“Just focus on your next step,” said Tex. “Don’t worry about the climb ahead.” Those words of encouragement grounded me, and I determinedly took the next step, then the next. I didn’t think about the rest of the climb, just the next step. We were on a hiking path in the Garden of the Sleeping Giants in Fiji. The garden trail along the side of the mountain led to a lookout that promised a spectacular view of the island.

Resilience and strength do not come from a life of ease and leisure. We build our character and create a meaningful life by how we respond to the realities we face day to day, especially the unexpected ones that are hard, painful, debilitating, and require sacrifice and grit to overcome.

As we conclude another year, the duality of time manifests itself in its simultaneous swiftness and slowness. Life, in its intricate design, artfully interlaces a captivating tapestry unique to each of us, where every thread represents a myriad of experiences, lessons learned, and cherished moments of gratitude.  Let us celebrate the experiences that have shaped us, and may gratitude continue to fuel us as we move forward in 2024.  Happy New Year!

My son took my hand and led me the center of the dance floor while the opening chords of Mike Harris’ “Find your Wings” filled the room. It was his wedding day, and this was our Mother/Son dance.  As we swayed in time to the music, I was fighting back tears.

“It's only for a moment you are mine to hold…

In November, my mom celebrated her 80th birthday.  We hosted a birthday bash in her honor, and it was so great to see old and new friends come out to celebrate her life, her years of service as a skilled and dedicated nurse, and her legacy of help and support.  My sister, Sandy, and I started planning the event weeks earlier, divvying up the tasks and doing our best to channel our inner “event planners”.  One of my tasks was to secure the cake for the event.  The cake needed to be special, worthy of the momentous occasion. 

It takes energy and effort, and lots of grace to change our address. I’m exhausted just thinking about it! However, I am grateful for the gift of change.

I can’t help but smile when I remember the conversation I had with my team March 13, 2020. It was early days in the pandemic, back when we didn’t know what we didn’t know. We made plans to work remotely for a couple of weeks; we would be back to normal and back in the office in no time. Famous last words. A couple of years later, we can now clearly see that normal has been redefined and nothing will be the same as it was prior to the pandemic.

As a little boy growing up in Jamaica, I would gaze up at the sky at the planes passing by with wonder and fascination. I often made paper airplanes from pages ripped from my exercise book, imagining what it would be like to be floating on one as I launched it across the classroom. During playtime, I would find the tallest bamboo tree and shimmy to the top; swaying back and forth in the wind was the closest I got to flying.

Among Americans, the most common New Year's Resolutions have to do with health (eating better, going to the gym, self-care) or loved ones (spending more time with family, finding one's soulmate, etc.). But is it actually worth it to make a New Year's Resolution?

When my kids were little, disagreements among them were inevitable: who would sit in what seat in the car, whose turn it was to do the dishes, whose fault it was that something broke, what TV show to watch, the rules of the board/card/made-up game… As I arbitrated and/or comforted, I would emphasize to them the importance of being kind to each other even in the most trying situations. Equally important, but perhaps more challenging, was helping them understand that being unkind in the face of being wronged was just as egregious as the wrong that was perpetrated against them. Whether we are on the playground or in the boardroom, we build much stronger relationships and create a healthy environment when we remember that it is always more important to be kind than it is to be right.

I’m not ready. I’m lying in a hospital bed being prepped for an emergency C-section. I was still a few days away from my due date. I was in labor. My water broke. The baby was in distress. It was time, but I wasn’t ready. I was about to become a mom for the first time.

I bent my head, eyes closed, as the steamy water cascaded from my head to my toes. The bathroom mirrors had already fogged up. I had finished the “business” of the shower, but I lingered under the warm hug of the water and steam. This was a luxury, and I knew it. I have spent years being very efficient in the shower. Back then, I perceived time and money were being washed down the drain, and I couldn’t afford either. But recently, I have allowed myself to linger; the extra warm shower was therapy. My mind drifted for the thousandth+ time to 4 decades ago, before I knew this luxury…

I walked into the office and sat at the desk. It was my first day at my new job. A mix of emotions, including calm and excitement, were tumbling around inside. I wouldn’t say I was terrified. Well, maybe there was a bit of terror mixed in there somewhere. I realized I had earned the right to be there. I was experienced and qualified. I knew I could do the job. But I also knew there was a lot to learn. I was new to the organization, in a new town, working with a new team. We were enveloped in a global pandemic. Nothing in the world was normal. It took courage, a leap of faith, to make this move.

The air was full of excitement at Independence Park. I spent the morning running around with my friends, enjoying the festivities. I forgot about the hat competition all together. Eventually mom found me. The day was winding down and it was time. I had to put on the flower hat, get up on a stage, and parade in front of everyone in the park, showing off the hat. Somehow that part of the deal had not registered in my brain. I looked around and saw the crowd swelling. The other little girls were being fitted into their hats. The stage was set. The judges were in place. Reality set in. Suddenly, I was gripped with panic.

I was lying on the couch when the door opened. I looked over, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My eyes were sending signals to my brain that my brain was having trouble processing. How could it be?

2020 has been surreal. The past 2 months in particular have been exceptional. The COVID pandemic entered its second wave, hitting the US much harder than it did in the Spring; the drama from the Presidential elections continue to play out in the news; the realities and growing awareness of systemic racism has broken our hearts and we continue the struggle of recognizing that Black Lives Matter; I started a new job and moved to a new town.

On September 11, 2001, we lived in Pensacola, Florida. Tex was stationed at the Naval Air Station, Pensacola, and we lived in housing on base. I was working as the Business Administrator for The Montessori School of Pensacola where all three of our kids were students. There were no televisions at work, and this was before the era of smartphones. I didn’t see the images until later that evening on the news. I knew something horrendous happened in New York but did not fully grasp the gravity of the situation until I saw the news later.

When my older daughter was a little girl and someone asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would say without hesitation, “I want to be the President”. This was not based on a desire to have fame and power. At her tender age, she had a deep love for her country and believed she could make a difference and help people by being the President. This was almost two decades ago and to some people she might as well have said she wanted to be a Fairy Princess or the Queen of England; this was an unrealistic childish pipe dream.

Accordingly to the glowing red digits on the clock radio, it was about 2 a.m. I quietly and carefully eased myself out of the bed. I looked over to make sure Tex was still sleeping. He was, his CPAP machine quietly humming to the rhythm of his breathing. I looked over to the crate next to the wall where our puppy was sleeping. That was my next hurdle. I needed to make it past the crate without her noticing. I moved slowly, inching my way past the crate. She didn’t budge. Great! I did it! I stood in the middle of the bedroom. I hadn’t fully thought out the plan. I just knew I had to get out of the bed. I been lying there for hours trying to ignore the pain and go back to sleep.

Our puppy, Purpose, follows me around the house with unconditional adoration. She is a devoted follower. There is no leadership without followership. At some point in our lives we are going to be following someone else. We don’t always get to pick who will be our leaders. Many of us can readily remember leaders who inspired us to be our best selves; and we can also recall with a shudder the leaders who drove us to vow “I will never be like that when I become a leader”.