A month or so ago, I posted the annual holiday letter my boss sends every year to family and friends. This year’s is fabulous, too, and with his permission, I’m posting it here.  I’ve removed any identifying details and edited it for content, but I’ve left his primary message intact.  Enjoy. 

I always admired the late Reverend Peter Gomes, whose messages from the pulpit in Harvard’s Memorial Church stirred a lot of souls – especially the memorial services he offered at each of the reunions we attended. Years ago I got to introduce Peter at a church fundraising dinner.  (When he referred to me as “Brother” during his remarks, this mid-western hayseed felt like he had made it to the big time!) Recently, we received a flyer announcing an auction of the contents of Peter’s homes. This flyer did what death usually does – reminded me of the value of life. On page 283 of The Good Life, Reverend Gomes wrote: “The good life is not to be found wrapped up and waiting for us like the Dead Sea Scrolls or some ancient artifacts from a culture that once flourished but is now long gone. Not at all. The good life, whose object, like that of hope, is a future good….enables us to live now that which we seek.” Living now that which we seek makes so much sense. Why do we think that real joy is the goal, rather than a daily choice? I am sure Peter left behind some wonderful items for auction, but the beauty of those antiques can’t compete with the messages of love and good-heartedness he left behind.

Peter also wrote and spoke about gratitude – which has been mentioned in numerous Holiday Letters over the years. Those of us who write these annual missives predictably express gratitude for our family and friends, and for the many blessings we have been given. For some reason, though, I have resisted practicing gratitude formally by following the recommended rituals. That may seem a little odd in the face of overwhelming evidence that keeping a so-called ‘Gratitude Journal’ makes us happier. Yet, I have not been able to discipline myself to do that, or anything else that is recommended by those who have studied the phenomenon.

One writer suggested that we should cultivate gratitude by taking a moment during each meal to tell those gathered what we are thankful for – not just during the Thanksgiving meal, but always. (It could lead to surprises, as I remember one Thanksgiving dinner at which a young Reid said he was thankful for Oprah and Wheel of Fortune.)  Maybe we will try this one in ’12.

Specifically, this year we are grateful that Paige is actually a fabulous teenager—the kind you can only hope for. (Can you believe she is driving?) We are thankful that Craig continues to pursue his passion of broadcasting baseball, and that he is enjoying all that Florida has to offer. We are grateful that Reid has continued to advance in his development; and we are grateful for the way Karen and I still have fun in all that we do together.

As some of you know from years of reading about Reid, he lives ‘in the moment’ with great joy. “Live now that which we seek…”  So, I thought I would share with you a poem I wrote about Reid several years ago:

There is something about Reid
that makes us smile
when he finds joy in the simplest things.

There is something about Reid
that makes him giggle,
seeing a moon, a sun, or a mouse.

There is something about Reid
that makes us happy
in the way his sweet heart sings.

There is something about Reid
that is so sincere when he invites
strangers for “supper me house?”

There is something about Reid
that gives us joy
as he asks for his favorite shows.

There is something about Reid
that touches souls
with the merriment our lives don’t allow.

There is something about Reid
that impresses us all
when we discover what he really knows.

There is something about Reid
that changes our hearts
when he says “me happy now.”

After Craig’s terrific writing last year, many of you are probably a little disappointed to see me back in the game. And I had truly thought I was retired. But when your brother comes through major brain surgery safely and successfully, you feel compelled to write a little bit more about gratitude—and miracles.  Those of you who have read The Secret know that there is great power in our thoughts. When it was discovered that Rick had a tumor, hundreds of people openly offered “thoughts and prayers.” Relatives, friends, contacts on Facebook and Linkedin, co-workers at my firm, and the parishioners at our church all offered “thoughts and prayers.” (Even a stranger I chatted with in Denver added Rick to his prayer list…) Don’t ever doubt the power of thoughts and prayers. There is no doubt in my mind that the team of surgeons had an extra pair of divine hands in the operating room. The joy we feel knowing that Rick will be fine is indescribable. I look forward to playing lots of golf with him in the years to come.

Amidst all of this, I continue to be moved by remarks made by the Headmaster of (children’s school) at a Thanksgiving assembly over a year ago.  Loosely interpreted, he reminded us that we should be thankful for sadness, because it magnifies our happiness. We should be thankful for loneliness, as it gives us a greater appreciation for connection. And we can celebrate failure, for without it we would know less success. Reverend Gomes said we could only know true joy, if we knew suffering. Indeed, life is rich in joy and sorrow, in achievement and disappointment, in gain and loss. We are so very thankful to be on this journey with such supportive friends and family, as well as those unnamed Angels that move in and out of our lives. May each of us be an Angel for someone every day.

I would like to share a quote from The Power (sequel to The Secret): “So how do you fall in love with life? The same way you fall in love with another person—you adore everything about them! You fall in love with another person by seeing only love, hearing only love, speaking only love, and by feeling love with all your heart!  And that is exactly how you use the ultimate power of love in love with life.”  Now, combine this thinking with a quote from Albert Einstein: “Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions.” We have unlimited potential. Turn your imagination loose. Decide what you want….believe you can have it, believe you deserve it, believe it’s possible for you, and have an extraordinary holiday season.

A note from the daughter: 

Even though Dad is “out of retirement” from writing the holiday letter, he asked mom and me (Paige) to add our thoughts this year. Dad has asked me several times to write the holiday letter, saying it would be a great opportunity, but I never took him up on the offer. I was always a little nervous about jumping into something that he has done for so many years, and for a piece of writing about which a lot of people openly express joy upon reading. I certainly didn’t feel prepared to step into those shoes. My other issue was that I never felt like I had anything truly inspiring to share. This is probably the first year that I have actually been able to somewhat connect myself to the things Dad has to say in the letter.

After reading The Secret, Dad did not want to keep the things he had learned to himself. Mom and I listened to him describe the messages and different ways he thought it could really change a person’s life. However, keep in mind that I live under the same roof as him, so our whole family is subject to these eye-opening things Dad has to say throughout the whole year—not just in this letter. And I do admit that I didn’t give it much thought the first time Dad talked about it. Then one day during wellness week, which is my school’s version of drug and alcohol awareness and prevention, the guest speaker suddenly asked if we had ever learned about the power of thought. Many in the room were clueless to the idea, but I knew what he was talking about. He went on to describe a time when he was so nervous about a public speaking event, that he envisioned himself doing the presentation and having it be a huge success, and by the time he got up on stage, he wasn’t a bit nervous and did a great job.

So maybe this crazy idea that Dad had shared with us was something bigger then I realized; maybe it was really possible too. All I know is if a 16 year old daughter can be inspired by an idea so grand and unimaginable, it could truly be life changing after all.

I know my boss has his cranky times or when he feel less than stellar (or feels not in the slightest bit like being politically correct or stroking yet another ego), but in general he exudes joy and confidence and happiness.  I’ve never worked for someone like him, which in a way makes me nervous because I don’t know how to deal with someone who appears to open and truly interested in helping his team members succeed.  I enjoyed his letter this year as it personally spoke to me (again!).  I myself have experienced first-hand the healing and inspiring power that love has over us, and I know that the love I’ve given out this year has made a difference to many different people (including one in particular). 

10 years has passed since I “officially” worked for anyone, though it seems like I’ve been working for people constantly - and I have.  The only difference is the benefits were non-existent and the paychecks came sporadically, usually long after I actually needed the money.  When I lost my business partner, I lost a lot of motivation.  It was too hard to keep selling as well as servicing the clients I had.  I was torn in three directions - and that is 2 too many. 

So a week from tomorrow, I’ll be channeling Ms. Parton (with a lot less in the top-heavy department; can’t even imagine what running with those things would be like):

Ironically enough, I can’t seem to get the legal sector out of my blood and I keep coming back to it.  I think it’s fair to say I like the challenge.  This job is different than others I’ve had.  The firm is huge and they have lots of people to do lots of individual things; I’ll be spending most of my time responding to RFP’s and figuring out how best to position the firm, and what attorneys should be teamed up, to get the business.  It leverages one of my strongest skills:  pulling the best parts out of people and making them dance on paper.  It also proves one CAN make a living with a degree in English and Creative Writing. 

My team is small and I’m excited about the amount of work and autonomy involved in the job.  I like to be left alone to crank out the work; writing is a solitary art anyway.  I’m also, frankly, excited about things like working with other people who are smarter and more successful than me, working downtown (yay for crossing into city limits!), meeting new people (cliche but true!), and having health insurance that doesn’t cost me 1/3 of a mortgage payment.  I’m nervous about how it’s going to affect the girls, or how I’m going to manage to fit runs in between a career and mothering, neither of which is very part time, and I’m going to miss the flexibility I’ve enjoyed so much over the last decade.  Sporadic paychecks are easier to swallow when you can set your own schedule, even though the truth is this:  if you own your business (in sole proprietor style), you are never on vacation and you can never fully disconnect. 

I say all of these things lightly but this was a very difficult decision for me.  The career person still buried inside me was yanking on the chain, wanting to be let loose to make a difference in a new environment.  Instead of intimidating me, the firm seemed to energize me and I realized what kind of assets I could bring if I could just get my foot in the door.  Back at home, I struggled and suffered through Lily’s tears as she begged me not to put her in after-school care.  She’s really had the Kool-Aid mom for as long as she can remember; I’m always arranging play dates and dragging kids all over.  Those days will be over when I start my new job, but I also felt it was important to listen to her and let her know that I too am sad about those things.  In the end, I told her, I have to save money to buy a house for all of us and that requires me to work. 

The hard cold fact is that I work very, very hard for someone who makes almost no money.  I’m tired of working for free, even if that’s for myself.  I can’t afford it and mentally, I have to find a better way to work like normal people do.  This means working during the day, and leaving the work at work.  It means I can read or watch television at night without my laptop open and on, laundry piled up in the corner, my refrigerator a mess because I forgot to grocery shop again and am once more eating cereal for dinner. 

It’s going to be a big transition for all of us. 

I had a call with the estate and trust attorney Mike and I used way back when to set up trusts and directions in the event we were both killed individually or in one great fell swoop.  He was calling because Mike is (rightly so) removing me as a fiduciary and benefactor from his side of the documents. 

Our attorney was someone I coached and did marketing planning for many years ago, when I was still earning a living from doing such things . He was always one of my favorites:  soft-spoken but extremely intelligent, passionate about providing the best, most comprehensive services he could, and open to suggestions.  Soon after I stopped consulting for his firm, he went out on his own.  I’d like to think I had something to do with building his self-confidence so that he felt free to do it.

He was calling to get my permission to be removed from Mike’s documents and to find out what I wanted to do. Obviously, I need a new will and trust for the girls.  But at his hourly rate, it’s going to be quite a while for me to be able to afford to do it.  As we talked, I jokingly said, “Well, here’s hoping I don’t die between now and then.” 

He said very quietly, “Don’t worry.  I will do your documents and you can pay me when you can.  You can pay $10 a month or you can wait and pay it all at once.  It’s just not an issue, so stop thinking about it.”  After he said this, he proceeded to ask how the girls were handling everything, remembering their names and that my oldest is the same age as his son.  He wasn’t asking to be polite.  He actually wanted to know. 

I haven’t cried much since our divorce was finalized, but his kindness got the waterworks flowing.  Thankfully it was after we hung up the phone.  I am often overwhelmed by other people’s kindnesses.  The hardest part has been accepting it when it is offered, but I spend my life trying to help other people and now when I most need help, I have to be willing to hear it the offers. 

I think many of us go through life not realizing how the little things we do or give to others drastically affect them.  I know I’ve given much of myself over the years:  time, money, advice, support, hugs, or just a place to be safe.  Because it is easy for me to give, the giving easily loses its value and I underestimate what I have done for others.  I am finally in a position to give back to people again, as I have the emotional energy I was lacking for a year and a half.  I’m stronger, happier, more settled than I have been, but I still very much need help. 

It was an amazing moment for me.  People make jokes about lawyers and sometimes the stereotype is true.  However, the majority of lawyers I’ve worked with (and been married to) are good, decent people.  Some are even in law for the right reasons.  I remembered all the sessions I’d had with this attorney in his small office years ago and how we’d talk about his future goals, determining the individual steps it would take for him to accomplish them.  5 years later we’re discussing things that didn’t seem possible to me back then, but his compassion and thoughtfulness hasn’t changed a bit. 

It actually made me miss my coaching clients.  Even the attorney ones. 

It’s a mass crazy blog post, like a casserole of randomness!  Here goes.

It’s a hole.  In my nose. 

True to my mid-life crisis (thanks for that mom), I got my nose pierced on Sunday.  I’ve wanted to do it since high school.  I waited until I was slightly wrinkled and nose piercing was mainstream before doing it.  My friend Stanley went with me, and it was a good thing, because I passed out, had a seizure and was very ill after the experience.  He had to drive me home.  His hand has permanent impressions in it from me gripping him.  He also saved my life last night too, but that’s in a different paragraph. 

It was worth it.  I’m happy with it, it’s healing well, and no, I’m not getting any more piercings and I’m still tattoo-free.  It was simply something I’ve been wanting to do, so I did it.  My kids wanted to know why I didn’t get a “bigger, sparklier” diamond.  I told them that the little one already gave their grandmother a heart attack.  They seemed to understand. 

Kick Me Dating.

I’ve already got a book in the works about the year of separation and divorce. About 80% of it is written - I wrote it last year during NaNoWriMo.  The remaining 20% is being written right now, and it’s going to be about dating at nearly 40.  It’s been QUITE the experience.  I’ve dated an emotionally stunted boy who was old enough not to be a boy.  I dated a guy with more mental issues than myself, but unlike me, he wasn’t willing to address any of them.  I went out for coffee with different men.  One had hobbit toes and spoke exclusively to my breasts.  There was not a second date.  One guy thought I was wanting to meet for coffee during work hours and called me a loser for not having a “real” job (???) - turns out he misread my email and realized I was suggesting 8 pm, not 8 am.  There was no first date with him.  Another guy sent me a long-winded note through a dating site, explaining to me in elementary-school-appropriate wording that he wished me the best of luck as no one really wants to date a woman with kids, especially not an almost 40 YEAR OLD woman.  Then he asked me out.  Guess what I said?

Then, I dated a guy - as in - we had more than one date.  He was normal.  He was good looking.  He worked out. He was healthy.  He was over his past relationships.  He was not hung up or full of issues.  He was funny.  He was mature.  He thought Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a well-written show.  He liked kids, but had resigned himself to not having any of his own. 

He changed his mind.  I can’t fault him.  Having your own kids with someone you love is a pretty cool thing.  It was hard for him to tell me that he had changed his mind.  We were getting along, we were laughing, we were “fine”.  It’s one thing to decide you don’t want to date because you spot some warning signs or the person has an annoying, throat-clearing habit.  Or is afraid to drive downtown because someone might scratch their car.  Or because they talk exclusively to your tatas. 

A part of me felt really badly that having another child is just flat out something I’m never, ever doing again.  Two is enough and frankly, my body and my brain cannot tolerate the pregnancy experience ever again.  And for him, he can date younger.  He can find someone he is compatible with that is in their early 30s and still willing, able, and excited about having a baby. 

I learn every time I meet someone new.  After my first experience, I said I wasn’t going to date anyone younger than 37 (arbitrary, I know) and I wasn’t going to date anyone who was that age and had never been married (judgmental, I know).  Now I wonder whether I can ever really believe what people say.  I change my mind frequently about things - why shouldn’t they?  It is just unfortunate that he wasn’t a psycho jerk or an asshole.  He’s a genuinely good and decent person, just like I am.  It’s much easier ending a relationship with someone who calls you names or throws temper tantrums or is completely self-absorbed.

A note about dating and me.  There’s been some judgment, but most of it has been concern from family and friends that it is “too soon”.  Timelines are arbitrary as well.  I felt alone in my marriage for quite some time.  When I finally left the marriage, it was only physically.  That’s a hard thing to admit.  It is also the truth.  My goal was to simply date - just to get my feet wet, so to speak, learn how to talk to people I don’t know, date different types, be casual and have fun.  Part of me still wants to do this.  Part of me wants to curl up in a fetal position with my daughters and hide forever.  He told me how “strong” I was - how I was such a “good person” - how I “deserve better”.  Yes, yes, and yes, but the next person with a penis who says this to me is going to lose one, if not both testicles.  As my sister said, what choice do we have?  Strength is relative.  Of course I’m strong.  Duh.  Aren’t we all? 

True to my commitment to 2010 being the year of honesty, 2010 is also the year of gray.  No black or white ultimatums for me.  Somewhere in the middle of the wacky world of dating in middle age is where I’ll be. 

Stanley and Robey came by with champagne and laptops.  Robey gave me a stern talking-to and Stanley distracted me with chatter about the half-marathon training team we are starting Saturday.  Robey cleaned up the spilled champagne (I’m a clutz) and Stanley told funny and sad stories about his life growing up.  We are both Latinos and I understand the culture even if I suck at speaking the language.  We gossiped and I cried some more.  I fell asleep before they left.  It is those moments when your friends surround you, even when they are tired of seeing you cry, that you realize what strength is all about. 

The definition of “family”. 

I’m finally starting to do some volunteer project management/board work for GayRVA.com.  I have mad respect for the people who run it, and the person who created it (waves at Kevin Clay - hi Kevin!).  It fills a need in Richmond and it is full of passionate people.  In answer to my mother’s question, posed silently and hanging over my head, no I am still not gay and no not everyone in the organization is.  If I could have jumped the lesbian fence, it would have happened long ago.  Anyway. 

A post on the website yesterday generated a lot of interest. Reading it infuriated me.  As a private business, they can do what they want, but to say it’s because they follow Virginia’s definitions of “family” is a big cop-out.  Especially when you see how many other gyms offer family memberships to all kinds of families. 

Where do you stand on the issue?  Perish the thought that we might actually allow gay marriage in Virginia . . . but denying family GYM memberships?  As one person said, American Family has no problem taking their money as individuals.  As I said, they have no problem with their gay employees (theoretically - maybe they use don’t ask, don’t tell there?), or gay people working out and spending their money there.  But to offer them a family membership discount crosses some invisible line.  I truly don’t get it.  As a marketing weenie, the negative PR alone would be enough to make a company revisit their “policies”. 

That is all. 

It’s actually a minute 7 seconds, but this was shot for Mutual of Omaha’s aha moments.  You can view my fabulous interview here.  I love how they edited it so I sound less like a bumbling idiot.  I was nervous.  Very nervous.  And there was a fly in the trailer, and it kept getting in my shot.  The nerve. 

PS.  It was extremely difficult to let anyone film me, even down 30 pounds.  I still look like a middle-aged mom, which I guess is exactly what I am.