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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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Have To or Get to

It’s arrived. The time when I shift the focus of my attention from my big goals of the year to my most treasured season.  In the weeks ahead I get to fulfill my intention to be a gracious hostess for my family and friends. My tacky but treasured turkey napkin holders will accompany my china as I light taper candles on my linen covered Thanksgiving table set for my brothers and sisters and their families. Ten days later I host my big party of the year in memory of my late brother, Tim, and friends will donate to a non-profit
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Having Heartbreak

I started to feel a sickness in my stomach.  My eyes welled without warning.  In mere seconds I felt myself feeling sluggish and exhausted.  Sadness was sinking in.  I wanted to stop time – change it even.  I felt desperate in my disbelief.  I was watching the election results unfold.  For me, my candidate was losing and lost.  I was now facing yet another of my life’s heartbreaks. This post is not political.  This post is about heartbreak.  It happens to each of us.  In many forms and in many ways over our lifetimes we will experience a hope lost,
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Dime a Dozen

“Women like you are a dime a dozen.” I feigned a blank look as I hesitated.  The words were spoken matter-of-factly, with a hint of compassion. My friend went on to explain. “I mean, look at the statistics. Single women your age outnumber single men 3 to 1. Not to mention men are only interested in women five or ten years younger.” I wanted to argue but I couldn’t. My lawyer mind knew the numbers evidence. She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know, yet the harshness of the truth weighed on my heart for weeks. When considering a
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The Gift

I had just finished stringing cupcake liners on a piece of yarn to serve as party decorations for my daughter’s 10th birthday.  The “Cupcake Wars” birthday extravaganza preparation was nearly complete.  I now needed to wrap her birthday gifts in the fun cupcake wrapping paper I found on a fluke.  Wrapping gifts is my favorite part of any celebration.  I find nothing more delightful than producing a pretty package for the recipient. This year, her dad and I decided to go in together on a joint gift and each pay half the cost of her first iPod.  This was an
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Part 3: Never Enough

During days of hiking in the wilderness with her son, Susan made discoveries about her child, her former spouse, and the challenges of any great journey. She reflects on her lessons in this three part series. I go for months without seeing my children. One in New York, one in California, me in the middle and all of us with careers. When we say goodbye after spending time together, I try not to think about how long it will be before we see one another again, face to face. Of all of the challenging issues in the world of divorce
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