CHAPTER ONE

A PRIVILEGE AND AN ADVENTURE

Speak of what you witness. The pains, pardons, and phenomenal joys. Scared or in blissful awe. Take off your shoes and linger on holy ground.

Live a life of exclamation, observation, and restoration, for you are exquisitely welcome in this world.

“What’s shaking, chiefy baby?”

It’s said this was the customary greeting offered by United States Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall to Chief Justice Warren Burger.

On reverent, marbled walkways or along crumbling, unsteady paths, a smile is a mighty spark. We rekindle the world by lighting one person at a time.

Justice Marshall, the grandson of a slave who became an icon of civil rights and social reform, had a sense of humor and understood our call for companionship. This light-bearing pioneer and life-long learner aptly observed how certain people have a way of saying things that shake us at the core. They do, and profound power rests in our reply.

In the midst of our wandering through hallowed halls, perhaps wrestling with darkness, someone brings little pieces of light to rekindle our souls and remind us that life is a wonderful privilege and a grand adventure.

It’s time to awaken the awe inside you.

Your whole life is a life worth living.

Here. Now. Us. This is where great wonder resides. Abundance awaits in the present, and yet we tend to long for what is ahead or behind. The quest for wholeness – fullness and meaning - is soul-stirring, awakening us to delight in the day; to be the joy in lowly and lofty places alike; and to become radical listeners who walk in humor and humility with grit, grace, hope, and love. Our constant rush, egos, and fatigue obstruct the ideal. We repeatedly plunge into self-made prisons because we do not repair fresh scratches, unresolved grief, and old wounds.

Sometimes we get so caught up in researching DNA ancestry to connect with our past, we forget to cross the room and heal our present. We go on herculean trips to aid in other lands when people in our city, neighborhood, and family rooms hunger for kinship. Life is an invitation to love. Not just love the ones who smell good and look good. We are called to lavish kindness on the obscure, forsaken, marginalized, confused, wayward, and disagreeable. All of us, for brief, frantic, traffic-filled, coffee ordering moments or enduring generations, share life.

You are a brave peacemaker and noble warrior. You are a formidable force and tender caregiver, for you are alive, and every day you choose to act out of love or fear; out of resurgence or exhaustion; out of mercy or insecurity. We are interwoven, connected people who are not called to unilaterally fit in, but are instead called to grow in grit, grace, hope, and love, through and with unique, special, glorious design.

Seeking wholeness is the grand expression of love. We awaken to the astounding, awe-inspiring life we are born to live. We stop doubting. We come alive.

It’s time to crawl out of the hole.

Escape from the lies we let in.

Our minds can become our tomb.

Grit, grace, hope, and love are the keys to breaking free.

A few weeks ago, I had a night we all know well, for I couldn’t sleep and began scrolling through news feeds. I saw a report of a rescued cat. The news photo captivated me before the headline did. Somehow this fuzzy creature got herself stuck atop a tall utility pole. She got up but couldn’t get down. The image of this cat precariously stranded embodies all of us who have ever muttered to ourselves, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Calls flooded 911 operators seeking aid for the fragile feline. She perched high above with all four paws clinging for life while waiting for help. Rescue arrived via firefighters who climbed up the live power pole to bring her down to safety. They carried her into the arms of her thankful family. And the story ends. Or perhaps it magnificently begins.

We know what it’s like to feel alone, hurting, and even afraid. We see life bounding on while we are saddled with momentary troubles. We miss the way out and then along comes support – a safe landing, a small gesture of kindness, a helping hand - assuring we are not alone.

Cat rescues can only captivate for so long. I couldn’t sleep that night because I was sitting beside our oldest son, Jack. He was in the hospital fighting a serious allergic reaction to antibiotics.

He was in pain. I touched his cheek. Held his hand. I got close and whispered, “We’re all in this with you. Your dad, me, your brother, and sisters, we love you. It is an honor, joy, and privilege to love you.”

He asked about Grace.

She was in a hospital room on the floor above us. Grace was dying.

He didn’t know Grace personally; he just knew of her as we’d prayed for her and spoke of her journey. She was a well-loved, well-known child in our community. We never expected to find ourselves in a hospital room nearby. People seldom do.

When Jack was born, researchers wrote of all the exciting dreams for these babies born in the new millennium. We were told the life expectancy for this generation would bump to age 105. On different occasions, I’ve told our kids that 105 seems a good target age for me as long as I have my teeth, mind, mobility, and a bit of hair.

In this early morning hour, I said, “Jack, sweet Grace is not going home again, but you are, my boy. You’ll be going home until you are 105.”

“Now, you’ve got to fight for home.”

Those words stayed with me, as if it was a call for myself and not just for my sick child.

“You’ve got to fight for home.”

He did.

He does.

He is home.

Together we found something sacred in the scary. With grit, grace, hope, and love you will find sacred in the rough, mundane, and marvelous.

There was a washer and dryer in the hospital. Not cramped in a basement, but on the surgical floor in a kitchen designed for families and caregivers. The hard reality is you and I cannot fix every ache, hurt, and pain. In the middle of the night, a worried parent cannot immediately heal his child’s wound, but he can do a load of laundry. He can repair the problem of stinky clothes amassed in a long hospital stay. He can do a healing thing because others first saw the need and provided solutions. Loving acts make us human. An easily accessible kitchen with hot coffee, cups, ice water, and snacks at the ready in the middle of the night let people know someone cares. Small acts, providing a quiet assuring presence, impacting generations to come.

There is a false narrative found in movie depictions of law school students illustrating the bulk of their experience is polishing oration and argumentative skills. In reality, heavy focus is placed on writing persuasive arguments. At my beloved alma mater, we were encouraged to refrain from beginning sentences with small, transitional phrases, such as “but,” because some deem them weak segues. There are times when this small word makes a powerful influential distinction, particularly when it is used to delineate a person who makes a poignant, enduring choice.

Centuries carry stories of people who chose to stand, stay, and resolve. In a land north of Jerusalem, there is an account of a woman named Naomi who lost everything – her husband, two sons, food sources, and security. Knowing her lot was likely starvation, isolation, and death, she urged her daughters-in-law to go back to their lands to be with their people. One, named Orpah, understandably went on, bidding goodbye. The other, a young woman named Ruth, would not leave.

Two women who had no power, stature or conceivable hope remained together in a barren plight. Collectively they had nothing. Despite her mother-in-law’s persistent pleas to save herself by running to the arms of her birth family, Ruth would not go, and her adamant, gritty decision to stay is recorded by beginning with these two words, “But Ruth…”

Anyone else would go, but Ruth chose to remain, and in doing so changed generations. Her profession of faith and declaration of love begins with beautiful individualism, “But Ruth.”

First year law students are often encouraged to debate whether Good Samaritan laws should be enforced. The interrogatories seek insight on if we should have laws in place to encourage assistance for those in peril. Are we obliged to aid or call for help? Are there repercussions for leaving someone to die, offering negligent care, or giving good faith aid at the scene of an accident? Hospitals and places of respite are sometimes named “Good Samaritan,” though we might miss the story behind the name.

The parable proceeds with news of a wounded man, beaten and robbed, left unable to speak and near death by the side of a treacherous road. To stop and render aid would put the helper in danger and deem them unclean to conduct their work and support their community and family.

Finally, a fellow comes upon the scene who is considered worthless, derelict by many because of his heritage. The assumption would be that no good could possibly come from his lot, and yet the story shifts from despair to hope with three words, “But the Samaritan…” The seemingly least likely lifts up the battered, voiceless stranger, attends to his wounds and carries him to a place of rest and long-term care, paying for his stay and checking on him as he heals.

And so, I say to you and to me for our whole lives, may we claim the incredible power of a small transitional word declaring that we will choose to do the right, audacious thing even when it is scary to do so.

All may plug along in woe, weakness or strife.

But Ruth.

But the Samaritan.

But you.

But me.

We can make an astounding difference for our whole lives. Our choice to love is a choice to heal, revive, and breakthrough.

We are allies, sometimes estranged in barren lands, tethered to a connected band of luminous humanity. We can let compassion and indignation rest in the same heart, making ourselves, others, and situations better with humility and thoughtful listening.

Late at night when I write, I like to wear my dad’s old sweatshirt. The sleeves are fraying. Letters once heralding his alma mater are fading. I put it on and am comfortable and comforted. At the end of his life, on dialysis, Dad still viewed his days as a privilege and an adventure. Ornery, obstinate, bounding with joy and amazing ideas, faithful, inspirational, tired, gracious, confused – he was all of these and more, and so are we at times, and the greatest way to proceed is with rituals of grit, grace, hope, and love.

Quit waiting for your whole life to unfold. Go live out your joy. It is time for you to discover how capable and wonderful you truly are, whether lighting a candle or lighting a life.

Unsure of where to start? Begin with grit, grace, hope, and love.

On April 26, 1777, a midnight rider alerted militia forces the British were coming. Sixteen-year-old, Sybil Ludington, rode further than Paul Revere to save lives during the Revolutionary War.

Few know her story. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow never wrote of her tale.

He missed the captivating rhythm of her ride.

Sybil used a stick to beat back tree branches, brush, and those who tried to stop her call.

Her impact lives on.

She rode a privilege and an adventure.

Several years ago, a little girl joined a foster family. She suffered horrible abuse at night in her bedroom, and so each evening as her foster mother came into her new, safe, sacred bedroom to read a story, her foster father stayed in the doorway. He stood in that doorway every evening for a year, hearing the stories and goodnight songs. He honored this child, by reclaiming a sanctuary, a holy ground. He saw her as privilege and adventure.

Your whole life is hallowed ground.

Your failures, falls, and missteps are foundations for greater victories beyond your imagination. But you have to get up and ride. Intercede on behalf of others. We espouse principles in heated moments on social media, but people will know us by our daily grit, grace, hope, and love.

By grit, grace, hope, and love we know our whole beautiful selves.

And we are not ashamed by what we see.

There are wonderful works we are all called to do. Let go of limits. Set aside barriers and let’s dive in together into glorious, awesome, positive “what if’s” for your whole life.

For what if Sally never rode? What if a family never rescued? What if the teacher, parent, caregiver, sister, brother, doctor, solider, pastor, leader, friend, or stranger never offered you a vulnerable space filled with loving compassion? What if you never completed all you are wonderfully called to do?

We’d all miss out on something grand and luminous impacting generations to come.

Do not worry about what you cannot yet see.

Believe in the privilege and adventure of your whole life.

A familiar hymn to people of all sorts of faiths and backgrounds, proclaims “grace will lead us home.”

My hope, dear reader, is you will discover how grit, grace, hope, and love will lead you to your beautiful, phenomenal whole life.

Out of absolute darkness, void, stillness, nothing, seeming impossibility - life takes hold.

We gather with gratitude, joy, grumpiness, grumbling, and wonder. We help our neighbors, rolling away stones, sharing meals and time. We separate and bounce back. We miss things. We hurt. We learn. We grow. Together, we find the glorious way.

We see today is wonderful for today we can begin.

CHAPTER TWO

KALEIDOSCOPE

Our youngest races home with an award from school. Beaming with excitement, she hands me the certificate honoring the trait: HIGHLY INQUISITIVE.

As I admire the recognition, she confidently declares, “I’m highly questionable.”

Courageous shifts to dubious.

In an instant we miss a revelation. Revelations ignite revolutions. Love is the world’s greatest ongoing revolution setting souls free.

For your whole life, you are so loved, and you are enough.

If you go no further than this single line, I want you to know you hold a permeating, abiding, unfailing assurance.

You are so loved. Accepting this truth is a revolution of the heart.

This is boundless, soul-thriving love. It is the truth of humankind—the affirmation that you are wonderfully made and worthy. It is not contingent on you becoming more than you already are, and it is not perfected by an ideal selfie. It is not performance-based.

You are on this earth with energy, blood, and oxygen coursing through your body. You are created for love. You are designed to love. Not just intimacy; a love compelling you to grasp the totality of providence and know you are exceptional, and you are vitally needed in this world.

Not when you reach the goal or conquer a dream.

Now. Right now, as you are—in chaos, confusion or joy.

Love, or the absence of it, is at the core of everything. Lies, omissions, rejection, spite, rousing hate—each are typically rooted in pain. There is great temptation for us to tear people apart, particularly in the expediency of posts and texts. Belittling offers a false sense of power. We impulsively fire off cannons when a deep breath and pause will do. If you are on the receiving end of a destructive force, you may question your rare and valuable worth. Don’t. Don’t get sucked in to their ache.

We’re going to muck things up occasionally by mistake, with intention, or with misplaced anger.

The question is: How do we do wrong well?

The answer is: With love.

For when crises and cancers seek to crush our souls, love has a might of its own. We are bound by love’s unshakable force.

My dad would often say, “Go for the gusto!” It was a call to capture dreams; to build bridges; and to love. Without love, compassion, and care, we can’t fully process our feelings. We block ourselves from meaningful, healthy friendships. We get stuck in a rut of yuck.

Loving people delight in life and find joy in seeing others excel. They are not afraid to encourage the best in people. They do not fear someone else’s success. They create wholeness. They are not afraid of tears.

Love is what we should leave behind when we exit a room or conversation.

To become all we are incredibly called to be, we must depend more on love.

We can lean into indignation. We can lean into worry.

But we will miss the miraculous awes.

Above all else, love endures.

For me, soul-thriving love is inherent in my faith. Stephen Hawking, who contended he had no religious beliefs, still found love’s awe. He observed, “It would not be much of a universe if it wasn’t home to people you love.”

Despite differences. Regardless of assets and inequities, we share a common thread of abiding love. Even with bone crushing cruelties, breathtaking kindness encircles humanity. Love is respite and refuge.

We spend so much time knocking around, looking for purpose and meaning when the call for our lives is to love.

Are you thinking, “Wait a minute, Sarah. Have you met my neighbor? My boss? My sister? The gate agent as my flight is delayed another hour?”

It’s easier to soak in this certainty when you are on vacation breathing in ocean air while viewing a gorgeous blue sky. Hard to hold as you are swallowed by irritation, frustration or doubt.

Complicated. Elusive. Lost. It’s tough to shake off loud opinions predicting what you will never be or one declaring what you shouldn’t become. Insecurities run amuck. There are also the goofy mishaps that shouldn’t bother us, yet they do. We let them obstruct love’s truth.

A few weeks ago, my family and I were finishing lunch at a restaurant. I saw a friend coming in with his family as we were leaving. I stopped to say hello. I don’t see this friend often. We chatted while he held his daughter in his arms. She was clutching a teddy bear and dropped it on the ground. I leaned down, picked it up, kept on talking, and handed her the bear. We said goodbye and it wasn’t until I headed to the car that I realized my blouse had come half-way unbuttoned during the bear rescue. Four buttons sprang free and so did more of me.

Bra out. Not so loved. Not so worthy.

But I am.

You are.

He is.

They are.

All of us carry a longing for love, dignity, and worth. We seek it, though it is already here.

You are so loved. This should be the triumphant fact for every facet of your day, and believing it is the most powerful thing you can ever do.

Messed-up. Imperfect. Flawed. Just as you are, you are enough.

True, today you are unlikely able to summit a mountainous dream, however, you can begin readying for the climb. Go. Stretch beyond your inward boundaries. Play in the stretch. Stop worrying about failing or falling and focus on becoming. Don’t let the world miss out on the wonderfulness inside you – even if your heart is racing and your knees are wobbly.

Wholeness is not dependent on time, circumstance or outcomes. Wholeness rests in how we endure, savor, and experience life.

Go. Start. Become.

Studies are published at rapid rates and their results can fill us with fleeting pride. Headlines captivate with conclusions:

“Being barefoot boosts brain development.”

“Women with big butts are smarter and healthier.”

“Chocolate and champagne may elevate mood and extend life.”

“Nagging mothers raise more successful daughters.”

“Going to concerts and running late helps you live longer.”

“Posting pictures of food makes it taste better.”

Given these determinations, my reply to life is a resounding:

“Okay, I’ve got this!”

(Except for the food posting. I suppose I’m slacking and lacking there.)

Without digging into methodologies, we accept these affirmations, whether founded or simply fun. Then life sets in.

Calendar overloads. Unending to-dos.

Weight gain. Sleep loss. Comparison.

Rudeness. Snarky texts.

An extended family member faces another crisis.

A friend, a job, a hope doesn’t come through.

Accepting you are so loved - no matter ups and downs, acclaims or drains - is the first step to wholeness, awakening the incredible awesomeness inside you. Believing you are so loved helps quash the noise and garbage bombarding your head - and social media feeds.

Love combats the agony of “un.”

Love is a beautiful word of life.

You are a beautiful word of life.

Love needs no qualifiers. We add them attempting to contain what cannot be bound.

Unloved. Unworthy. Unfinished.

In one of my father’s favorite books about love, I found a slip of paper where he had written: We know the agony of unfinished things – hovering around like some sort of specter; there, but not completely dealt with.

We know the agony of unfinished things. A symphony. A work of art. A dream. There are waiting times, when we have no control. The idea - the diagnosis - the answer is not yet formed. Life also brings opportunities to re-do things we thought were complete.

Love brings hope. Carries us to conquer. Empowers us to win in ways we never conceived. It reminds me of a collegiate softball game. Two teams competing in a tense doubleheader. A senior at bat mightily swings and hits it out of the park, a homerun. All she needs to do is round the bases, but an injury makes it impossible. Hopping or walking is excruciating. She can’t go on and her team will forfeit the run. Coaches and umpires convene. Then the opposing team does something remarkable. They set aside their egos and carry their opponent around the bases to home. The run counts. The results are far beyond anything on a scoreboard. Valor is the victor.

Love brought this athlete home.

Love brings us home.

Wholeness is a joy-seeking quest to discover what you are running from, to, and why. Love is in motion - even in our stillness, fervent progression, dodging or wandering. Love carries.

Love is our survival and meaning for a whole life.

William Shakespeare declared, “Love is holy.” He wrote of glitter and gold, killing all the lawyers, and backlit balconies. Did he tell the greatest love story? Is it yet to unfold? Or it is ongoing and in all of us?

Exhaustion, tears, and loneliness are proofs of life. They signal we are alive. Our transformations begin in giving and receiving care.

How often do we sit at work or at home and consider, “What is the most loving thing to do?”

How would putting love first change decisions, outcomes, and attitudes?

Believe in love’s capacity. Act on it. When corporate executives declare they achieve success by increasing empathy, respect, and response time, it means they are leading in love. A family, a team, a marriage focused on being people of “Yes!” all thrive in love. This doesn’t mean “no” is love’s opposition. Rather, it is the choice to begin a hard discussion or a difficult task with believing all that is stunningly possible. Love lets us look at others in their humanness. We see individuals as someone’s daughter, someone’s son, someone’s beloved. The best teams arise when we know as much about each other as human beings as we do about each other’s roles. Love shapes how we communicate, collaborate, and achieve.

In the midst of our undoing, love fastens our wholeness – if we let it in.

Love is the revolutionary catalyst for building a whole life.

Love is an underutilized attribute at work offering the most return on investment. Have you ever known a boss who fires an employee in such a way that the individual impacted leaves with gratitude and hope instead of anger and fear? This leader keeps love out front when life gets hard.

Want to radically uptick the chance of your child becoming a happy, content adult? Be a parent who persists in love. Further their meaningful, individual whole lives without constructing a perfected path.

The seminal differentiator for resilient people who flourish and thrive is having a consistent, warm, loving person in their lives.

Your choices shape knights and nations.

The durable power.

Love is a life of beautifully onward.

Sitting beside people. Speaking truths without destroying. Choosing to go and do instead of waiting for instruction. There is beauty in grief, tears, and disappointment, just as there is beauty in awe and wonder. It grows as we gather together and care for each other.

Do you consider love a weakness?

A cry of the needy and whiny?

A tryst?

Or something set aside for faith, family, and close friends?

The boundless, soul-thriving love and worthiness that is true for every one of us are requisites for becoming our most powerful, authentic, wondrous selves.

This isn’t fluff. It isn’t something we should deny or ignore.

We seek love when we need it most, failing to realize the compelling, formidable strength we can hold every day.

It’s easy to love people who warm us.

Love comes less quickly when it seems some lives and deaths get more coverage, compassion, and care. Bad things happen to good people, and good people can do dumb, awful things. We lose our patience. Loving requires learning and practice.

The world is full of loving people. If ever you can’t find one, be one. With your spark, more will light come.

We conquer life with love.

Be a lamp, a lifeboat, a ladder. Help someone’s soul heal. Walk out of your house like a shepherd.

- RUMI

Loving oneself is crucial. If we do not love ourselves, how can we love others?

- DALAI LAMA

When you are kind to others, it not only changes you, it changes the world.

- HAROLD S. KUSHNER

Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply.

- PAUL’S WRITINGS IN ROMANS 12:9-10

Parents, poets, patriots, prisoners, people at podiums and pulpits, those suffering and conquering, the strangers among us encouraging a smile - all share a unifying core: we conquer life with love. To wield love, you must first accept it. Varied faiths and beliefs shape our walk. I am a minister’s daughter. I grew up seeing love’s presence in action. Dad helped mend people torn apart in political, financial, and emotional stress with his loving presence. He offered acceptance, respect, and a marvelous laugh. He spoke hard truths against racism and violence. He loved imperfectly.

We all do.

Each of us has the capacity to live a whole life that is a revelation of love. And love becomes radical when you see its grand work coming through others. It is a profound gift to witness someone grow into what they were beautifully born to do. We are all unique. No matter our similarities and shared views, we are all distinctly, gloriously different. We get riled up sometimes. We may be right, or we might be so very tired and worried about other things far beyond this immediate irritation.

I texted my friend Sydney the other day. “I’m so frustrated by incompetency and lack of customer service!”

Sydney lives in another state. She has her own joys and burdens. She stopped whatever she was doing, and replied, “Wait. I’m calling you now.”

She listened. She poured on hope. She nudged me onward.

As I thanked her, she closed with a powerful phrase: “We’re in this together.”

All of us are in this life together, but we don’t always love our togetherness. Space is often the loveliest thing needed between people.

Help is on the way.

Love asks, “Are you okay?” And bravely waits for the reply.

Love’s restoration begins within.

Believing you are so loved heals scars – the marks left by childhood, a co-worker, a spouse, a friend, a family member, and the ones that are self-inflicted.

Soul-thriving love is what binds us to rally, rescue, and restore when life rattles us.

Maybe you’ve known this throughout your life. Your mom’s hug enveloped you with security from the onset, making you aware, safe, and understanding all would be okay. Maybe you never had this assurance or someone you trusted tried to break your worth and wonder. But your worthiness was never based on someone else’s affection or rejection. Trauma tramples. Love heals.

Understanding you are so loved empowers you with the gift to shake and shape the world. You are a conquering warrior and gentle peacemaker the moment you step into this truth.

You are the person for such a time as this.

The whole of you - as you are, where you are - is enough, and you are so loved.

Love is the most powerful force in life and work. Loving decisions build lasting nations and corporate giants. Families break cycles of pain, violence, and neglect through one member claiming love’s choice and declaring, “This garbage has to stop!”

Love lets us break free. To flourish or languish seems an easy choice, but thriving wholly and fully requires difficult, bold, wondrous love. Love is easy or can make you nauseous and uncomfortable depending on the room, situation, and recipient.

Love defines us. Love creates enduring legacy.

If it is all this, and more, why do we ignore it, isolate it, and discard it instead of lassoing and utilizing love’s full capacity?

Crossing thresholds, we shift from work to life, back and forth. Our hope is to shut down one while entering the other. In hand is the convergent and divergent – a cell phone. We begin work and life calls. We embrace life and work summons.

One of the hardest and least discussed transitions is “entering in and leaving behind.” A view of the compartmentalization of me. I walk in the door and the kids deserve my undivided attention. I wrap my arms around them still clasping my phone, vibrating with an urgent need. Urgency is relative, each of us determining the hierarchy and health of replies. I head into work thinking about a child’s worry or the important talk my husband and I did not finish. We are supposed to set things aside as we fluctuate among our numerous niches and roles, even though everything intertwines. Work me and home me should be the same me. Shared vulnerabilities and intimacies vary; however, the overarching triumphant connection is choosing love.

Love is the call of life, but sadly we are trained to leave love outside work’s door. Love is the vital spark to every worthy gain. Work and home come alive with love. Love’s magnificence isn’t zapped because you happen to be sitting in a boardroom. Acts and words woven with love are the strongest influencers affecting a family, team, or company. This is not “mushy babying” or an office affair. This is a battle plan for warriors – speak truth in love, with love, blending in laughter, grit, grace, and hope.

Love is not weak. It is the long-tailed, arduous, glorious work of the brave.

Love is our highest and hardest calling.

Beliefs affect every experience. Henri Nouwen aptly described daily ups and downs, “A little criticism makes me angry and a little rejection makes me depressed. A little praise can lift my spirits, and a little success excites me. It takes very little to raise me up or down.”

We all know this pattern in varying degrees. Your day is humming along beautifully - affirmation in meetings, goals on track, swipes through social media garner hearts and shares, and then “Wham!” A call or text with a friend goes sideways when she says something off-topic and hurtful. A client asks for your insight and then doesn’t like your reply, so he escalates the issue to your boss who does not back your idea. At an event, someone you trusted and admired offers your original ideas as her own. Or you simply screw up. Spill drinks on a date. Send a reply meant for one, to all. Overspend or overshare out of insecurity and envy.

These acts gnaw and gnash. They cut, seep in, and cling tenaciously to our tender spots. We allow them to stick. We forget who we are.

Whenever in despair, go back to this truth - you are so loved and you are enough.

This is what defines you.

Beauty reigns in imperfection. Looking through a kaleidoscope we see breathtaking art lasting only a moment before the next original array takes shape. The word kaleidoscope derives from Greek origins meaning “beautiful form to see.” With light, mirrors, and symmetry, ordinary objects, like broken glass, transform into spectacular designs.

You are the kaleidoscope of life, so stunning to behold. You are a beautiful form to see.

Love sees our magnificent, revolutionary truth - we are beautifully broken and astoundingly whole. Love restores fractured shards and transforms polished pieces through persistent turning.

Remember.

Remind others.

For it applies to all.

CHAPTER THREE

YET I

For your whole life –

You are not alone.

You are called to carry.

You are welcome.

Be light. Be bold. Be brave.

Embrace “Yet I”

1. You are not alone.

One of the best things to hear and know is, “Me, too.” Two words echoed and the weight of isolating worry subsides. Throughout each day, there are people providing small reminders of kinship.

“Oh, it’s not just me. You, too?” This is sacred relief. Prized connection. Everything changes because in that moment we are no longer alone.

You get me. I get you. We are in this together.

Acknowledged without sarcasm and coupled with simple actions, it is an assurance: “I’m here beside you.”

One night I was sitting in the hospital by our son Henry’s bedside. It was 3:00 am, a few hours after emergency surgery. I closed my eyes trying to rest, although sleep would not come. The door opened, and a nurse entered quietly. She checked Henry’s vitals and gently pulled his blanket back to assess bandages and wounds. I caught her eyes briefly to make sure all was okay. My breath came heavy, like my heart and head. Earlier I had encouraged my husband to go home to our other children for a few hours. He did not want to leave us. I understood.

The nurse attended to her patient. I closed my eyes to rest.

Attend. Such a powerful, beautiful word. Attending to others, caring for one another, assuring we are not alone. My tired body wrestled with worry and gratitude as I sat in that small hospital room. And then warmth covered me. A blanket swaddled my whole body. Without a word, my son’s nurse covered me with love and assurance. This astounding, quiet caregiver attended to her patient and then attended to me. She intentionally walked in with a warm blanket to ease pain – his and mine. I was dumbfounded by the blessing of this unexpected, small act. She did not ask permission. She acted as she felt led. Perhaps she considered this simple action ordinary. Somewhere, somehow, someone determined parents sitting at hospital bedsides in the middle of night could draw strength, faith, and courage from a warmed blanket. Her purposeful steps, caring for my son and then loving on me, filled my heart. Had she offered the covering in the morning or afternoon I would have respectfully declined. She offered warmth when I did not know I needed it most and when I was most likely to accept it. Without ever speaking a word, she cloaked me with comfort. She gave assurance and grace. It wasn’t something I earned; it was something I needed. This nurse let me know we were bound in the business of healing. I wish I could remember her name. She was the essence of love on that lonely night. Her work was grace. I am thankful still.

Your whole life doesn’t happen in isolation. We were not meant to do this alone. While Frank Sinatra beautifully sang about doing it “his way,” we are all impacted by each other’s decisions. In the hospital, awaiting whatever to come, my way was to sit beside our boy. Another way gave me strength beyond expectation. Both were quiet acts in darkness. Together, we shared light.

2. You are called to carry.

What stirs your spirit is integral to what makes you whole. But we don’t need one more quip suggesting “just find your passion.” Frequently you must do what is right in front of you. “Have to” and “want to” are often at odds. Attitude is an aid or culprit.

To better understand what makes us whole, we need to broaden our “I am” qualifiers. I am a mom. I am a wife. I am a writer. I am a CEO and consultant. I am a friend. I am an attorney. I am an advocate. I am a daughter and sister. I am a person of faith. I am a listener. I am a woman cautiously watching my neck and arms rapidly change while also being somewhat concerned that aging and dark chocolate may cause my chest to envelope into my lap, but not so much as to put the chocolate down. I am a driver of sweaty, smelly, beloved kids to practices. I am a purveyor of joy, impromptu dance moves, and baking pies on Pi day (3.14). I am a social media monitor. I am a frustrated laundress and seamstress, but a strong 11:00 pm problem solver. I am vulnerable, fearless, fragile, and vigilant. I am tired and worried. I am uncertain in a new role. I am resilient. I am a leader and servant.

I am conflicted, particularly when I should go to bed and then choose to watch one more episode. I am warmly cradled at the sight of my family doing simple things together. I am washed with gratitude as we organize, clean, and purge, and then I’m woken from tidy bliss by trying to buy large storage containers with matching lids. With these cumbersome essentials often tucked in the corner of a retail store, far from a coffee counter or employee or emergency call button, it makes heading to the front for purchase a death-defying shopping cart ride.

Some “I am’s” are fluid. Others come and hold our hearts forever. They are wonderful, rewarding, and difficult. Intermittently uncomfortable at first. They are parts of the aggregate of me. They are parts of my purpose and what I carry. The same is true for you. There is unrivaled, untapped strength resting within for all you are called to carry.

You and I share “I am’s.” I am loved. I am able. You are too.

Becoming whole, growing in grit, grace, hope, and love, we learn how to carry each other. The weight of what we hold shifts. Sometimes the load is light, sometimes it is more than we think we can bear. To live a whole life, we carry each other.

We bring restoration and relief.

We elevate this call to a gift when we view carrying each other as “get to” in lieu of “have to.”

“We get to” – with three words, a burden becomes a blessing.

You and I get to live this beautiful, bountiful, barren, burdensome, bubbly life together. We get to be and become. We get to carry each other.

Living a whole life lifts us from indifference to empathy.