Keep telling the Story of love

Cover - Keep Telling the Story of Love

With a heart full of love, I bring you this 32-page collection of writing and poetry:

My mother sighed as if exhaling a huge weight. “That’s true,” she said. “Before the surgery, I was never able to really love. I mean, I loved you – and your sisters – but I couldn’t trust that you loved me. I was so stiff and self-conscious, always doubting myself.

“But after the surgery I went through this opening where now I just love you. I don’t worry about whether you love me. I just, you know, love you. And then I can feel the love. ” 

And then she said the most remarkable thing…

“Back then, when I was in the hospital, when I almost died, God came and talked to me. We were walking toward the light and I asked him, ‘Can I have just a little more time?’ God asked me, ‘Why do you need more time?’ And I said, ‘I want to go back and just once, really experience love. I just want to fully love. I know how to do that now.’”

This ebook includes essays and stories  – and a little poem that I wrote called, ‘Stand in Joy’. 

It’s about our tender humanity – from open heart surgery to aging ungracefully – and our vulnerability, to one another, to hurricanes, floods and other forces of nature – and to our own middle-of-the-night fears,

The ebook includes:

There is no broken you

  • There is no broken you
  • Turn sideways into the light
  • As if love is breathing your heart

What to do with suffering

  • Your own suffering
  • The suffering of others
  • “Everyone suffers, you can’t give up”
  • Shifting out of suffering

When the world seems to be falling apart

  • Stand in joy
  • Cracking the box – The courage to release what is not love
  • There are always helpers
  • Wind at the windows
  • What I am remembering: Notes from the post- Sandy blackout

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There is a way to make stress (or peace) out of any situation. I sit outside on the lawn swing; surrounded by beauty – the dew-jeweled grass, a white-gold sunrise, my book open beside me, a cup of tea, all my iTools – lap- top, phone. And yet, here is this stress. What can I do?

A few years ago, my dad said something that really resonates with me: “We’re all disabled,’ he said. “Some of us wear it on the outside. Some, on the inside.”

Writing this, I think of my yoga teacher, who has spent the last three months on the floor of her bedroom after a fall – and a back injury. I think of my husband, who wakes up every morn- ing in pain – and figures out how to get through it.

I think of friends, family members and clients struggling with depression, cancer, botched surgery and broken marriages. I think of the elders at my father’s nursing home, slumped in their wheelchairs after strokes, paralysis and Alzheimer’s. 

I think of their families, devastated, guilty – walking through the emotional olympics of watching someone you love suffer and being unable to stop it.

I’m reminded of another teacher: the homeless woman I met 25 years ago in Grand Central Station who, when I gave her two slices of pizza I’d saved from the weekly office party, looked deep into my eyes and spoke from a deep well of wisdom, “Go around the corner and really make a difference.” When I did, I found hundreds of hungry people standing in line for a paper bag lunch offered, once a day, by the Coalition for the Homeless. That woman inspired me – and so did those hungry, hum- bled, homeless people whom I met and served for several years.

We are all disabled by something. It’s what we make of it all that matters.