Moving Day

Have you ever noticed how a little grace seems to make its way into every day?

That's the thought behind my new blog, I invite you to click here to check it out. You'll find all the posts from this blog in that new location, as well as some new features to (hopefully) make it easier to follow, comment and share the posts you like. In fact, you can sign up for email notifications of new posts, one click links to Twitter, Facebook and more.

Please feel free to comment any time you visit. I want to hear from you—particularly your stories of grace-filled moments, large and small.

See you there ~


Elizabeth, The Tree

I have the best next door neighbors in the world. Seriously. He's a doctor (who makes house calls, to my house). She's good at everything, especially if it's creative: interior design, scrapbooking, gardening, cooking. Plus they're just plain fun. They have two adorable children they happily loan to me anytime I am in the mood for some kid fun, a brand new swimming pool they are happy to sharea dog that swims laps, a wonderful deck that's perfect for let's just have a beer and talk it over, really great yard tools, and now: This.

 But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let's start with Elizabeth. She's a beauty. Strong roots,

a majestic canopy,

and, as you can see, the perfect branch for a swing. A gigantic swing, that hangs down 48 feet.

The swing of that swing, it goes on forever. And so I am quite certain I shall never feel stress again.

Macie and Hampton, the dynamic duo

Lemons and Sunshine and Everyday Love

in solidarity

There are many who believe digital communications will cause the slow death of any ability we have to connect human to human on a meaningful level.

I am not one of them.

Just this past Sunday, as I sat here desperately missing my now-at-college daughter, I clicked on the link to Very Truly, Julie. The blog's author is, like me, a writer and a creative director. Julie Marr and I have never met, but in the short few weeks I've read her posts, it's clear we have a lot in common.

The post offers a lovely account of the making of lemon bars for a brunch Julie attended that morning, hosted by her neighbors.

That's so funny, I thought to myself. I, too, had brunch with my neighbors this morning. But right now I am heartbroken and pathetic and surely incapable of homemade pastries. 

Then I read on.
The irony wasn't lost on me, while baking early this morning, that it felt like life had thrown a few lemons my way as we delivered Italia to her freshman year of college yesterday. The rational part of me is thrilled that she's launched into an exhilarating next chapter, but mostly I'm wondering where the sunshine will be without her clouds of perfume and constant smile, her inside/outside beauty and all of that everyday love.
The post left me breathless, and I left a heartfelt comment on Julie's blog and went to bed, feeling strangely comforted that another mother— whose life looks so much like mine—was also simply putting one foot in front of the other and marching through it: morning, into afternoon, into evening.

The next day I found a gentle Julie email in my inbox. She talked of kindred spirit moments and happiness on the other side of oh-so-difficult transitions, and she shared a beautiful post she had written the night before taking her son to college two years ago. She signed off:

love and a good week to you in lots of little, comforting ways.  it's going to get less raw.  keep the faith! 
I have thought of that email a thousand times this week and have felt its honesty at work in my own heart. And I've been deeply grateful for the (really quite random) digital connection that brought Very Truly and Julie into my rss feed, and my life, just when I needed them both.

People I love:

Stanley Tucci

Dinner for One

On Saturday, my husband and I drove a long 135 miles home after delivering our daughter to college.

I had approached the day with great joy and anticipation all summer long. She is attending my alma mater, Clemson University, and I know her experience there will be wonderful. I could not be more thrilled for her.

So I was gobsmacked when 10 miles after driving away—after taking her sweet face in my hands, looking in her eyes and saying, one more time—i am so excited for you—the tears started to fall. And I haven't been able to control them since.

As if prescribed by fate, my husband is traveling. So I came home from work today to a very empty house. In my former life (prior to yesterday), an evening alone was reason to rejoice. Popcorn for dinner; back to back to back Oprah; staying up way past the 10pm cutoff just because it's all up to me. But tonight was different, the first of thousands to come. And so I gathered the will to fix dinner, then to sit alone at the kitchen table to eat.

It was far from the most enjoyable meal of my life. But I made it through. And that, I believe, is reason enough to mark it.

Blog Love

So just after Day 26 of my 30 Days of Fun, this appeared in my mailbox.

But I am getting ahead of myself. This is actually what appeared in my mailbox.

The sender is someone I met when I spoke to a marketing class at Columbia International University a couple of years ago. She followed my advice: Don't be afraid to reach out to someone you respect if you are looking for advice. People are generally nice and happy to help. And we've stayed in touch.

Here's what I found inside, along with a note.

Thank you, Sarah Jane Gibson. I love this so much. It's proof that when kindness comes back to you, it is multiplied.

30 Days of Fun was inspired by one of my favorite blogs, Mighty Girl.