Category: NEXT: An Empowerment Series

The stories kept coming. For two hours a non-stop stream of people paid their condolences to the young widow as she stood in front of her wife’s slate gray coffin covered with white lilies and white roses. One by one they told their story of meeting, what meant the most, and the loss they grieved. After the visitation, the stories continued on the back patio with the sound of August cicadas and more than one bottle of wine selected from the cellar without care as to whether it was the finest or the cheapest. “Remember the time when she…?”  “How

“You’d be perfect,” he said. “It’s a panel. I have two men and I need a businesswoman. Plus you’d get some publicity. Are you free Tuesday?” “Sure!”  I say enthusiastically. My ego had just agreed to be a contestant in the inaugural taping of a TV game show before a live audience. While I have images of the Price is Right on the black and white television of my childhood, I have never been a big fan of TV game shows. Not Jeopardy. Not Wheel of Fortune. I don’t even know what they fight about on Family Feud. It’s not

Vacation is a treasured luxury. The sights of the scenery, the tastes of the food, and the step back in time are awe-inspiring. I pack lightly. Sturdy walking shoes. A wrap for chilly evenings. A simple black dress for dinner that rolls up but doesn’t wrinkle. Ready for the wonder that awaits. Our first day we had a car. We meandered along rolling hills covered in morning light. Though midsummer, many of the fields were already turning golden. The lush blankets of color reached to the horizon where they met the sky that went from cloudy to perfect blue as

Have you ever watched yourself become a mistake magnet? I have. First I type “rick” instead of “nick” in an email about an important business meeting. Then, instead of arriving ten minutes early to a roomful of professionals awaiting me, I arrive ten minutes late. Because three is a charm, I soon realize that I failed to inform a key person about the meeting. I make one mistake and I feel embarrassed by my kerfuffle. I make two mistakes and I feel both worried about what the other person thinks and guilty for being a source of suffering. I make

I stood excitedly waiting for Mom to hand me the phone. On an expensive “long distance” call, I could only talk a couple of minutes. Tom’s brilliance and hard work in high school had earned him a trip to a distant city to receive a science award, and this was his one call home. Tom was my big brother and my hero. Later that year, Tom boarded a bus headed from Nebraska to Michigan State University on a scholarship and leaving behind our mother who was broken hearted that she didn’t have a dime to give him. Neither our parents

“What action have you taken?” “None,” I replied. Being an attorney, I had the evidence in my defense prepared. My sister was in the hospital.             I was busy grading mid-term exams.             I had a deadline on a big writing project. That was just the start. I continued to justify how I had spent my time since my last call with my coach. How I had a board meeting for the bar association, how I took my 80 year old mother shopping, how I led a meditation for a faith community. My coach was quiet as I carried on

Carmen is my tailor. She transforms my thrift store finds into perfectly fitted favorites. She lets me stop in without an appointment and turns things around in a matter of days. I’m a loyal if infrequent customer of many years. Carmen is a no nonsense business woman.  “When do you want it, lady?” she asks directly in her noticeable accent. Her small shop has two dressing rooms. There is a glass jar for tips at the counter where a window opens into a room with clothing hanging on one wall and large bright spools of thread on the other. An

Dave needs his knee replaced. Jan is getting chemo. Sharon just got home from the hospital with three diagnoses. Frank is healing from shoulder surgery. Gay’s cancer is spreading. Mary’s meds are keeping her up at night. Too many to count are anxious or depressed or both. Many people I love most live each day with a significant health challenges. I’m one of the lucky ones. I am the oldest person in my office but still get nominated as one of the healthiest. I’ve been given good enough genes, escaped terrible toxins, and avoided enough sports such that so far

“Go to bed, Suzy,” he said. It was not a command, but more like a kind instruction given to an impaired person in need of direction. My late husband would say this phrase to me at the end of a day when my fatigue and its accompanying grumpiness were obvious yet I was oblivious. John was lived with cancer for many years, and he’d become an expert at paying attention to one’s body. He was one of many wise teachers, coaches, and doctors who have invited me to notice and attend to what my mind, body, and spirit need. My

“The path of least resistance,” he answered. I felt a barely detectable bristle of judgment. I had asked my friend how he chose a particular career path. To his response I thought: He must not have that much ambition. He probably likes to stay where it’s comfortable. I’ll bet he’s missed out on a lot of life. I stepped on to the well-worn path of being wrong. My friend had a brilliant career, was dedicated to his community, and beloved by his family. In the story I told about my own life achievements was my claim to taking the road