I’m sharing small lessons in living — the kind you don’t always recognize while you’re learning them. They don’t arrive all at once. They show up quietly, over time, usually after you’ve already lived through the hard part. This one took me longer than I care to admit. For a long time, I thought saying yes was proof that I was a good person. Over time, I’ve learned that saying no is okay — even though it took me a while to believe it. If someone invited me somewhere, I went.If someone asked me to do something, I said sure — nothing illegal or immoral.I believed that showing up —…
Latest Posts
-
-
In The Blink Of An Eye
By the skin of my teeth, I missed getting caught in a blizzard this morning. It started as a quiet winter day, and then—in the blink of an eye—everything changed. When I got to work, the skies were clear—or at least I think they were. I didn’t look up. It was Midwest windy, the kind that makes it hard to open your door and then slams it shut behind you. Nothing that suggested what was about to happen. No sooner than I could remove my coat, the temperature dropped, fog appeared, and everything changed. I watched from my window as it went from a few flakes to blinding white, no…
-
When Cooking Fills You Up Before You Ever Sit Down
Sink full of dishes after cooking, showing olfactory sensory overload"
-
Lessons in Living, from Dragonflies and My Mom
This is the first in a quiet series of reflections I’ll be sharing throughout the year — things I’m learning as I continue living, healing, and finding light where I can. Lesson One: Life Continues After Loss As this year comes to a close, I’ve been thinking a lot about something my dad asked of me a long time ago. When he passed in 2002, he made me promise him one thing — that I would live. At the time, I didn’t really understand what he meant. Back then, living felt like doing what needed to be done — getting up, going to work, being responsible, showing up for everyone…
-
Christmas Is Over (And Mom Would’ve Approved)
This was our first Christmas without my mom — and Christmas is officially over. Letting the First Christmas Without My Mom Be What It Was This was our first Christmas without my mom, and it was the holiday we worried about the most. She gained her wings in June, and somehow it feels like she planned this Christmas in a way she knew we could manage. Still, Christmas showed up anyway. The day felt warm and easy. Laughter came naturally, without forcing itself, and the food followed — plentiful, comforting, and shared without rushing. The gifts felt thoughtful, and joy found its way in right when we needed it. Then,…
-
It’s Almost Christmas, and I’m Not Emotionally Prepared for Another Turkey
It’s almost Christmas, and I’m going to be honest — I’m not emotionally prepared for another turkey. The only birds I want to hear about are the partridges in a pear tree. In fact, we didn’t even have turkey for Thanksgiving. By that point, we were already turkeyed out. So instead, we made pot roast — but some of the familiar sides were welcome to the party. Macaroni and cheese is mandatory. Of course, the same goes for sweet potato pie. Honestly, part of this goes way back to childhood. My father believed in getting the biggest bird possible and recycling it for days: turkey dinner, turkey sandwiches, even turkey…
