Years ago, while Morgan and I were planning our move to L.A., one of Morgan’s friends, Greg, gave us a piece of advice that has stayed with us ever since.

“No matter where you land, make sure your home is your sanctuary.”

We took that nugget and ran with it.

We had no idea what life in L.A. would look like. We didn’t have jobs or a home yet—just a twinkle in our eyes and a Volvo filled to the brim with the bare necessities.

Eventually, we found an apartment right in the heart of East Hollywood—aka Thai Town, aka Little Armenia—and it was perfect for us.

The jobs came next.

At one point, Morgan and I were working at least eight different jobs between the two of us. 😂 Life was busy, unpredictable, and often exhausting, but we were proud of what we were building.

And on those extremely long days of going from one job to the next, we always knew we had a home to come back to.

Our sanctuary.

A place that helped us recharge before getting up and doing it all over again the next day.

It didn’t have to be perfect. It didn’t have to look a certain way. It just needed to feel safe, comfortable, and like ours.

We’ve carried that with us into every home since—even during the season when we lived in my mother-in-law’s basement during the pandemic, for which we will be forever grateful.

At the time, Kora, Morgan, and I shared one room. We made it work, and we made it our sanctuary.

We all shared one room during this season, so we created a little space that was just for Kora.

And I think that’s part of what I’ve learned over the years: sanctuary isn’t really about the home itself. It’s about how home supports you during the season you’re in.

Home as a Place to Land

And now we’re going through a different season in our family where Kora has needed a little extra support, and it’s reminded me why creating a home with intention is so important.

I’m intentionally keeping the details of that private because they’re hers to share someday if she chooses. But it has made me think even more about what I want our home to feel like—not just for me, but for all of us.

A place where we feel safe.

A place where we can rest.

A place where we can be ourselves.

A place where we actually want to spend time together.

During this season, we’ve reexamined some of our routines and made a few adjustments to better support what our family needs right now.

For us, that has mostly meant changing how we spend time together. We’ve cut back on screen time and started playing board games after dinner instead of automatically turning on a show. Hello, Carcassonne!

And none of that has anything to do with having a perfectly organized house.

Sanctuary Doesn’t Have an Aesthetic

I think sometimes we’re sold this idea that a peaceful home has to look a certain way.

Neutral colors. Clear countertops. Matching baskets. Nothing out of place.

And listen, I am a professional organizer. I appreciate a beautifully organized space as much as the next person. 😂

But I don’t think that’s what makes a home a sanctuary.

Your sanctuary might be colorful and full of things you love. It might be quiet and minimal. It might have kids’ artwork taped to the walls, a stack of books next to the couch, shoes by the door, and evidence everywhere that actual humans live there.

It can be organized.

It can also be imperfect.

Your home doesn’t have to look peaceful to someone else in order to feel peaceful to you.

So Where Does Organizing Fit In?

For me, organizing isn’t really about making a home look perfect. (I mean, what is perfect anyway?)

It’s about creating a home that supports the way you want to live.

Decluttering can be a big part of that too. Not because your sanctuary needs to be minimal—it absolutely doesn’t—but because making intentional decisions about what stays in your home creates more space for the things you actually use, need, and love.

If you want to sit down and do art with your kids, can you find the art supplies?

If you love playing games together, are the games somewhere you can easily grab them?

If mornings are stressful, could changing where backpacks, shoes, or lunch supplies live make getting out the door a little easier?

If you want your bedroom to feel restful, is there something in that space that’s making it harder for you to relax?

Sometimes creating a home that feels better isn’t about buying containers or reorganizing an entire room.

Sometimes it’s simply noticing:

How do I want to feel when I’m here?

And then looking around your home and asking whether it’s supporting that.