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Month: December 2016

Month: December 2016

I Resolve

I pull out the well-worn writing notebook I keep in my bedside table.  It is in these pages that I find notes from throughout the years, written visions I prepare at the end of one year – forecasting what I would most like to see in the next, and a summary of accomplishments, failures, and events from the years prior.  I carve out a purpose filled hour to reflect on the lessons learned and how I want to better show up in the year ahead.    I set goals, I chose a word to guide me in the new year (2017
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Home for the Holidays

The biscotti baked, the bows on the boxes, and the Christmas brunch menu planned, I was happy as I awaited the one time a year when my sons return home from opposite coasts. My joy evaporated when one of my homeward bound boys got stuck in an airport over a thousand miles away. There were a dozen other passengers ahead of him, each desperately hoping to get a seat on the next flight out. I commanded my sinking heart to rise up and listen to my rational mind.  He’s an adult. He’s capable. He’ll figure it out. He’s lived away
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The Stocking

I have pulled it out of the red and green-topped box each year since my divorce.   The sole stocking left among my divorce residue  – a reminder of my divided family.  It is the stocking purchased when the dream of my future family was thriving.  I bought four stockings together, perhaps foolishly, during the pregnancy of my first daughter.  I was hopeful from the beginning she would have a sibling.  The first Christmas after she was born, I had the stockings monogrammed “Mom,” “Dad,” and “Anna.”  I left the last blank until the time came that eventually our Sophia would
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Peaceful Place

“Do you have plans for the holidays?” she asked, breaking the ice at the business lunch. “We’re traveling to Boston.” “We like to keep it relaxed.” “We’ll enjoy a lot of traditions.” “I’m hosting my family.” Spanning over 20 years in age, each was a divorced mom with children. Two married anew, one who remained single, and me, remarried and now widowed.  As the wait staff took orders for the soup of the day and salad with salmon, each shared a little more. “Neither of us ever go back home for Christmas.” “We alternate Christmas Eve with Christmas Day.” “My
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Transitioning Traditions

It was quiet Thanksgiving morning.  My kitchen was void of the warmth and scent of stuffing and turkey cooking in the oven.  I trudged down the stairs to get the super- ad-stuffed newspaper to peruse while watching the parade.  This, the first time it felt like a chore.  I felt off – cranky, sad, and alone.   My girls were in Texas with their dad and paternal grandparents for the Thanksgiving holiday.  I was home alone in Nebraska left with my woe-is-me thoughts as my only comfort. Holidays are hard.   This refrain is a reality for most, but not all, divorced
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