An occasional letter
Close Attention
A letter for people who want to notice more before deciding what it means.
Most of what matters in a life announces itself quietly. A child’s question on the way home. The thing a leader says almost as an aside. The moment a room goes still and no one names why. These are the places I keep returning to, because they tell the truth before anyone has decided what the truth should be.
Close Attention arrives when there is something worth noticing—a finished essay, or a shorter note still finding its shape. It is an occasional letter from someone paying attention alongside you.
Why
The work of noticing
In my work as a psychologist, one of the most useful things I can do is notice—staying with what is actually happening a little longer than is comfortable, before reaching for an explanation. Explanations come quickly, and they are often close enough to true that we stop looking.
The same thing is true in a family, a staff meeting, or a congregation. Groups reach for meaning quickly because ambiguity is uncomfortable and action feels urgent. But the interval between noticing and concluding is where deeper understanding becomes possible. Shorten it, and you may get a decision. Hold it open, and you may discover what the situation is actually asking of you.
That interval is what these essays are for. Not to tell you what a moment means, but to slow it down enough that you can see it more clearly—and then to trust you with what you find there.
Begin here
A few places to start
These three essays are a place to begin—and an introduction to some of the questions I keep returning to.
How are you, really?
Psychology, children, play, and close observation.
On grief
Stephanie’s lyrical and emotionally reflective voice.
Leadership lessons in unexpected places
Her ability to connect ordinary family life to leadership insight.
Inside Close Attention
What you’ll find here
Finished essays
Longer pieces, shared when the thinking feels ready rather than when a calendar says they are due. Essays about grief, leadership, childhood, faith, and the ordinary moments where those parts of life overlap.
Notes from the margins
Shorter observations that are not essays yet and may never be: a line from a book, something noticed while teaching or parenting, or a question I do not yet know how to answer.
Room to think
Writing that makes room for insight before instruction. I would rather leave you with a better question than an answer that closes the conversation too soon.