Sometimes life seems uncertain. We feel like we lost control and don’t know what our next step is. I have moments like this and it’s at those times that I remember the words of someone that had been very special to me. She said, “When you feel like that, remember the Beatles’ song, ‘Let It Be.” And to this day, I do.
There are things in my life that are beyond my control and it’s during those times that I have to take a step back, lean on my faith, kiss it up to God and hand it to the Universe.
When I lived in New Jersey, I couldn’t wait for that first spring day when I could turn off the heat and open every window. Fresh air would move through the house, and suddenly I’d be ready to dust, clean, and let winter go. I loved that feeling.
Now that I live in Florida, I wait for it in the fall. After months of air conditioning and closed windows, the first cool day makes me want to open up the house and tackle all those little cleaning jobs I’ve been putting off. It’s funny how moving south turned my spring cleaning into fall cleaning.
The season has changed, but the feeling hasn’t. There’s something wonderful about fresh air coming through the windows and a house that feels ready for a new beginning.
Embrace that feeling of opening the windows wide and letting the sweet smell of the fresh air of a new season in!
Isn’t it amazing to think that some of the people who mean so much to us today were once complete strangers? Our paths may never have crossed if not for one decision, one unexpected moment, or one change in direction that brought us together.
I believe God and the Universe place certain people along our journey for a reason. Some come to teach us, some to encourage us, and some simply arrive to remind us that we are not alone. We may not always understand the timing, but the most meaningful connections are often the ones we never saw coming.
As this new week begins, keep your heart open to the people who cross your path. A simple conversation, a shared smile, or an unexpected meeting may become something far more meaningful than you could ever imagine.
Some people enter our lives unexpectedly, but their presence is no accident. Trust the souls God and the Universe place along your journey.
At 65 years old, I make my own hours. I write, I work, and for the most part, I decide what each day will look like. You might think that without a traditional Monday-through-Friday schedule, all the days would begin to blur together.
But they don’t.
Saturday and Sunday still feel different to me. They seem calmer, quieter, and more peaceful. There’s a softness to the weekends—a feeling that the world has slowed down just enough for us to breathe a little deeper and move a little slower.
Maybe it comes from raising five children. Monday through Friday meant alarm clocks, school lunches, homework, schedules, and getting everyone where they needed to be on time. The weekends meant no school, no lunches to pack, and no rushing out the door. They were our lazy days, our fun days, and our family days.
Later, when I worked full-time, Saturdays and Sundays became the days I cleaned the house, went food shopping, ran errands, and tried to fit in everything I couldn’t do during the week. They weren’t always restful, but they were mine. Even with a long list of things to accomplish, the weekends carried a sense of freedom.
Life looks very different now, yet that feeling has stayed with me. There’s still something special about waking up on a Saturday morning and knowing that the weekend has arrived. The air feels different. The pace feels gentler. Even an ordinary cup of coffee feels a little more enjoyable.
Perhaps our hearts remember the rhythm of the lives we once lived. Mine still remembers weekends as a time to exhale, reconnect, and simply enjoy being home.
And after all these years, Saturday and Sunday are still my favorite days.
Some of the biggest changes in our lives don’t happen all at once. They begin with one decision, one act of courage, one conversation, or one small step in a new direction.
If there’s something you’ve been putting off, let this be your reminder: you don’t have to have the whole journey figured out. You just have to start somewhere. One small step today could be the beginning of a life you never imagined.
August has arrived, and with it comes another quiet reminder that life is always offering us a fresh page. We can’t rewrite yesterday, but we can choose how we fill the days ahead—with gratitude instead of worry, kindness instead of judgment, laughter instead of stress, and hope instead of fear.
This month, I hope you find beauty in the ordinary. May your coffee stay warm a little longer, your favorite song find you at just the right moment, your heart feel a little lighter, and your days be filled with love, laughter, music, meaningful moments, unexpected blessings, and people who remind you that goodness still exists in the world.
Here’s to August… to new beginnings, peaceful hearts, and making memories that will one day make us smile.
Life has been a little quiet here… but not because there’s nothing to say.
It’s because life has been full.
Full of movement, full of change, and yes… full of travel.
At 65, I’ve found myself saying yes to things I once put off. Trips I dreamed about. Places I thought I’d get to “someday.” And somewhere along the way, someday quietly turned into now.
There’s something about this stage of life that feels different. Less waiting. Less wondering. More doing. More seeing. More living. And more adventures!
I’m realizing that the life I once gave so much of to others now has room for me again.
And I’m filling it—one trip, one experience, one beautiful moment at a time.
This is what it looks like to come back to yourself.
For as long as I can remember—going all the way back to childhood—it felt like if something bad was going to happen to me, it would happen in March. Somehow, year after year, that belief kept proving itself true.
Last March, my mom passed away.
Last March, I spent my birthday quietly, just me and my dad.
And March became heavy in a way I didn’t ask for.
But today, as this new March begins, I’m trying something different.
I’m trying to loosen my grip on the story I’ve been telling myself.
Trying to remember that months don’t get to decide my fate.
Trying to believe that grief doesn’t own the calendar, and neither do old fears.
This March, I’m choosing to meet the days as they come—without expectation, without dread, and with a little more grace for myself.
Maybe healing doesn’t mean forgetting what happened.
Maybe it just means not letting it define everything that comes next.
