What Lights Your Fire?

I have many, many irrational fears and one of them is running out of gas. It’s never happened to me because once the light goes on I hone in on the first gas station that crosses my path. 

The other day the gas light went on and my inner panic lit up with it. I stopped at the first gas station available. One I’m not sure I ever noticed before. As I pulled up to the pump I noticed a young man sitting on the stoop by the door holding a sign made from a ripped cardboard box.

“Homeless…anything helps,” written boldly on the sign.

I noticed my gaze immediately went down. The same way it does when the girl scouts are staked out by the grocery store entrance. I don’t want the cookies and I don’t want to be guilted by the cookies, but now I feel guilted by their cute little faces. “Look away, Lynn, look away.”

His face was not cute. It was lost.

Don’t look away, Lynn. I heard my inner voice say. 

What?? I thought we were supposed to look away. This is uncomfortable. I can’t fix his pain. I can’t make it stop. I can’t face him knowing I have a warm place to go and food to eat that I get to cook. 

Don’t look away. The voice more pronounced. 

Fine. I looked directly at him and his eyes met mine.

I looked down and saw $6 in my console that had been there for weeks. I rarely ever have cash. “Anything helps.”

I opened the car door and walked directly over to him, cash in hand. I acknowledged it was very little and I hoped he found what he needed soon.

He immediately got up and looked me in the eyes. His eyes were clear and bright. His voice confident and filled with gratitude. 

“Thank you. I’m just waiting on my birth certificate from Texas and am working with a social worker at the soup kitchen to get a job.”

I felt his inner warmth, his spark, his optimism.

I met it with my own. 

“There are many services to get you back on your feet. I’ve used some of them myself and I know it takes awhile, but it does help. I’ve been there.”

He gently smiled acknowledging that winter was hard but he was hopeful things would change soon.

I wished him well and returned to fueling my car and was on my way.

Once out of sight, the tears came fast. I couldn’t stop them or slow them down.

I cried for his plight, his pain, his challenges, and the loneliness I’m sure he feels. I cried for those who feel the same, including myself, and the moments I’ve had (and still have) where overwhelm takes over and questioning everything feels consuming.

I cried for the human condition and how many people live with hopelessness that this is all their is. 

And then, when I was done crying, I asked myself what I wanted to DO about it. How could I best serve? How could I help the young man? How can I touch the loneliness and helplessness we all feel at times? How can I use my skills and resources with the limited capacity I have to do my part- whatever that is?

Keep sharing Hope, Lynn. Keep sharing the stories of Hope. Everyone needs the reminders, including you.

I took the answer as the sign I needed to keep moving forward. To keep plugging along. To keep listening to that inner fire that says- we all make a difference. 

And that is what I will do.

I later met my friend at a cafe and designed small cards I can hand out to strangers and people I meet to remind them there is Hope. There is Support. There is Love to be felt by all. I will keep asking and sharing Stories of Serendipity to reignite and remind our Faith to keep burning. 

What is your nudge? What is the little voice that speaks in terms of passion and aliveness? What lights you up? 

Go there. Keep blowing on the embers. “Anything helps.”

Who knows what your spark is meant to create? 

If you have a Story of Serendipity to share, please do! We ALL need the reminders. 

Submit Your Story:

http://www.livingwithserendipity.com/submit-story-of-serendipity

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https://lynnreilly.substack.com/

The Challenge of Trusting the Process

I am in this weird, uncomfortable stage of life right now called transition, where everything is changing and I’m not actually sure where I’m going or how I’m going to get there, but I KNOW I am going in the right direction…to somewhere. 

A few weeks ago I was heading down the rabbit hole of frustration and not knowing where to put my energy and I wrote down- “Live one day at a time for now. Practice not knowing and trusting the process.”

Sounds kind of romantic unless you are one who actually likes to grip on to what you know. 

I teach the value of trust and even techniques how to trust, but what I know for sure is, trust is not easy when you have been trained to not trust. It takes daily practice when your default is to control the world around you. Or at least think you are controlling the world around you. 

I woke up last week and had the urge to go check out a new library. The library has been my destination of choice as of late to get out of the house and write or do work…or just sit in the energy of all those words and dreams that came to life on paper. 

I had a strong pull to go to this one library and feel it out. I wasn’t sure why and when I questioned if that was REALLY where I wanted to go, the answer was yes. 

Okay, I’m in. Although I will readily question my intuition, I also know it rarely steers me wrong when I follow through to the end of whatever adventure it takes me on.

This time was no different. 

My drive to the town library 30 minutes from my house was not what I expected. Beautiful, yes. It usually is. But quiet? No.

As I drove by a few familiar houses and vista points my emotions began to bubble up and my mind began to race. The ache I thought I had moved through began to resurface.

Ugh. What do you want now??

“You’re not done feeling this one yet.”

The tears began to silently drop one by one. “What happened? How did I get here?”

The confusion began to flood my thoughts as well. The multitude of question marks and lack of periods.

Can’t I just accept it for what it is? A part of the journey. An experience I was meant to have. Maybe I don’t need to know why. Maybe I just need to appreciate what is. 

The sadness filled my chest. 

“I just wish I knew…” I heard her say.

She speaks often- the part of me that wants to understand life and it’s meaning. The part that likes to make sense of it all. But I can’t yet. I’m still in the middle and I can’t see what is meant to be next. I’m simply supposed to TRUST it’s all happening for me. 

My conversation with my client earlier in the morning popped up in my mind.

While she spun in circles with the fear of not getting the home she wanted, I recounted the story of buying my current home. I thought I was buying a different house, one I thought was perfect for me. 

Everything lined up as though it was meant to be mine. I did the daily drive by stalk. I felt myself living there. I envisioned it as though it was mine. And then, when I least expected it, it dropped out. It was no longer an option. 

Within a week, my current home popped up on the market and took the offer I never dreamed would work. It took another year of more question marks than periods for the house to officially be mine and mine alone, but the windy road brought me to a place that at once seemed impossible.

One door closed for another to open. 

I know how it works….but it doesn’t turn off the grief.

Even knowing its “happening for a reason” doesn’t eliminate the discomfort or frustration or old feelings that wanted to remind me they still needed to be felt. 

Including the aftershocks after the quake…

I arrived at the library and it was not what I thought. It seemed as though it was a temporary location while whatever new library was being worked on. The library I was drawn to visit was also in transition. 

When I went inside it was busy and uninviting and it didn’t really have the vibe that anyone wanted to be there. I took a quick tour of a few different rooms and quickly determined, I too, did not want to be there. I walked out.

“Why am I here? What brought me here?” 

I got in my car and decided I would try another library closer to home I hadn’t been to but always wanted to go. Accepting the reroute, I turned the music up in my car as I headed towards my next destination.

And then it came…the answer. I was brought this way to feel my feelings. To go back over the ground of the familiar to bring up what felt unexpressed. I didn’t WANT to feel the sad but the sad still needed some space to breathe and the stomping grounds I drove through brought out the memories I needed to feel it through.

Fiiiine. 

The current journey was my destination. The unexpressed feelings were the experience I was avoiding. I drove there not to experience the new but to feel the old, so I could open myself up to the new. 

As I walked into the next library, tiny and full of good vibes, I was directed to the children’s room. My eyes welled up when I walked down the stairs and saw the long table covered with books inviting me in. 

Welcome to the day’s serendipity. 

Surrounded by joy and colorful captures of life in the most whimsical forms. I had almost forgotten, I too, had created one of these live treasures. My own published children’s book brought to life by the visions inside me coming out to be seen. I was surrounded by dreams that looked like mine reminding me to stay the course and see how it plays out. 

It is indeed scary to not know where you will go and be at end of the day. Yet the journey is also one full of possibility, hope, dreams and unknowns which could turn in to the dreams you didn’t know you had. 

So much passion waiting to come alive and birth into the fullness of life. 

Maybe I don’t know where I need to be. Maybe there is no need at all. Maybe each day has its own set of serendipity waiting to be experienced when you open the door to live it. 

I don’t know what I’m doing next, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe I never really did.

Where I am is exactly where I’m supposed to be. And maybe trusting the process is learning to be okay with that. 

Feeling Fear of Uncertainty?

In times of stress and heightened anxiety it’s hard to grasp the belief that life is happening for us. When we want to close off and hide, we don’t see the safety outside of the walls we’ve built. It’s a defense we created long ago at the first experience of perceived danger. We focus on keeping threat out and keeping ourselves safe from the unknown. 

It’s a learned and fair response. We work to make the unknown a known to protect ourselves.

Here’s the good news: the unknown is already known. You have a lifetime of experiencing fear. You know how to do this. Use your past as proof that in times of great distress, you have created many stories as to what could happen and rarely, if ever, do they come true.

And if they have, you have survived and gained something from them. Sometimes that gain is strength and resilience or new supports, and sometimes it’s deeper joy than you knew possible. But each time, your experiences shifted and stress lifted returning you back to the feeling of safety. We ebb and flow. This is expected. 

This is also the design of life. Experiences that challenge our biggest fears to return us to a place of peace. Our emotions are temporary. Our experiences are temporary. We are ever shifting and evolving as each opportunity asks us to love deeper and harder and with more faith than the time before. 

When fear sidles up next to you ask it what is it’s root. Is it fear of loss of control? Uncertainty? Is it fear of rejection? Is it loss? Fear of being alone? Is it not having basic needs met? Call it by name. 

Then ask for an example when this fear came to fruition in your past, if ever. What was your experience? How did you get through it? What helped as you navigated it? What did you learn from it? How are you still learning from it? What can help you now as the energy  moves through your system? 

Identify ways you can support yourself or ask for support in the process. 

When we are feeling fear we like to feel in control of something. Use this practice to control how you support yourself and others in times of distress.

It shifts our energy and brings us back to our core nature of peace. And who couldn’t use a little more of that? 

Living Serendipitously, in the flow of life, is the practice of feeling allll of your feelings. They all have a seat at the table. Yet at the core, at the head, is Love. After all feelings voice their views, Love, our True and Higher Self has the final say. Love is the only Energy that stays consistent and unshakable.

I recognize in times of heightened fear, we want more evidence than words. I will be writing more about creating this evidence later.

For today, practice listening to any fear that pops up and letting it speak. Use your past of proof you are going to be okay and you know what you are doing. Although our current experience is unprecedented, our experience with navigating fear is not. You’ve got this.

Fuck You...and Thank You

While out having a beer with a friend earlier this week I was venting about my work and how tiring it can be. I explained how it feels like my clients hand me a plate of shit each week and my job is to take that shit and rearrange it, dress it up, make it look pretty and hand it back to them as a delicacy to appreciate instead of one they abhor. 

I know I’m doing my job well when I serve them a slice and it hits a chord of truth. “Fuck You, Lynn” are my very favorite words. Words of recognition they are on the path to healing. Words that confirm the resistance is ready to be seen. And once seen, we have the opportunity to move through it to return to a state of flow.

I feel fortunate to have the skills to be able to sift through the shit and find beauty. It seems to be one I was born with, but one that also requires maintenance, practice, and continuing education. To see serendipity, one must be open to flow. Let go of the grip of control and trust in the process of life. 

On my best days, I feel like a goddess. My vision is so clear and so full of beauty I could soar across the world sprinkling hope bombs with the power of my faith. On the tough days, I roll through my own pile of shit seeing nothing but shit and despising my chosen path.

This past week I rolled through the shit. One unexpected and highly uncomfortable event after another fell into my lap forcing me to pause and look at my reactions. I watched myself lose my ability to think clearly. I watched my fear swing into full gear and go into a protective mode that appears to be that of an 11 year old girl who lost faith in anyone’s ability to take care of her. I watched myself harden and crawl into myself so no one could get to me. 

I stopped meditating. I stopped journaling. I stopped sleeping. I started blaming. I started shaming. I did all the things I’ve done for years when I stop trusting. I attempt to take back control when I feel out of control. Survival mode at its best.

My tactics feel almost automatic. I don’t feel like I have control over them. This is when people say “I lost my mind.” “I’ve gone crazy.” “I don’t know who I am.” The voice of disconnection from oneself is well known.

It is the voice of the protective ego who swoops in under the guise as safety patrol. It promises to keep us safe while simultaneously fighting off the potential of trust by taking over and trying to do it all alone. 

I hear it loud and clear.

“I don’t trust anyone.” “Fuck all of this.” “I hate my life.” “Stay away from me.” “I am not safe.”

Ahhh yes. I know these voices well. And please get out of my way so I can navigate all of this with every fear I’ve ever known leading the way. It has notoriously worked exceptionally well. (insert sarcasm font)

The difference for me this go around is that I have been slowing down to watch my emotional reactions for many months now. Listening to the voices and narratives in my head and observing them before reacting to them. Sometimes. Other times I react and then go back and clean up the debris and shrapnel I’ve left in my path. 

It makes me feel volatile and unpredictable but I know this is the process to change. The process to real trust. Because trust, is a practice. Even for those of us who teach it. 

One thing I know for sure, when we are ready for growth, we are given many opportunities to elevate and move in a direction that is better than our current vision can see. Which means, our plate of shit can get an extra serving we weren’t quite expecting. Then we have a choice. Are you going to throw the shit against the wall and curse at it or are you going to look at the opportunity in front of you and be open to allowing the gift to reveal itself while not knowing what it is. 

I personally do both. 

I start by throwing the shit (aka feeling my feelings). Sometimes that looks like floods of tears. Sometimes its seething anger. Sometimes its recoiling from life. And sometimes that’s all in one hour. I grip for control. Its what I was trained to do. 

I give my fear a voice. 

And then I pause. I listen. I go for a walk. I vent to a friend. I write down my fears and then write down the truth. I look at my history and see how all the things I told myself would never get better, did. Always. In some way. 

I open myself back up to faith. But not without having a temper tantrum first. 

That is my current process. I hope at some point it will change. I’d like for it to move more smoothly and with less upheaval, but I won’t know that until it happens. 

The process of trust means allowing myself to feel. To surrender to myself. To experience all the yuck to let it move through me. To lean in to the resistance of feeling out of control. And once I do this, I begin to slooowly relax my grip. I begin to hear my intuitive voice remind me I am safe. I begin to feel the calm that comes after the storm. 

And then I begin my practices again. I step outside of myself and see my experience from a higher perspective. I look in from the outside and ask what is really going on. I see how once again, I am being asked to practice what I’ve been taught to strengthen my own muscle of trust and understanding so I can pass on to others. 

First take care of me, so I can support you. 

Well played Life, well played. Fuck You…and Thank You. 

As with all uncomfortable events, we are given small tastes of joy to make sure we see we are seen and supported. The universe slips in love notes so we know we are not alone. 

This morning mine came in the form of my daughter playing the son Walking on Sunshine saying we needed this, which lead to a spontaneous dance party in our living room with the three of us. It was the lightest I have felt all week. 

Followed by my son expressing how he loves to watch me sit on the couch and write because he can feel it is when I am the most happy. “Expressing your feelings in a way that works for you, but translates to rest of the world. Can you believe we were on food stamps five and a half years ago, Mom? I’m so proud of you. You are are my role model in life on how to take risks to follow your heart.”

With every dark day there is a beam of light somewhere shining through. And I will never stop being grateful for mine. 

What is your process to practice trust?

Say Yes to What Excites You and Make This the Year You Really Live

“I imagine that Yes is the only living thing.” ~E.E. Cummings

During the fall of 2017 I began openly dating, four years after my separation and divorce of a twenty-plus year relationship. It was scary. And I was clear—I didn’t want a commitment, I just wanted the experience and some fun.

My third round of online dating, I finally went out with some younger men who I assumed lined up with my non-commitment goal. It was different and fun, but also not quite what I wanted.

In December of that year, my friend, who was interested in getting to know me more and had been asking me to lunch for months, called me out on my non-commitment. I always had the perfect excuse as to why I couldn’t go. But none of them were as valid as the truth: I was scared.

What if I enjoyed my time with him? What if he liked me and I had to let him down because I wanted nothing to do with a real relationship? My biggest fear is hurting other people, so I didn’t want to even consider that option. Until he said, “Why don’t you stop avoiding and commit to lunch.”

I really dislike being called out, especially when it’s right. So I went.

And you know what happened? What I feared. I enjoyed myself—for four hours. It was filled with great conversation and great company. We closed down the restaurant with our lengthy stay. For someone who listens to people all day long as a professional counselor, I thoroughly enjoyed being listened to and heard. It was wonderful.

And from that moment, my goal for 2018 was born. The Year of Yes.

For the entire year I would commit to saying yes to opportunities that scared me. Ones that made me squirmy and uncomfortable and that promised to teach me something every step of the way.

In 2018, I created podcasts, which I had been avoiding. It scared me to put my work out there and expose myself. As I created them I discovered I loved them. They inspired me to continue doing the work I’m passionate about and still do.

I also opened myself up to doing a number of interviews that completely took me out of my comfort zone. If someone contacted me or an opportunity arose that made my heart beat fast, I said yes without thinking.

When my voice of inspiration popped up and guided me to write and post, I did. When I felt the pull to take financial risks that made me question my stability, I took them. If it felt scary but exciting, I said yes. And didn’t look back.

When the days were sunny and I had a ton of work to do, but a fun option presented itself, I chose the fun. Not an ounce of regret.

I said yes to adventure. I traveled more readily and confidently in 2018 than any other year of my life. I’m an anxious flyer and I jumped on a tiny plane up the coast and large planes across the country. I explored. I stayed open. I was scared, but I did it anyway, and loved it.

I also said yes to a new relationship—sloooowly. Very, very slowly.

In that relationship I noticed things in myself I could not have seen on my own. How quickly I want to bail if I’m uncomfortable. How hard it is for me to receive kindness and love and allow it to be a comfortable part of my life. How much I clam up when I want to run and how easy it is for me to shut down, all while teaching others how to do the complete opposite. Which meant I too, had to practice what I preached.

I learned to communicate like a champ. I shared my feelings when I would normally close them off. I let myself get close to people when I’d rather stay much, much further away.

I chose to say yes. I said yes to myself. I said yes to my life.

And I lived.

I lived in a way I’d been wanting to. I let the yeses guide me to the next step and the next place to grow and enjoy myself. I proved to myself over and over again that the rewards far outweighed the risks of what I thought it would take to be enjoying—truly enjoying—my life.

I reaffirmed what I believed to be true: When I follow my heart, my intuition, my knowing, life has a way of working itself out. Not without some level of discomfort. Not without experiences of pain. Not without changing some tough habits to shake. But all with a value that lasts and creates experiences I’ve desired all along.

I learned that my fear was also my thrill. My shaking and restlessness were also my courage. My pause was my inhale before the exhale to true joy.

We are trained to fear, to hold back and question all the things that can go wrong. We are masterful at saying no to living, to taking chances and being uncomfortable.

We want proof we will be okay. I know I do. And luckily, it already exists.

We have years of being afraid of worst-case scenarios that never played out.

We have memories of taking risks and things turning out even better than we expected.

There may also have been times when things didn’t work out better than expected, or even close. But when we didn’t get what we wanted, we usually got what we needed—we learned, we grew, and we opened ourselves up to new connections and possibilities.

From all our assorted adventures, there were pains that helped us grow stronger and triumphs that helped us feel braver.

We have proof that when we follow what feels right, we’re always on the right path for us.

We have a life that lovingly and courageously wants to be lived.

What would happen if you started saying yes? What would your life look like if you let yourself live? If you pushed through your fears and excuses and let your curiosity and excitement lead the way?

You have all the reasons you can’t. But you also have the reasons you can.

What will you choose?

Original Post on Tiny Buddha

A Simple Way to Change the World...and actually enjoy it

I was shaking as I sat down to put my feet over the edge of the rock cliff. I have a strong fear of heights and that vision of going over and falling to my bone shattering doom is always unsettling.  But I was determined. And scared. But apparently determination would win out that day.

I wanted to prove to myself I could do it. I wanted to push myself to the edge and just sit in the fear, let it wash over me, and not move.  It was hard. But I knew I had lived through harder things. And that fear was just a feeling. I wasn’t actually going to fly over the edge. At least I hoped not. 

Several weeks prior I had dangled my legs over that same ledge and felt the familiar sense of shaking fear. Next to me, sat my friend who seemed un-phased by the potential danger…even commenting that his fear of heights didn’t seem to bother him anymore which almost made him sad.  At that point, I felt I could feel it for the both of us. We sat there together, legs moving back and forth. Him looking at ease, me with my heart racing trying to find my calm. I never would have sat there by myself, but with him sitting next to me I felt safer. I felt protected.  He looked fearless as he encouraged me to do what made me fiercely uncomfortable.  I was inspired by his attitude and his strength. Even though I could see he was pretty unimpressed with himself.

When I returned to the ledge on my own, I knew I could do it. I had proof it was possible. I imagined sitting next to my friend and feeling safe…and even though it didn’t take the fear away, it inspired me enough to keep going. I took a picture of my shaking, dangling legs to remind myself I could be strong and brave if I let myself be. I was in the middle of facing many of my fears in life. I had to keep going.

I sent the picture to another friend who was also in the middle of facing and living through many of her own fears as well. She praised me over and over again. She told me the story of a fire tower she climbed once with a friend and was terrified of it. She felt stronger with a friend as well. She wondered if she could climb it alone.

Later in the week, she announced she was going to climb the fire tower solo. She wanted to prove to herself she could. She text me several times from the bottom of the tower saying she couldn’t do it. She wanted to but she couldn’t find the strength inside herself.  With each elevated step, the panic took over. She was disappointed, but she was glad she made the attempt.

Less than a half an hour later, she sent me a picture of herself at the top of the tower. She looked horrified! But she did it.  She took each uncomfortable step and made it to the top. She was so proud and in love with herself for her accomplishment she could barely find the words to express it. Pure bliss. Pure pride. Pure love. And pure understanding that we are the only obstacle getting in our own way.

She was overwhelmed with all that she had learned in that experience and it took her a few days to process it all. She wrote about the experience documenting the internal journey that got her there. She was excited to share it. We met that week and talked in person as she once again shared how amazing she felt and scheduled her post to go out the next day.  Still overjoyed she went home on top of the world.

The next morning her scheduled post popped up on Facebook…only hours after it had been discovered that she had died in her sleep. The timing was eerily and sadly perfect.

My friend transitioned from this life on top of the world. She loved herself with complete acceptance of who she was and what she stood for.  She lived as a gift and left with a gift that most work much of their lives hoping to attain.

I returned to the ledge the other day and realized I hadn’t been there in almost two years since she passed. I sat on a rock ledge overlooking the area…not the same one…I didn’t need to prove anything to myself that day. I remembered how inspired I was by my friend’s strength when he sat next to me on the ledge and I remembered the pride my other friend felt when she rediscovered her own. He inspired me, I inspired her, and she inspired herself to be who she already was.  Everything connects. Everyone connects. We are all in this together.

You have no idea how many people you’ve inspired or touched or encouraged just by being yourself.  You don’t know because we don’t share our stories enough. We don’t tell each other how often we appreciate each other and how meaningful we find our connections. We don’t even realize how much we need each other to enjoy this life.

We share our heartache and frustration way more than we do our joy.  And I know for sure we don’t say thank you nearly enough.  For our experiences. For the moments that tap into our strength. For the people that surround us who show us more…and who motivate us to be more.

Most of us live in cultures which support “misery loves company.” We don’t want to feel alone in our fears and our sorrows. But what if we spent more time sharing our successes and our conquered fears? What if we spoke more of our beautiful friendships and relationships, as well as and the moments we meet strangers who make us think twice about our place and our purpose? What would that be like?  Keep Reading...

Facing the Fear of Change: Big Risks Can Bring Big Rewards

“Change will not come if we wait for some other person, or if we wait for some other time. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.” ~Barack Obama

If someone said to you, “Hey, you know how you are feeling the need for change and you’re not sure what to do? Well, I can’t tell you what to do, but I can guarantee that if you follow where your heart leads you, you’ll create the possibility of more joy than you’ve ever felt before. All you have to do is walk through the doors that will keep opening up for you and trust, completely, that you are on the right track. You may question it at times, but keep going. You’ll be fine no matter what.”

What would you do? Would you follow the guarantee or would you keep doing what you’re doing?

What if the caveat was added, “Oh, you should probably know that if you do this, you run the risk of losing much of what you’ve known and who you think you are now will look completely different the next time you look in the mirror.”

Ummmm… hold up. Let me think about that.

That’s basically what happens when you know it’s time to change up your life and you’re innately scared to do so.

So, what do you do?

I spend a lot of time in deep reflection and introspection. And it’s not because I want to; it’s because I am constantly trying to understand myself, to figure out where I’m headed and what’s potentially holding me back from getting there.

Most of the time, I feel completely in the dark. And while my grandmother always told me that there is nothing in the dark that can hurt you, I’m human; I question this theory. And yet I continue to trust that she’s right. She lived over eighty years and was the most inspirational woman I’ve known; she must’ve learned something pretty valuable to be expressing these bold opinions.

So I had the nudge to change myself and I went with it. No, that’s not accurate—I had the internal and external shove and I went for it.

In the matter of a few short years, I got divorced, bought a house, lived alone with my kids, completely supported myself financially and then left my job, started a business, and changed the majority of my friends. I chose to start completely over in many ways.

On paper, I looked a bit off balanced. Keep Reading...

The Story Behind the Story...The Secret to Beating the Dragon

Book Summary:

Andrew and his grandmother are best friends and spend their time together telling stories of conquering imaginary dragons (fear) by being brave (looking fear in the eye). As Gram ages and her life ends, Andrew is left to battle the dragons alone until he discovers that Gram has been with him all along.

Embrace the moments…that’s my focus lately.

My children’s book, The Secret to Beating the Dragon, was delivered to me the other day. My initial reaction was excitement…and then an immediate sense of sadness because my kids weren’t home to view it with me for the first time.  I wished they were…

But I am a firm believer in Divine timing. I do believe life is perfectly timed out for us, even when it makes no sense to us at all. So I questioned, “why must I be alone to see the book for the first time? They love it too!”

And it hit me….the night I wrote the story I was home alone for one of the first overnights my kids were with their dad after our separation.  I missed them and it gave me the opportunity to sit with myself and feel. Let’s be honest, that is not something we typically enjoy. But I wanted to embrace it and felt inspired to write.

I sat in my kitchen, notebook in hand and let the words fill the page.  Crying as I wrote, I felt the emotions of love and loss and strength and courage. And then I text the story to my cousin, Andrew, whose relationship with my grandmother inspired the story to begin with.  Along with him, I cried some more.

The story is heartwarming and I knew I wanted to share it.

The moment has come full circle.

But the day I held the book…that moment was for me. And Andrew. I text him the picture of it immediately. He is the primary reason I wanted this story to come to life. His love for his grandmother...and hers for him. Beautiful and inspiring and the kind of love that makes you remember why you love---because it feels amazing. Also, the kind that reminds you why it’s hard to let go---because it feels amazing.

The night I wrote the story, I felt their love so strongly.  I felt how he missed her and how he did everything to make their time together the best it could be. And I felt how much she appreciated it…how much she appreciated him.

She was living with Alzheimer’s disease in her home in the middle of the woods of Maine when Andrew moved in. My grandfather had died a few years prior and she had been living her life to the fullest since, but with the onset of Alzheimer’s, no one wanted her to be alone. My brother lived there for a period as well. Both he and Andrew cared for her as long as they could as they were going through their own life transitions.

Her vibrant spirit and strong independence was shifting. She was going downhill and life was hard for her. I would call her on my way home from work and tell her the same jokes each day because I knew she didn’t remember them from the day before. And she would laugh- every time. Same jokes, same response.

I just wanted to make her smile.

She would complain that she knew her memory was going and it was so frustrating. I hurt for her. It hurt me that she hurt. So I told her that she was living the dream…she was living in the moment, because that’s all she had.

But for me, it was painful.  I just wanted to take her pain away. I loved her so very much. The idea of her suffering was awful.

I was grateful Andrew was there. His humor, his personality, his dedication to our grandmother was unmatched. He would come home from his job on the ambulance and tell Gram of his adventures in the field. Having volunteered on an ambulance herself after retirement, she was eager to hear his stories.

She craved adventure as much as he did and they would share a glass of whiskey as he told his tales of the day.  And Andrew, the charismatic and funny man that he is, is an excellent story teller. No doubt she took it all in, happy to live through the bloodline she created. Appreciative to experience life through the eyes of love and admiration.

I tear up nearly every time I read the story. I’m sure at some point I won’t. But for now, I still feel the intensity of the love and the loss and the exquisite beauty that comes with it.

While the book was coming to life this past fall and early winter, my beloved aunt, Andrew’s mom, was dying. I’ve accepted that I cannot find words that best describe my aunt. Her pure spirit and genuine kindness frame the most giving soul I’ve ever met. She is simply- love- in its truest form.

The kind of love that makes you remember why we love---because it feels amazing. Also, the kind that reminds you why it’s hard to let go---because it feels amazing.

I can’t capture the magnitude of her loss- it runs too deep- but I can say that the timeliness of having our family together to help me critique the character images in the book was impeccable. Sharing our views as we bonded over our pain while I saw my beautiful aunt for the last time----Serendipitous.

Again, Divine timing at its finest.

The journey of bringing a vision to life is quite an adventure. And I love me some adventure. Even the sucky parts.

I’m thrilled to share the legacy of my family. One of immense respect, loyalty, love of living and an unwavering commitment to make our dreams come true.

Thanks for sharing Gram and Andrew. Love you from the deepest parts of my heart.