Itβs no wonder even friends and couples end up going their separate ways.
The message next to the door to the employeesβ entrance of a hotel would serve well posted in all our schools.
It's an eclipse happening daily, having effects which can last a lifetime, cast a pall, create pain, and catastrophically perpetuate grief.
Broken bones do heal. Broken hearts take longer. A lot longer. Maybe never.
As air under wings, and water under boats, and roots to a tree, so is a wife like I had. She grounded me.
But that which is beautiful, and those with whom those beautiful memories are made, are worth our best efforts to save.
As people, we are so easily led astray, sometimes finding ourselves in the basement before we discover somewhere we lost our way.
It was the fastest quarter mile ever run in the history of womenβs track.
Roots are to trees what meditation on truth is to happiness, purpose, and a productive life.
Be present. Be in the moment. Before the day is done, take time to be.
Like going through fire and flood, we are sometimes joined on our journey by uninvited and unwelcome traveling companions.
What if you had a wish-come-true opportunity to live life, if not all over again, at least fully, βtwice upon a time,β not just once?
The day I went back I discovered the way forward.
βA good name is better than gold.β Is there a better name, a better title, than βdadβ?
Death, like a disaster at sea, can seem to end prospects for arrival to the port to which we had set sail.
Buried in the darkness of hardship, struggling through winterβs weariness, we provide evidence, show our true colors of what we are.
Life goes on, until it doesnβt. Love will last forever, but then it ends.
A next time because there was never enough time to love and be loved like that.
There is no such thing as blessing without brokenness. There isnβt. Life is not a fairy tale. We donβt live this life without sorrow.
As treasure hunters follow an ancient map, so did I and happened upon a treasure priceless in compare.
It is never easy β much more like gut-wrenching misery β to say goodbye to someone you love.
My writing desk is surrounded by joy.
This is about you. This is about anyone and everyone who has (and truth be told, who is there who has not?) suffered a life-shattering loss.
I thought it was a piece of litter along the driveway. When I stopped and picked it up, reading it, the tears came.
The old rocking chair would creak as she tenderly stoked their cheeks, and soothed and softly sang to our little loved ones.
Old books and miniature Dutch shoes leave for their new home with her children. And her husband is forever grateful given what follows.
Youβll see them everywhere today. Chocolates in a box shaped like a heart, balloons shaped like a heart, and hidden away: broken hearts.
As fast as we could then drive, so quickly would our love and life together end.
We have known here in the family room a pain so deep, a grief so wide, that except for sobs weβve simply sat in silence. Not so last night.
He was king with numerous opportunities to rule well during his eight-year reign. But he had not.
I need only a few words, a few giant words, a few giant words repeated often, to help restart and rekindle my joy in living.
A twice-broken heart, dreams dashed, one cup where there used to be two, where to go, what now?
As purposeful as weeping is to the one grieving the loss of a loved one, so needful are the thorns on the rose blooming in the garden.
Storms of sadness break, painful memories are suddenly recalled, flashbacks are triggered with little warning. What to do?
Husbands? We have one job. One. To have an imPACTful marriage.
No one likes to wait. It's estimated that the average person will spend six months of their life waiting for the red light to turn green.
On the eve of the day to celebrate romance and love, we headed home. We had reached the end of our journey.
KeyBank partners with local agency to help eligible families and individuals file for the Earned Income Tax Credit
I think for 200 years or more many of us may have been doing love all wrong.
One foot was on the dock, her other foot on the gunnel of our little sailboat pram that was departing in the gentle breeze. Time to decide.