Perhaps one of the greatest gifts Vincent (van Gogh) gave was his conviction that this world in which we wait is not ugly or empty. This belief bore itself out in beautiful paintings of ordinary people and places. The world he knew was glorious, alive with color, texture, and wonder. He has helped us see it, and in helping us, he has nurtured the hope that a truer, greater glory lies just beyond. When we look into the night sky, Vincent taught us to see the stars swirl in the heavens. When the irises begin to rise, he gave us images to remember as we anticipate their unfolding blooms that prove there is life in what the winter months destroyed. When the dew settles on the field of poppies, he has helped us see it as illuminated with a million little lights.

Rembrandt is in the Wind by Russ Ramsey

(June-December 2025 HearthKeeper Book Club Book)

An important skill for the HearthKeeper is the ability to romance our lives, to view life romantically. This isn’t maintaining a giggle-bubble, the often-confused-with-love romance, but it does have a similar softening and gentleness. It is not so much the overused '80s filter that turned the man and woman staring into each other’s eyes all fuzzy. It’s more like the snow and petals constantly drifting about in Legend. (Watch it. You now have homework.) Romanticizing our life and work has a bit of grit and cleverness in the gentleness. It is a choice to be comforting and merry when we could be cold and harsh. It is a choice for beauty, not just utility.

So what is this skill? Why is it important? How do we grow it?

What: This took me a bit to work out because I’m a habitual romanticizer of life. My favorite books, my daydreams, my whole being leans towards the romanticization of my world. From Anne of Green Gables to Louis L’Amour to my love of meaty descriptions, I’ve been at this for so long that I may as well try to define myself. According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, “romanticize” means to make romantic or treat as idealized or heroic, to present details, incidents, or people in a romantic way. “Romantic” is defined as marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized.

Romanticizing our homes as the Keeper of the home is to intentionally layer imagination over our work. We cook our families a hearty stew, knowing we aren’t the first or the last woman to stand over the heat and stir. Lean into that feeling. Imagine all the women behind you stirring, stirring, stirring, and all the women before you doing the same. Let that fill you with joy and determination (which puts us right back at cheering strength and merry durability). This is working our gardens so that they please the eye. I’m slowly creating spaces where, if you squint, seeing a fairy would not be shocking. Even folding laundry, you can romanticize as you feel the fabrics, smooth the wrinkles, tidy corners, and make things once dirty chaos clean, fresh and ready.

To romanticize our lives is to notice. Notice the different bird songs or your hens' different clucks. Notice green buds. Stop and look at trees. Notice bubbles, the smell of bone broth, and the feel of textures. Notice the smell of coffee, the rise of steam, the swirl of creamer. Notice the way a beer pours into a glass with a swirl of foam and liquid. Notice tiny wildflowers. Notice the art on your walls. Notice the feel of fresh sheets and towels. Notice a favorite meal. But don’t just notice, notice with joy and determination.

Why: If we want to avoid the three HearthKeeper Plagues—boredom, burnout, and bitterness—romanticizing our life is one of the tools we use. When we’re on a heroic adventure to defeat the dragon who has hoarded all the dirty laundry, we’re much less likely to be bored. (Compose your own story. Maybe you’re a woman on the prairie or a maid in the scullery. Imagination and storytelling are wonderful ways to spice up the day.) When we have HearthKeeper dreams (I want a pretty clothesline), we’re much less likely to be burnt out. When we attend to our small corner of the world with joy and determination, we’re not as prone to bitterness. When we’re re-arming our men for their next battle, we tend to love and not bicker. When we remember we’re raising the next generation of eternal souls, we tend to take time with our children. When we view our work as sheltering, we tend to welcome others in. Romanticizing our life is part of the equipment we employ, on purpose, intentionally, to keep at bay the nagging temptation to abandon our labors.

How: I hate to totally un-romanticize romanticizing our lives, but we grow this perspective through hard work. We train and build mental habits. The good news is that training for a romantic life is fun.

Magazines: Look for publications that specifically inspire romance in your life like Bella Grace, Victoria Magazine, Homemade Homesteading (we’re one of their contributors), and Homegrown.
Books: Feed your mind with books like Anne of Green Gables, Rembrandt is in the Wind, The Last Unicorn, Watership Down, The Hidden Art of Homemaking, and always keep an eye out for Tenders in unexpected settings (like Howl’s Moving Castle).
Movies: Studio Ghibli always presents domestic situations with love and charm and coziness. The Last of the Mohicans is written, filmed, and scored with a romantic lens. Seek out a feeling of romancing life more than a chick-flick type romance. I mentioned Legend. It is a fairy tale filmed with as much fairy as they could stuff in it.
Playlists: Curate a playlist that inspires joy and determination. I have several that I use depending on my mood. Don’t hesitate to steal other HearthKeepers’ playlists. I often listen to Sarah’s foxfire waltz.
Memorization: While I highly recommend memorization as part of all our Bible Study, the memorization of poems also builds our minds and fills them with loveliness. Every day things spark a recitation of delight. This is a great way to accomplish the next point.
Beauty: Keep beauty before you always. Train yourself not to walk past beauty but to see it. Notice art, form, sunlight on the floor, and muddy toes. Notice the seasons. Hang light-catchers and bird feeders. Notice details, not just the big flowering bush, but the tiny white flower hidden in the grass. Nature is a great way, a must for romancing life. So is art in all its forms: paintings, photography, stories, drawing, architecture, and more. We need to study beauty, both high and low, and fill our homes with it. We are domestic artists after all.
Privacy: This is one I’ve been pondering on a lot as I’ve withdrawn from more and more social media. My life doesn’t need to be an open book. Full transparency isn’t required for authenticity. Some things are meant just for me or just for us. It’s like noticing the details. Some details won’t be noticed by visitors until they’ve been around several times. That’s okay. A life romanced isn’t a life that has to lay all the dirt out to feel real. A romantic life is a temperate life, not overindulging in good and certainly not constantly laying out the bad. A romantic life is a life of decorum and politeness. Yes, we want to be genuine, but being genuine doesn’t demand ugliness.

Romancing life requires us to notice all the beautiful details God is weaving into our lives. It is hard to do this if we have to instantly share those details with the world. We’ve programmed ourselves to be more concerned with the sharing than the noticing.

Learning to romance our lives is a great way to combat day-in and day-out anxiety. As funny as it seems, some of us don’t just struggle with anxiety over the big things, but even over our small domestic duties. (I’m laughing at myself.) Romanticizing these duties can ease anxiety. Mystie Winckler in Simplified Organization (the January-June HearthKeepers Book Club selection) calls this changing your story. Dumbledore describes it as: Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light. This is holding up the phial of Galadriel filled with the light of the Silmaril tied on Eärendil’s brow, which is the last light of the Two Trees in Shelob’s Lair. (Yes, I’m a nerd, and that right there is romancing life.) Stay in the fight against anxiety and discouragement by turning on the light of romance.

The dishes are piling up, the laundry needs to be brought under control, and on and on and on the list goes. Take a deep breath and do the first thing. If you need that dirty pan for dinner, then breathe and only do the dishes. Narrow your view. Now, as you wash, daydream, or notice the bubbles, water, smells, and feel of what you’re doing. Notice just this one thing. This is a grand time to pray (watch out for prayers that turn into spiraling resuscitations of anxiety; instead, praise and practice thankfulness), sing, listen to music, talk with family and friends, listen to audiobooks or podcasts. Take note of the view out your nearest window and dream of how you could make it more idyllic. Take note of all the plants in your view, the birds, the sunlight, or the flickering candle. Romance your life.

Life is hard, ladies, and it requires grit. But! God is good. There is always beauty to be found if we look.

How to Romanticize Our Lives

Ode to Freya

Social Media Burnt Out