Dear fellow parent,

Thank you for meeting me here again.
Last week we leaned in and listened to the body’s call for rest.
Now we turn the compass to Engage, which, in the Now and Next™ way of seeing, means taking small, strength-based steps that move us gently toward what matters.

One of the reasons I love and now use the Now and Next™ programmes with families and communities is that it refuses to begin with deficits.
It starts with strengths — the sparks already present in our children, our families, and ourselves.
When life feels busy or uncertain, noticing these sparks becomes a lifeline.
It reminds us that we are already on our way there.

In these shorter, darker days, “engaging” doesn’t have to mean huge change.
It can be as humble as asking: What strength in me wants to help us rest?
Maybe it’s curiosity that suggests a slower bedtime routine.
Maybe it’s humour that breaks the tension.
Maybe it’s persistence that chooses a walk even when screens call for our attention.

In Now and Next™, families often create tiny, doable steps that honour their chosen vision.
Each step is specific, achievable, and rooted in strengths.
We might say: “This week, our family will spend ten quiet minutes together after dinner.”
That’s all.
No perfection required.

Occupational therapy backs this up: participation shapes wellbeing far more than performance.
Small, repeatable actions regulate our systems and build confidence.
And in the larger picture, these steps teach our children that rest and agency can coexist.

So as you read this, perhaps pause and notice:
What small act of rest feels possible today?
What strength in you can make it happen?

For me, it was creativity.
I began to light a candle each evening around 5pm — a gentle signal to the whole household: let’s begin to slow down.
Within a week, that tiny act changed the rhythm of our evenings. It has also supported me as I mourn the loss of Manchán Magan.
One flame; one breath; one step.

A Glimpse Ahead

Next time, we’ll move toward the “A” in our L-E-A-D compass: Adapt — allowing rest to shift from something we do into something we are.

Before you close this email, take a breath for yourself, and a breath for your child.
Not the child in the reports — the child who called you into becoming.

May we take small steps that honour what’s already strong.
May we trust that rest grows one action at a time.
And may the ladybird stretch her tiny legs, reminding us that movement and stillness can coexist.