family, reflection


Have you ever found yourself in a season of total immersion?

I knew 2022 was going to be a busy year when I bought a new calendar for January and started adding important events to the weeks and months ahead.

Son’s graduation.

Nephew’s baby’s due date.

Family vacation.

Daughter’s wedding.

There was an energy of joyful anticipation, even in the darkest days of winter, but those events seemed so far away at the time that it was almost impossible to embody all the emotions of each singular event, much less as a collective whole.

For example, my son’s high school graduation was slated for mid-June. One event of celebration. However, that one milestone included a multitude of events along the way.

College acceptance decisions.

College tours.

Scholarship requirements and thank you letters.

State competitions.

National competitions.

AP/IB tests.


Senior class trip.

Senior pictures.

Award ceremonies.

Graduation parties.

Beach Week (with my husband as chaperone of a house with 13 boys!)

So. Many. Things!

Other events made their way to my calendar, weaving through the landmine of availability.

A Passion for Kindness presentations.

Book signing events.

Secret Sister reveal.

Engagement shower.

Bridal shower.

Baby shower.

Our soon-to-be bonus son graduated from college. A close friend celebrated her 50th birthday (as did my husband.) Our niece had a dance recital and two chorus concerts. I also took a trip to Boston to visit my cousin whom I haven’t seen in 30 years.

And let’s not forget our Saturday breakfasts with Grandpa!

I am here for ALL. THE. THINGS!

Did I mention that my only daughter is getting married this summer? The list of all those events leading up to the big day would exceed my maximum word count for sure.

Recently, I was catching up with a friend sharing a bit about all we’d been up to lately, when she exclaimed, “Wow – you’ve done everything except a funeral this year!”

But, no.

We added that to the calendar, too, when Grandma Letter passed away in May at the age of 98.

High and lows.

Ups and downs.


I know seasons such as this do not last forever. Eventually, I will experience the tide’s quiet entry along the shore as a small ripple of foam brushing against the tips of my toes instead of knocking me backward from the force of its impact.

That time will come again.

But for now, I am catching a quick breath along the break before diving back in.

So many memories to capture.

So many stories to share.

So many moments to live.

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