Release and Peace

As we were led to our space for the day we each had our own room, my room was named Simplicity, which was a proper theme for the current direction of my life.


Goodman’s quote is appropriate on this Easter Sunday morning. Spring is the season of possibilities.

Tiny but Mighty Voices

This vociferous seesaw keeps us teetering between the person we know we are and the person we think we need to be. The latter grounded in the expectations of others, the former grounded in our own truth.

Quiet car cop

I avoid riding the quiet car in the morning after being admonished by a self appointed “Quiet Cop” some months ago. I half realized that I boarded the quiet car…

Restart | Day ? of?

“The most effective way to do it, is to do it.” Amelia Earhart The negotiations began in earnest. A – b + c – e = d Write, skip yoga,…

Rehearsal | Day 38 of 122

I wouldn’t call my conversations with myself futile though, even if the practice appears insane, because it helps me think about my words and how they will be delivered to the audience.

24 miles | Day 32 of 120

January 2. Heavy sigh. The world is restarting its routines, evidenced by thrice the number of cars in the Metra commuter lot this morning. Once on board the train I…

Prompt| Day 27 of 120

“Follow your instincts. That’s where true wisdom manifests itself.” Oprah Winfrey An early morning meeting, meant an early morning train, meant no 6 a.m. yoga at Essencia this Friday. The…

Acceptance | Day 24 of 120

“For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.” Ralph Waldo Emerson It’s Christmas. Emerson’s quote was spot on today. I started to write…

Fifteen minutes | Day 22 of 120

“Ladies and gentlemen, please check your carts. If you are walking around with someone else’s cart, please kindly return it to the butcher where its lawful owner will reclaim it. Thank you.”

Barbed Wire | Day 13 of 120

I think December makes me acutely aware of that from which I feel trapped. It’s place in the evolution of the calendar year nudges us to look back and forward. Both directions bear weight.

My Daisy | Day 9 of 120

I am grateful for significant moments memorialized thanks to a picture. The featured picture was taken by my ex-husband.  Our daughter, Bridget, and I were chewing ice cubes and talking…

Stink bugs | Day 6 of 120

“Momma, momma, I think something bit me,” my daughter yelled.  My inquiry was shushed as she pulled the sleeve of her sweatshirt back from her wrist, and exposed a large…

Interview Question | Day 5 of 120

An exchange yesterday triggered a comical memory.  It happened when my colleague and I interviewed a candidate for a new member of our team and she asked the candidate an interesting…

Futilely Abandoned Anniversaries

The truth is, February is a game changer. I felt good that a marriage, a friend’s birthday, moving to Springfield, and so many positive events offset what happened in 1990. That was when I went to my resident adviser at Marquette University and told her that I sexually was assaulted by another student.

Taking on Step 11 Today

Note: I published my first draft last week. This is the version I will use today, Tuesday, January 30, when I lead my first Al-Anon class. The topic is Step…

Blue flowers and a red kitchen


Out of the mud the bluest flowers

open in the sun


without anger or regret; neither more or less than what it is, 

alive again and free.


No pity parties on Christmas

Yesterday morning I spoke with my sister and shared my blues about being alone Christmas Day. Bridget will be with her father today, and I am not making Christmas dinner, which we’ve always shared with my parents. I was dreading being alone. In spite of my little pep talk, about subtracting “no” and “can’t” from my vocabulary, I was falling right into the trap I desperately wanted to avoid: Self-pity.

Liminal Space

The threshold is God’s waiting room: Have you ever read something so lovely? I see the world through God’s eyes on walks with the dogs when I hear every bird, when I stop to appreciate the Hawk – in sheer awe of its wingspan –  hunting for prey, when I awake and stand at the window counting the different colors of the morning sunrise, when I take the dogs out for their last visit before bedtime and bask in the moonlight, when I kiss my daughter goodnight and tell her that I love her, and when I place my head on my pillow each night and thank God for every moment when he made his presence that day. This is the best waiting room ever.