Sometimes I sit down to write this weekly post and I feel pressure to come up with the perfect moment or something deeply profound to change someone’s life. But it doesn’t work like that, does it? And then I get in my own way, to the point where I convince myself I have nothing worthwhile to say.

These are the times when writing is hard.

When I am unsure of what to write, I get quiet, turn off the bad TV (I’m talking to you, The Bachelorette!), and listen to the still, quiet voice which lives far away from the crazy talk I hear so often.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I am cleaning out my apartment, intending to clear out all that has served its purpose to make room for the new things waiting for me. In the process, I have learned I’m a bit of a hoarder (being a writer in the shadows for so many years, a major hoarder of pens and notebooks), but the silver lining is I tend to save thank you notes that have moved me in some way. I’ve found notes from old bosses, congratulating me on projects well done—and one simply welcoming me back from vacation, saying I was “missed by all”—from old friends thanking me for support on major life events, and from beloved family members who have since transitioned on to some unknown place. As I sorted through all of these, I felt as moved as I’d been when I first received them.

Quite simply, I just felt grateful.

I’m grateful for:

…for rainbow sprinkles which never, ever fail to make me giddy.

…for the tough experiences that show me I am tougher than I know (though, most times I don’t know gratitude is lurking in the aftermath).

…for friends who feed me and give me wine and sea salt chocolate-covered marshmallows on a random Sunday night.

…for the sense of wonder in me that shows up for every sunset, moonrise and visible star I can see.

…for the love unceasingly appearing everywhere, if not always in ways I expect.


So when I am searching for goodness, I remember the things for which I am grateful. And that is enough.

xo, with goodness and grace.