WORDS TO LIVE BY

Our unlikely friendship started 16 years ago when I met her and her husband at MCA. He was a patient, and knowing of his stature and accomplishments in academia, I asked if he wanted to be addressed as Professor Larson or Dr. Larson. He replied, “I’d like to be called Precious.” And so it was. He became Precious, and Mary was Mrs. Precious. After Precious died, I stayed in touch with Mary. She was of the generation built on stoicism and grit. She declined grief therapy from hospice but kindly tolerated my calls and visits.

Our friendship was almost instantaneous. They say, “Friends come and go like the waves of an ocean, besties stick around like an octopus on your face.” Problem is, I don’t know who stuck to whom.

Mary lived life on her terms. She was single until she married in her late 60s – a marriage that ended way too soon, but a union filled with fun, laughter, travel, and Precious memories. After her husband died, Mary spent her remaining years doing as she damn-well pleased. She was fiercely independent (possibly to a fault, but don’t tell her I said that), stubborn, and predictable. A creature of habit – she had brunch at the Broadway Diner and visited with David every morning, devoured the daily paper with a “70-pound dog on her lap” every afternoon, and had dinner at Osaka or Jimmy’s Steakhouse most evenings.

Mary strongly disliked a particular political party and loved Rachel Maddow, cars, driving, Honeybun (the 70-pound dog), white chocolate mochas, pie from The Rolling Pin, and a good laugh. For almost 16 years, we spoke on the phone at least once a week. She was much more diligent about staying in touch than I was, but I enjoyed hearing her stories every time she called. (And yes, they were the same stories every conversation.)

Most recently, we’ve spoken on the phone a couple of times a day. Despite her diagnosis of cancer, Mary remained true to herself. She didn’t spend a lot of time dwelling on her illness or worrying about the future. There was no “Poor me,” it was more a shoulder shrug and, “What are ya gonna do?” She wasn’t in denial, she was just being Mary.

I’m going to miss her more than words can say. I’m happy for her, but sad for me. Yet, I will be forever grateful for the gift of her unconditional love and friendship. You go, girl!

💕💕

My nephew died a year ago today, and our family has not been the same since.

Everyone is dealing with the loss in their own way. Tears have been shed, stories and memories have been shared, and inexplicably, life has gone on without him. That’s what life does, and that’s what those left behind are forced to do. Despite broken hearts and unimaginable pain, we continue to move through the grief journey, one second, one minute, one day at a time.

Just when it felt like there was no end in sight, grace appeared.

Anne Lamott says, “I do not at all understand the mystery of grace – only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.” Grace was given on Thursday, for that I will be forever grateful. ❤️

Our current political season has been a study in human behavior. It’s been interesting to observe how friends, family, and fellow citizens have responded to the myriad events of the past four months. Is that right? It’s only been 4 months?!

Some people diligently research issues and are well-informed about the Constitution, laws, and governmental activities.

Then there are the expats and activists who have moved to somewhere other than here, sold their Teslas, and protested in the streets.

Others have chosen the delicate balance of attunement. Empathy, compassion, and mind-size bites enable them to maintain their sanity and emotional well-being.

Last but not least, some post memes that bring a little levity to our existence, while others depend upon their faith to comfort them.

I have the utmost respect for each and every approach.

I have no idea what the future holds, but I will make this prediction:

If you thought last year’s Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners were awkward, wait until your family gathers for Easter. Good luck and God bless!

❤️

Each year, I read The Purpose Driven Life for Lent. As close as I can figure, I’ve been reading that book for the past 16 years, give or take a year or two. I have highlighted passages on almost every page, and I date the highlights to remind me where I was emotionally and/or spiritually that year. The Purpose Driven Life is one of the three primers I read every year, the other two being Man’s Search for Meaning and Traveling Mercies.

Although the book is filled with pearls of wisdom, there’s one term that resonates with me every year, EGR, an acronym for Extra Grace Required. The book defines an EGR as someone who is “difficult, a person who may have special emotional needs, deep insecurities, irritating mannerisms, or poor social skills.” I’m not sure anyone needs a definition to recognize an EGR. Truth be told, I have no trouble identifying people who fit the description. However, this year, I’ve decided to look a little deeper and recognize the ways I am an EGR:

• When I’m judgmental – hence the list of others who are EGR.
• When I’m impatient – usually just with insurance companies and healthcare systems that don’t do their job. Has anyone else attempted to transfer their medical records from one provider to another? If so, I know you feel me.
• When I spend too much time overthinking instead of trusting the process and God.
• When I lack the self-confidence to say or do the things I know need to be said or done.
• When old hurts and faults still haunt me.
• When I leave social events without telling anyone – I believe it’s called an Irish goodbye, but naming it doesn’t make it any more socially acceptable.
  
  Despite my need for EGR, I’m thankful for those who love me for who I am, and forgive me for who I’m not.

In November, my daughter’s corporate position with a national healthcare entity was eliminated. For months, Kate had been vocal with leadership about unrealistic expectations, work/life balance, and burnout among staff. Their answer was to eliminate her position and to assign her responsibilities to the other directors. I’m sure her colleagues were thrilled.

The change was a blessing in disguise. For the first time in ever, she was able to enjoy the holidays without demands on her time and energy. She was astonished at how well she was sleeping, and she spent hours reading, exercising, and catching up with friends. She also took time to consider her future.

For years, Kate has dreamt of being a lawyer. It was obvious early on that she could debate (aka argue) any issue she deemed unfair. I remember her 8th-grade teacher telling me, “As an adult, her determination and confidence will serve her well, but right now, she’s a challenge.” Shoutout to Mrs. Kelly and her foresight.

When Kate told me she was going to take the LSAT and apply to law school, I was not surprised. Kate is a planner. I knew if she had decided to pursue a JD, she had considered every possible detail…thrice.

She took the LSAT in February. Despite being disappointed in her score, she has already received acceptance letters from several universities. She’s retaking the LSAT next week to see if she can “do better.” Mrs. Kelly would be proud, I know I am.

What does it cost to be kind? Our time, attention, common courtesy? Now more than ever, kindness seems to be one of the few things we can control AND it’s free. How great is that?!

We all have the same 24 hours. How we spend those precious moments is up to us. Sometimes, kindness is as simple as sending a text telling someone we are thinking of them. Other times, it may be a phone call to offer support. I recently received a ‘thank you’ card from a client and it made my day. Actually, I have it on my kitchen counter, and I smile every time I see it.

The gift of our undivided attention is another form of kindness. Multi-tasking seems to be taking over the world. Silencing our phones, making eye contact, and listening to understand, not respond are all ways to demonstrate kindness. The solitary act of being present with someone is invaluable.

Let’s not let common courtesy become a lost art in polite (or not so polite) society. Didn’t everyone learn to say please and thank you? How about holding the door for the person behind you? Saying excuse me when we walk in front of someone? Silencing our cell phones in public? Tipping generously? Being a good sport even when we lose the game? Such simple things that don’t cost a dime, yet they are priceless!

“Be the change you wish to see in the world.” Gandhi

Courage comes in all shapes and sizes.

For the past few years, I’ve spent time with my gbabes as they learned to drive. I’ll admit it took a certain amount of bravery on my part to sit in the passenger seat while they learned the fine art of driving. It wasn’t until the oldest prepared to take his driver’s license test that I realized how courageous he was, too. I hadn’t given much thought to the pressure he was feeling to pass the exam on his first attempt. He passed, and his sigh of relief was palpable.

When I worked in oncology, patients would share the fears they experienced every time they walked into the clinic. Would the scans show progression? Is the chemotherapy working? Even patients who only visited once a year for their annual check-up mentioned how difficult it was to return to “the scene of the crime.”  Whether it’s your first time or 50^th, walking into a cancer clinic takes a certain amount of chutzpa.

This weekend I received a text from a favorite patient I’ve stayed in touch with for many, many years. I first met her when she came to the clinic for her 7-year check-up, expecting to be told she was cancer free. Unfortunately, the news was quite the opposite. In true fashion, she faced the challenge with determination and grace. You see, she was a single mom with 2 young sons; giving up was not an option. Over the last 15 years, she raised her sons, taught in elementary schools, and lived life well. She went for regular check-ups but refused traditional cancer treatment in lieu of a plant-based diet, avoiding processed foods and sugar. She really is sort of a walking miracle.

In her text, she told me she has decided to enroll in hospice. She explained that her symptoms are progressing and that she’s tired. I shared a favorite quote by ee cummings, “May absolute peace gently descend.” As is her style, she reassured me she was “all in on planning and sailing into this transition from physical to light.”

Courage comes in all shapes and sizes.

I have a stress fracture in my foot. I don’t know how or why, it just happened. Every step reminds me things are not as they used to be. It’s as if everything I’ve done in the past to ensure and protect my love of running has been dismantled, step by step.

As is so often the case in life, I have choices:

I can disregard the skilled advice of medical professionals and negate the recommendations of trainers who are experts in their field and continue to run, childishly refusing to alter my plans even though in doing so I will be causing more harm than good.

OR

I can sit on the couch doing nothing and criticize and condemn anyone who disagrees with me. I can refuse to listen to the sage advice of trusted advisors and friends who may have experienced a similar situation, and adamantly denounce any attempts to influence my plans.

OR

I can modify my plans and do whatever causes the least harm. If I can’t run, I can walk. I can depend on the expertise of professionals to guide me in making appropriate decisions that will result in renewed strength and ability. Lastly, I can listen to my head and my heart (and my foot) and act accordingly.

It’s always good to have choices.

There are people in this world that have extraordinary talent. Not me. I will never break a record, set a record, or appear in the Guinness book of ultimate success.

My talents are much less impressive:

In years past, I could make $2.46 last an entire week.
I’ve been known to put not one, but both feet in my mouth.
I can trip on a perfectly flat surface and break my wrist in a gazillion pieces.
I can spend 72 hours dreading an issue that takes 15 minutes to resolve.
I will run 10 miles but resist doing 10 sit-ups.
I can vividly recall events from 40 years ago but can’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday.
I still can’t find something I put away for safekeeping.
I could go on; the list is endless.

No talent required.

There’s a lot going on right now – I mean A LOT. It’s hard to know what’s true or false, right or wrong, and who to blame (although I have my suspicions).

It’s taken me a minute or two (or 100000) to remind myself I hold the power to my peace of mind. And, in reclaiming my power, I’ve found ways to quiet my fears and trepidation (sometimes)! In case Elon is checking, here are the 5 things I did this week:

1. It’s hard to go through life avoiding the news yet the news is often a source of angst for me. I’ve asked trusted friends from both sides of the aisle where they get their information and I engage in mind-size bites to stay informed.

2. I’ve increased my meditation practice and breathwork to maintain some semblance of tranquility.

3. I’m leaving voicemails for my political representatives requesting specific action. I have my doubts about the effectiveness of this practice, but it makes me feel like I’m doing something besides complaining.

4. I’m avoiding people whose vitriol affects my mental health. I still love them and respect their right to feel all the feels, just not at the expense of my emotional well-being.

5. Last but not least, I’m starting each day in prayer. Prayers for my family and friends, prayers for the President and our elected officials, and prayers for our country and world peace. I’m not sure they help but they can’t hurt.

“You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” Ghandi