There is a kind of grace available to you right now, in this very moment — no perfect morning needed. Just a willingness to pause, breathe, and notice.
There is wisdom in the pause.
Starting your day sitting in gratitude with intention, allowing yourself to really feel it—invites one of the highest frequencies there is into your life.
Not for the big moments or the ones worth celebrating, just for this—-the breath in your body, the ground beneath your feet, the simple grace of still being here.
There’s something almost sacred about real gratitude. Not the kind you perform, but the kind that finds you — in the way morning light falls soft across a room, in that first sip of something warm, in the simple miracle of an ordinary day.
Here’s what we know — the words you speak and the thoughts you carry have energy. They shape the way you feel, the way you move through a room, the way your day unfolds. Choose them wisely. Choose them kindly. Especially the ones you say to yourself.
Gratitude is one of those choices. And it might just be the most powerful one you make all day. We don’t always get to choose what the day brings. But we get to choose how we meet it. Open hand, not clenched fist. You don’t need a ritual or a perfect morning or the right words. Just these two, meant sincerely, before the world asks anything of you: Say thank you.
And mean it.
This moment, this breath, this life — it’s all worth the gratitude.
“The grief no one warned you about — and the woman waiting on the other side of it.”
The day we moved our only child into her Boston dorm, my husband and I drove home through five hours of tears and highway and not enough words. We’d done everything right. We’d raised her well. And when we walked back into our own house, the quiet that greeted us was unlike anything I had ever felt before.
I thought I was ready. I had packed the boxes, bought the shower caddy, done everything a mother does. I had been preparing for years.
I was not ready.
“Empty nest grief shows up dressed as pride, as gratitude, as relief — all the feelings you’re supposed to have — and so you almost miss it.”
You smile through it. You let other people’s “you must be so proud!” paper over it. But then — usually quietly, usually alone — it makes itself known.
For me, it was the first dinner without her. I looked at her empty chair and felt something crack open so completely I had to put my hands flat on the table just to stay upright.
She wasn’t gone. She was growing up — living her life with the enthusiasm of someone raised to do exactly that. She was fine.
I was the one who wasn’t fine.
Her flourishing and my grief existed in the same moment, made from the same event. That was the thing no one had warned me about.
“No one gives you language for this. You just walk around with it, unnamed and heavy, wondering if something is wrong with you.”
People ask cheerfully: “So what will you do now?” As if the answer is obvious. As if years of yourself didn’t just walk out the door.
But that surface question is almost never the real one. The real question lives one layer deeper, and it’s harder to say out loud:
Who am I, now that she doesn’t need me in the same way?
That’s the one that wakes you up at 3am. That makes Sunday afternoons feel impossibly heavy.
I won’t pretend I have an answer — because I don’t. What I found instead was that sitting with the question taught me things I didn’t know I needed to learn.
I had given myself away in stages — first to my career, then to my child — until the woman I’d started with had quietly disappeared beneath the weight of all that devotion.
I now see that she had been there all along. I was the one who had walked away.
I think of my mother now in ways I never could before. She stood in this exact silence once — watching me walk toward my own life — and I had no idea what it cost her. I understand now, Mom. I finally understand.
I’ve spoken to enough women in this season to know what’s possible. The one who went back to school at 54. The one who finally started the business she’d sketched in notebooks for thirty years. The one who simply decided to learn what she actually liked — quietly, just for herself, for the first time in decades.
I don’t have my answer yet. I’m still in it — still learning to sit still without calling it failure. But I’ve stopped apologizing for that.
The quiet house isn’t absence. It’s space. And space, when you stop treating it like a problem, turns out to be something you can actually use.
Dear woman in the quiet house—
All those precious years of yourself went into another person — willingly, fiercely, without regret. And now that person has walked out the door, suitcase in hand, and into her own extraordinary life.
The woman who comes next has already earned everything she needs.
Start with her.
— With love, from every woman who has been where you are.
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In life sometimes, if we are lucky, we come across individuals whose strength, determination, and selflessness leave an indelible mark on our hearts. My friend Liz was all that, sprinkled with extra sugar and spice! We met when we had just both become mothers for the first time, since then, we navigated life together in our new role as mothers and eventually, a bond of friendship, a sisterhood developed.
Our conversations ran deep, we spoke about everything and anything. We talked a lot about the people who mattered the most to us, our families , parents, siblings, spouses, children, and childhood best friends. We connected because we both knew the value of an authentic friendship. We always made time for one another and touched base once a week, even if it was just a quick call or text. We looked forward to spending time with one another, it almost always resulted in buckets of laughter, tears and lots of good food!
Liz had battled cancer twice before , when she found out that she had cancer again , she was resolved on beating it. “ I did it before, I can do it again! I can beat this! “ I believed that she could. She was amazing , her fight with cancer was quiet but it was fought valiantly, with her quiet reserve, her signature smile and with so much dignity and grace. She never allowed fear to consume her. Our friendship allowed her to share her fears with me and it allowed me to help get her back to faith or just let her cry. She sometimes needed a good cry, we both did, and then we would find something to laugh about! Liz made a conscious decision to embrace life fully, second by second, moment to moment. She was determined to be positive and her family served as the driving force behind her strength.
We lost Liz a month ago today, I miss her deeply.
Her loss was undoubtedly heartbreaking for all who loved her but her memory continues to inspire and uplift. In one of our last conversations, she asked me not to allow myself to wallow in sadness when she passes, but to enjoy every second of life and to keep an eye on her kids. That’s a promise I plan on keeping.
My view of life has been shifted because of my friend. Bit by bit, cancer took parts of her, what remained was her kindness, empathy, wit and her sweetness. She always expressed her gratitude and counted her blessings, she lived for her family. She cherished her friendships and paid attention to foster and nurture those relationships. Her children are amazing, a testament to her and her husband’s loving attention and dedication.
She would joke that dying young meant she would never have wrinkles and that she would be reunited with her mother, who had passed away from cancer only a few years earlier. She missed her lovely mom so much, and I know she was happy to have finally been reunited.
I want to honor her legacy by embracing life with the same passion, compassion, perseverance and determination.
In the end, my friend’s journey was not defined by her battle with cancer, but by her unwavering commitment to love, hope, and making the world a better place for her children. May her story continue to inspire us to be better, to connect, to give more, and to cherish each precious moment we have with those we love.
When I look at her children’s faces, I see her smile and her eyes.
Her absence will forever be felt but I will forever be grateful to have known her beautiful soul.
We are all living life, trying to find a balance and searching for happiness. Here are some things I’ve learned to do in order to be happy.
Make the best of everything.Whatever happens in life, it could be worse. So make the best of it.
Love yourself. Sometimes we are so busy taking care of others that we forget about ourselves. You need to be full in order to take care of your loved ones.
Put your electronics away. You need to take a break from all the distractions. You are more likely to find your happy place when you are focused.
Live in the now.Yesterday’s a memory, tomorrow is a mystery and today is a gift. Which is why it’s called the present.
Faith. I have gone through so many ups and downs in my life, just like all of you, my faith has carried me through my toughest times. I’m thankful that I believe in a higher power.
Help others. Do something every day to help someone else. It doesn’t have to be big, even a smile is an act of charity, you never know how it may impact someone’s day.
Be grateful. Practicing gratitude will help you see all that you have, instead of focusing on what you don’t have.
Meditate. Take a few minutes every day to sit in quiet contemplation . There are so many guided meditation apps that will make it easy to do. Meditation allows you to clear your mind and relieves stress.
Diet & Exercise. Eating clean and moving your body is healthy for both your body and your mind. Having a healthy diet will give you more energy and exercise releases endorphins that make you feel good.
Find a creative outlet. Do something that you are passionate about, or learn something new. It keeps you balanced.
Surround yourself with positive people. It’s much easier to be happy with people who see the glass half full. And no negative talk, that means no negative self talk either.
Set goals.Having goals helps you grow and learn and it keeps you on your toes.
Travel. When you travel you learn so much about people and cultures. Travel allows you to see that we are more alike than we are different.
Create a community. Keep in touch with your family, aunts, uncles, cousins. Most of my cousins are my best friends. They are a link to your history. Cherish your friends, especially your long friendships, those die hard, steadfast friends are keepers! I’m so blessed to have both old and new friends that I adore. Relationships take communication, time and love. I hope you have people in your life that think you are worthy of their time, because you deserve it.
I can’t believe that you are a teenager! Although I do see some major eye rolling and a lot more time away from the “mommy” you used to be glued to, you’re still the beautiful, loveable you! You will always be our baby.
I want you to know that the day you were born was the most magical day of our lives. God blessed us with the most amazing little girl in the world. You are the most precious gift we have ever received.
You changed our lives forever. You are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside. You are an old soul, wise beyond your years. You fill our hearts and our lives with so much love and purpose. I know that whatever you do in life will positively impact the world. Your beautiful heart is filled with love, kindness and compassion. The love and loyalty you have for your family members and your friends always amazes me. We are so privileged to have you as our daughter. While we help shape the person you will become as an adult you have helped us to grow and learn as well. I know you will teach us a lot more as you continue to grow into the beautiful woman you will soon become. Know that love and the bond you shared with your grandparents will sustain you for life. You will always have them watching over you. They were so proud of you just as we are. I know that you will continue to make us proud.
We love you Sophia and wish you the happiest of birthdays. Welcome to your teen years, they go fast, so learn, live well, make the right decisions and always know that your family will be here for you. Remember, God and family first, always, that’s the legacy that is left for you by your grandparents.
Love, Mommy
I love this manifesto on parenting by Brene Brown and thought that I would share it with you all.
