself doing it too (way more often than I care to admit).

And it's never been because we love people less, but it's because we're all trying so hard to just keep up.

In our current age, practically anything can be ordered in seconds and delivered by dinnertime. Birthdays are calendar notifications, and sympathy flowers can be anywhere with just a few clicks. Most sentiments fit into a gift bag picked up on the way to the party.

We've never had more ways to send something, but somehow, it seems as though so many of us have never felt more unseen. That doesn’t sit right with me.

Especially because the greatest gifts are never really been about the gift. They’re almost always about what they say: "I noticed you,” or "I remembered."

Some of the most meaningful things I've ever received were handwritten notes tucked into a card because there just wasn’t enough space. A meal left on my doorstep because I was a new mom nap-trapped under a baby who finally, finally fell asleep. A friend who remembered something I mentioned months before in passing that even I’d forgotten.

Those are the things we keep. The Offerings that make us feel kept.

Not only because they're beautiful in their own unique way, but because they remind us we’re loved.

If I'm honest, I don't think The Kept Offering Co. really started when I filed paperwork that got many levels of government involved. I don’t even think it started when I finalized the launch collection…I think it started many years ago as a quiet, little idea that God continued placing on my heart.

Every now and again it would come back around. Usually while wrapping a birthday or Christmas present. Maybe if I was putting together a care package, or searching high and low for what felt like the right little something for someone I loved. Sometimes when chatting about gift-giving being my love language. Most often when I realized I had friends let me know something I gave them made them feel really special and ask if I’d help them put together something for their sister, or coworker or neighbor. And I'd think, Wouldn't it be kind of cool if this became something bigger someday?

Then life would get…busy again.

But after my oldest son was born, something really shifted.

Postpartum has a really funny way of stripping life down and forcing you to evaluate what truly matters.

I still remember the meals left on our porch, and the few friends who checked in just to ask how I was doing. The people who offered to do my dishes or my laundry so I would only have to focus on cuddling my baby. The ones who brought coffee without asking, remembered the little things, and somehow made me feel less isolated during one of the biggest transitions of my life.

It wasn't the gifts themselves that stayed with me! It was what they communicated: “You don't have to do it all alone.”

That season changed me, completely and not because it was easy. But because it reminded me what community feels like. It reminded me that the smallest acts of love are what become the biggest ones in someone's memory. And I remember sitting there with a newborn on my chest swearing I would be that person for someone else.

I don't really believe in New Year's resolutions, but I believe with my whole heart in becoming the person you needed last year for someone else this year.

If someone showed up for you, keep that kindness moving.

If someone made you feel seen, become someone who notices.

If you know what it feels like to be lonely, become the person who knocks on the door.

No one deserves to feel like they're carrying life alone, and I believe God designed us to belong to one another.

And maybe that’s what led me here. Maybe that's why this small business refused to leave me alone.

I could have quietly listed products and hoped people found them, but that was never the dream, I don’t think.

I think the dream was always community. A little corner of the internet where people who still believe in handwritten notes, and sneaky porch drop-offs, and thoughtfully wrapped gifts, and shared meals, and remembering birthdays (because those will always deserve to be celebrated) could gather.

A place that really reinforces that time spent slowing down is time never wasted. That generosity still matters, and people still matter.

The products are simply the invitation, and a jumping-off point!

The Kept Offering Co.’s method is intentional living. But the mission? SO much bigger than that! The mission is to remind people how to become the kind of people who still show up. The kind who notice. The kind who remember.

Every piece you'll find here has been handmade. By me. In small batches. Not because handmade is trendy, or because it's the easiest way to build a business. It’s actually quite the opposite…

I wanted every offering to begin the same way I hope it's received: with intention and care. With the hope that when someone opens it, whether that’s as a gift to someone else or for themself, they don't just see what was inside the box. I want them to feel the person who chose it.

As I'm writing this, it's late…much later than I should be up. My husband and I just finished streaming Remarkably Bright Creatures as our Mom & Dad time, and I am done with production for today. The boys are asleep, and the house is finally quiet. My tea is ice-cold, I'm battling mastitis, and tomorrow's to-do list is already waiting rounding the corner. But I couldn't wait any longer to write this.

Because if I'm asking this community to believe in showing up for one another, then I want to be the first one to model that.

I want The Journal to feel like a place that turns The Kept Offering Co. into more than just a small business. A place that reminds you to call your grandma, or to leave a bigger tip. To bake the bread, write the note, buy the flowers "just because." To open the good wine on a Tuesday, to check on the new mom. To text the friend who's been unusually quiet. To become the kind of person who makes someone else's day feel a little less lonely.

If The Kept Offering Co. becomes anything, I hope it becomes that. Not merely a place to shop. Hopefully a place that reminds us how to love people well.

I don't think the village disappeared. I think it's waiting for you and me to decide we'll be part of it again.

May you always be the person who remembers and who is remembered

—Jade

Founder, The Kept Offering Co.

An Invitation…

Who in your life could be reminded this week that they are seen?

Take this as your sign to write the note, make the call, drop off the meal, wrap the gift, or simply show up.

Someone is waiting to be remembered, friend.