Tag: gratitude

Life(cycle) of the Party

Posted in life lessonsTagged , , , , , , , , , 83 Comments

“You knew it would be hard and it would be uncomfortable and it might be awkward and you did it anyway. That’s courage.” – Arnold Schwarzenegger

I did it. We did it, I should say. We threw a backyard birthday party for Mr. D’s sixth birthday and hosted 21 kids under the age of eight plus about a dozen parents. And the we? I hired Miss O and two of her 10-year-old friends to help. I also had the invaluable assistance of a young woman who was Mr. D’s pre-school teacher and has become a great family friend.

Here are ten things I seem to learn and re-learn about the life(cycle) of the party.

  1. Parties are a great forcing function. I’m guessing it would be easier to rent a party venue. But I love the opportunity to invest in my home. I try to do a home improvement project and a purge project before every party. I don’t think I sat down for three days leading up to the event. But I laid more pavers to expand my backyard seating area and filled eight bags of dishware, textiles, and toys to give away. That alone made the party a win before it even started!
  2. You have to sleep on it to learn. I walked 22,160 steps on the day of the party. At the end of the day, I was too exhausted to know or feel anything…other than tired. The lessons learned didn’t show up til the next morning.
  3. Even the happiest of events will exhaust you. Mr. D loved his party. It was a fair theme with Crocodile Cave water slide on one side of the yard, an inflatable hot tub on the other and in between a bottle-ring toss game, Skee ball setup, fishing game, and a flipping rings game. After lunch and birthday cake, we made shaved ice cones, cotton candy, applied tattoos and had a ballon art station.

    Mr. D almost fell asleep in his dinner.
  4. You plan, plan, plan… and then let it happen. Miss O had beautifully drawn out the time table for three party phases: WET,  DRYING, and DRY. We had roles assigned for each. We were about 15 minutes into the party when we made our first substitution.
  5. There is that guy at parties regardless of age. In one terrifying moment, I came eyeball-to-eyeball with a six-year-old that said, “I’m going to open the gecko’s cage.” I had to race the kid to the keys. I never thought twice about leaving the enclosure key in the door like we always do.

    The party shtick of that guy (not meant to be gender specific) starts early.
  6. The messy middle happens every time. There was a moment right before birthday cake where it all felt impossible. We took a deep breath and made it through.
  7. No one naturally markets their stuff. Each of the “fair activities” had its own arc. But when the lines at a particular stand ebbed, nobody wanted to be the carnival barker to attract an audience.
  8. Mixing up the ages benefits everyone. In this case it was letting older kids take care of younger kids. It made both ages feel special.
  9. Save time for the after part. My favorite part was after all the guests left. The workers, Miss O, and Mr. D got to really enjoy the fun.
  10. There are a few people that will go the extra mile to appreciate the effort. Keep them close. All the parents were lovely and grateful. A couple went out of the way to tell me afterwards what they appreciated. I suspect these are also the people I know, online and in real life, that take the time to leave good reviews. I want to be more like them.

Looking this over, I think it might be the lifecycle of all the hard things I’ve done. What do you think – is there a predictable arc of big to-dos? Did I miss any lessons learned?

(featured photo from Pexels)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast about collaboration – in our families, friendships, at work and in the world.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

Navigating Unwelcome Surprises

Posted in life lessonsTagged , , , , , , , , 84 Comments

“Living is the art of getting used to what we didn’t expect.” – Eleanor C. Wood

Last week, at an off-leash area for dogs, a dog latched on to my 18-month-old dog, Cooper’s, face. This dog, a pit bull mix, had been showing a lot of interest in Cooper. But Cooper doesn’t have, or hasn’t yet developed, any defensive postures – he doesn’t bark, raise his hackles, or growl. He’s bigger than many of the dogs and mostly runs away.

For whatever reason, this dog latched on to Cooper’s face between his eye and his ear. The dogs weren’t fighting – and neither dog was even growling. The owner was right there and was doing all that he could to get the dog to let go.

I can’t say how long it went on for – it felt like five minutes but could have been only one or two. As it went on, all the humans in the dog park circled around but no one seemed to be able to help the owner get the dog to let go.

And then finally the dog released. Cooper wimpered and scampered away. The owner said to me, “I’m so sorry. We’re never coming here again.” I’d like to report what I said but I have no idea. Maybe nothing.

I checked Cooper as we walked out of the park and he didn’t have any blood or wounds. The side of his face appeared to be a little puffier but undamaged.

These kinds of things always surprise me when they happen. It’s not that I’m unaware that they can. It’s that I’ve found carrying around the armor of anticipation to be too exhausting. It fends off bad and good things equally. It weighs me down too much in a way that keeps me from trying new things.

Instead I’ve come to figure out what works for me to process these things. I sit on my meditation cushion and breathe and pray. I write about it. I tell the story to others and it helps me to get a handle on it myself.

Somewhere during this process after we’d gotten home from the dog park, I started to settle down. The shaky feeling had lessened and after a time, I even stopped saying “I’m sorry that happened” to Cooper every time I looked at him.

Then as the kids settled into bed that night, Cooper featured high in our list of what we were grateful for. Five-year-old Mr. D was glad his buddy was okay. Nine-year-old Miss O pointed out that it was great that the other owner was helping and was apologetic. I was grateful that the kids weren’t there and it wasn’t any worse.

So in the end, we found bright spots in a story that started with “a dog latched on to Cooper’s face.” I’ve found that navigating unwelcome surprises often helps me to dig deep.

(featured photo is Cooper after the incident)

I co-host a storytelling podcast featuring authors and artists with the amazing Dr. Vicki Atkinson. To tune in, search for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Spotify, Apple, Amazon Music or Pocketcasts (and subscribe) or click here. Or the YouTube channel features videos of our interviews. Please subscribe!

My other projects include work as a CEO (Chief Encouragement Officer), speaking about creativity and AI through the Chicago Writer’s Association, and my book about my journey to find what fueled my dad’s indelible spark and twinkle can be found on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith.

You can find me on Instagram and Twitter @wynneleon

Refining Our Wishes

Posted in inspirationTagged , , , , , 52 Comments

“Stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone ought to be.” – Elizabeth Gilbert

I’m going the long way to solve a problem in my house. This is not an excuse for a long post – in fact the post is only 354 words. Just an admission at the outset that I understand there are more expedient ways to address the issue.

Here it is: Mr. D is in a phase where he wants a lot of things. He sees it on tv and then wants to own it. He’s quite tenacious at five-years-old for insisting on what he wants. Right now we have a “wishlist” for these things. It works to a degree but it’s too easy to just add and add and add to it.

So I came up with the idea to build a box that he could write every wish into (to practice his writing). And for every wish, he has to come up with an accompanying thing he’s grateful for to put in the box too.

I also wanted to show him how we can build things. So I started with the leftover wood I had after fixing my kitchen flooring and measured out and cut some pieces of wood to build a box. Two boxes really – one for nine-year-old Miss O as well so she doesn’t miss out.

I triumphantly carried these things upstairs so that the kids could do the work of assembling and decorating these boxes. But then, on the kitchen counter, I roughly fit the pieces together to show off and saw my mistake.

The base is 2.5” wide – the pieces are 1” thick. Assembled that way, the “box” is only a half an inch. It’s not that wishes won’t fit in there. It’s that they’ll never come out. 🙂

So, I set out to show that it’s okay to wish for things, but then we have to work for them. And I ended up demonstrating that sometimes when we put together the pieces of our dreams, it doesn’t work out the way we intended. But that’s okay too – because we get to refine and repeat.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Upward Spirals

Posted in loveTagged , , , , , , 47 Comments

“Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings.” – William Arthur Ward

This was first published on 8/17/2022. I’ve been slowly moving some things I’ve published on other blogs to this one and it’s a great reflective practice for me to remember all the things that touched my heart two years ago – and still do now! Thank you for your patience as I consolidate things if you already read this.

As I was writing my post Good Mood of the Soul, I came across the research that joy and gratitude often result in an upward spiral. The more we focus on gratitude, the easier it is to perceive joy. And when in the midst of joy, we are more open to gratitude.

So here’s the list of things I’m grateful for this week:

For everyone that is willing to read why I am grateful for

That I can still hear the Click and Clack, the Car Talk brothers in the Cars movies.

The quiet way my three-year-old son says, “you are my best mom friend” to me so that I have to lean down to hear. In that position it goes directly from my ear to my heart.

That we have the ability to take pictures with our hearts.

The way it sounds when my daughter says, “I’m thankful for the tooth fairy.” while missing her two front teeth.

For out-of-the blue notes from individuals I admire telling me something I’ve done right.

That I’ve been able to learn, to some degree, how to fix the things that I’ve done wrong.

That broken eggs make food, literal and metaphorical.

For whoever invented yoga pants and made messy hair look sexy, at least on the West Coast. And if that was only in the 90’s and is no longer a thing, for anyone that continues to let me think that.

Speaking of inventions, whoever invented self-sealing water balloons that fill 20 at a time.

That life keeps giving me opportunities to learn that suffering just softens me up for the next great thing.

For every grown-up that showed me what vulnerability looked like when I was a kid.

For every grown-up that shows me what vulnerability is when I’m a grown-up.

For this necklace I bought on a whim and have worn for 20 years that says, “Strength is having a grateful life” and that I have grown into knowing what that means.

Cool sheets on a hot night.

That I have a bed to sleep in.

Green tea on dark mornings.

That connect-the-dots works in art and in life.

For the human traits of kindness, courage and generosity.

For the Divine traits of grace, faith, hope and love.

For the times I’ve been on my knees needing loyalty, courage, generosity, grace, faith, hope and love – and that what I’ve received in those moments has opened me up to knowing what those traits are in my bones.

I am grateful for upward spirals.

What are you grateful for this week? What have you learned about upward spirals?

(featured photo from Pexels)

Writing Worth Doing

Posted in writingTagged , , , , , , , , 55 Comments

“Words have magical power. They can bring either the greatest happiness or deepest despair.” – Sigmund Freud

Last Friday was Mr. D’s last day at his pre-school/daycare. He’s been there for nearly four years. In three different classrooms with so many great teachers, this school has been such a wonderful influence.

When I went to write the amazing staff a thank you note, I did so through a veil of tears. When I was done, it felt like a piece of writing as worthy as anything else I’ve composed because:

  1. It was from my heart
  2. I provided others with a perspective on their impact that would be hard for them to know otherwise
  3. The feelings it elicited were worth rippling out in the world

Here’s the note:

This morning before [Mr. D] left for school, he took his plate to the sink, washed his hands after going to the bathroom, and used his words when he wanted to play with something his sister had. Those three skills are just some of the wonderful building blocks that he learned in his time at GLPCC.

I know it’s hard to measure the positive impact that you have on one child or one family’s life. Just as a stream doesn’t count the rocks it touches as it flows, the kindnesses and fundamentals you all bestow with your patience, creativity, and caring make such a difference.

I get choked up thinking about all the ways your consistency and hard work have made my life better during the years D has been at GLPCC. From the pandemic to surviving the hard drop off days, I have been able to navigate life and work because I was absolutely certain D was in good, kind and loving hands.

So I send you all immense gratitude for the amazing work that you do. And if there is any day that feels tough – think about what our world would look like if everyone took their dishes to the sink, washed their hands, and used their words when they wanted something. It would be amazing. You all are building a better world.

Have you written something simple that turned into a worthwhile project?

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Great Connectors

Posted in podcastTagged , , , , , , 38 Comments

“The angel seeing us is watching through each other’s eyes.” – Rickie Lee Jones

Isn’t it interesting when others know us well enough that they have great recommendations of who we should meet? In this case, I’m thinking of author, blogger, and retired teacher, Pete Springer and his uncanny ability to suggest connections.

It’s like being a matchmaker of writers, thinkers, and talkers.

So, in this week’s episode of our podcast, Vicki and I talk with Melanie McGauran, someone Pete fixed us up with. Melanie is a former newspaper reporter and has a beautiful blog, Leavingthedooropen.com.

Melanie tells the story of her friend, doctor and educator, Lissa McKinley. As Lissa goes through her own journey of cancer, it informs her abilities as a doctor, teacher, and humanist.

Melanie tells us of her long friendship with Lissa, starting in all-girls preparatory school, and how she drew inspiration from Lissa both in life and in death.

We talk about how writing helps touch others long after we’re gone, especially when we go through similar experiences.

Melanie tells us about how Lissa’s joy and gratitude rippled out — even more so now that she has shared it with us.

We also get to hear about Melanie’s inspiration as a writer and newspaper reporter, starting with the legacy of her grandparents who were well-known artists.

This is a great episode with a fabulous writer about gratitude, empathy, and connecting with others. Through words, actions, and sometimes even tattoos.

[We had some technical difficulties so you don’t see Vicki in this YouTube clip but you will hear her in the full podcast episode.]

So I know you’ll enjoy the scenic and beautiful places we go when we share the power of story.

We know you’ll love it!

Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts.

And subscribe to our YouTube channel to see a video clip of each story: @SharingtheHeartoftheMatter.

Links for this Episode:

Podcast Friday! Episode 74: Remembering Friends with Melanie McGauran

Melanie’s Blog: Leavingthedooropen.com – Real Storytelling

Saving Lissa – Leavingthedooropen.com by Melanie McGauran – the source post for this episode

A New Me – Leavingthedooropen.com  by Melanie McGauran – a post about getting her tattoo

Vicki’s personal blog: Victoria Ponders

Vicki’s recently released book: Surviving Sue

Wynne’s book about her beloved father: Finding My Father’s Faith

Upward Spirals

Posted in inspirationTagged , , , , , , 60 Comments

“The morning whispers hope, the afternoon sings of possibilities, and the evening reminds us to cherish the moments. Embrace each part of the day with gratitude.” – unknown

This was originally published on 8/17/2022. Heads up – you may have already read this.

As I was writing my post last week, Good Mood of the Soul, I came across the research that joy and gratitude often result in an upward spiral. The more we focus on gratitude, the easier it is to perceive joy. And when in the midst of joy, we are more open to gratitude.

So here’s the list of things I’m grateful for this week:

For everyone that is willing to read what I am grateful for

That I can still hear the Click and Clack, the Car Talk brothers in the Cars movies.

The quiet way my three-year-old son says, “you are my best mom friend” to me so that I have to lean down to hear. In that position it goes directly from my ear to my heart.

That we have the ability to take pictures with our hearts.

The way it sounds when my seven-year-old daughter says, “I’m thankful for the tooth fairy.” while missing her two front teeth.

For out-of-the blue notes from individuals I admire telling me something I’ve done right.

That I’ve been able to learn, to some degree, how to fix the things that I’ve done wrong.

That broken eggs make food, literal and metaphorical.

For whoever invented yoga pants and made messy hair look sexy, at least on the West Coast. And if that was only in the 90’s and is no longer a thing, for anyone that continues to let me think that.

Speaking of inventions, whoever invented self-sealing water balloons that fill 20 at a time.

That life keeps giving me opportunities to learn that suffering just softens me up for the next great thing.

For every grown-up that showed me what vulnerability looked like when I was a kid.

For every grown-up that shows me what vulnerability is when I’m a grown-up.

For this necklace I bought on a whim and have worn for 20 years that says, “Strength is having a grateful life” and that I have grown into knowing what that means.

Cool sheets on a hot night.

That I have a bed to sleep in.

Green tea on dark mornings.

That connect-the-dots works in art and in life.

For the human traits of kindness, courage and generosity.

For the Divine traits of grace, faith, hope and love.

For the times I’ve been on my knees needing loyalty, courage, generosity, grace, faith, hope and love – and that what I’ve received in those moments has opened me up to knowing what those traits are in my bones.

I am grateful for upward spirals.

What are you grateful for this week? What have you learned about upward spirals?

The March of Time

Posted in inspirationTagged , , , , 55 Comments

“Patience is a bitter plant, but its fruit is sweet.” – Chinese Proverb

I’m not friends with March. As a month, it’s long and slow. It has no holidays, in the U.S. at least. It feels like a placeholder month to me. March is the month in which I’m more likely to be irritated that my eight-year-old daughter, Miss O, has used my Tupperware for slime, my four-year-old son, Mr. D, only brushes the outside of his teeth, and Cooper the dog thinks that keep away is a fun game.

March wreaks havoc with my already-prevalent tendency towards impatience. It feels like the month that the year is most pregnant. Something great is about to burst onto the scene but for now, it’s nothing we can see or hold.

So, yesterday, on my third day of my penance, also known as March, that I made waffles with jam inside. Miss O said, “We are so lucky. And it’s not just me that’s lucky, but our whole family.”

Dang. I’m being an ingrate. But as she said that, I also realized that what I’m pregnant with at this moment is hope. Yes, the laundry hasn’t been done, the dishwasher needs to be emptied, I haven’t started my taxes, and the yard looks like a mud pit interspersed with construction toys.

But I’m hopeful that some of the projects we started will get done. That some of the lessons we’ve been learning will stick. And that I will learn to be patient while the Higher Power works hand in hand with sunshine to make it happen.

For all of my childhood, one of our biggest family celebrations was Easter. My mom would spend all of March making me a new Easter dress, measuring, sewing, trying it on, usually right up to the night before.

Maybe that’s one of the seeds of my impatience with March. Waiting for the resurrection. Whether or not that matches your theology, I think Spring brings the hope of better things to come. I just have to remember to be grateful. And also note that bird song, blooms, and better sunshine are worth waiting for.

(featured photo from Pexels)

I’m Glad You’re Here

Posted in loveTagged , , , , , 51 Comments

“When you love someone the best thing you can offer is your presence. How can you love if you are not there?” – Thich Nhat Hanh

We were sitting in the family room of the small AirBnB cabin we’d rented for President’s Day weekend when I heard my four-year-old son, Mr. D quietly say to my friend, Eric, who had joined us. “I’m glad you’re here.”

It’s a sentiment that I’ve heard both of my children say on different occasions, locations, and to different friends. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we’re here.

It’s completely unprompted by me and I’ve never noticed them saying it at the moment of arrival. Usually it’s uttered calmly in genuine camaraderie for an adult that has shown up – physically and emotionally.

I find it to be one of the most remarkable compliments a kid can give. After all, at ages eight and four, they aren’t in charge of where we go or who comes along. But when they find the presence of another person to be comforting/fun/engaging/stimulating, they say so. Genuinely.

Upon reflection, it’s another thing my kids are teaching me. To know when I’m happy to be somewhere and in good company, and to express it.

So, dear blogging friends, I’m glad you are here. Thank you for reading.

ON A RELATED NOTE: Vicki Atkinson and I were lucky enough to talk with Edgerton award winning playwright, musician and author, Jack Canfora on the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast episode released today. Part of the conversation is about how our writing is one way we show up. It’s a delightfully fun and interesting episode, please listen! Episode 55: Master Class in Creativity with Jack Canfora Part I. Also, there’s a bonus video clip in that linked post.

With Me Everywhere

Posted in loveTagged , , , , , 55 Comments

“There is no where you could go that I won’t be with you.” – Moana

In a tradition suggested by a Jewish friend, I burn a Yahrzeit candle every year on the anniversary of my dad’s death. The ritual, as I understand it, is supposed to celebrate our loved ones and bring them close as the candle burns for 24 hours.

I’ve had to modify the tradition slightly since I’ve had kids since Mr. D in particular is fond of blowing out candles. So I light the candle and then hide it around the house until the kids leave. [“Sorry if the candle brings you to the laundry room, Dad.”]

With or without the candle ritual, my dad seems to be especially close at this time of year. The anniversary of his death is November 7th. On November 6th of last year, I received an incredible email from my soon to be dear friend, the amazing, talented, and incredibly wise Vicki Atkinson, with notes from a wonderfully deep read of my book about my dad, Finding My Father’s Faith.

The conversation then went on to be the beginning of our close friendship, even though we’ve never met in person, as well as our partnership in creating the Sharing the Heart of the Matter blog and podcast. But it started with my dad. And Vicki’s incredibly open heart, of course.

And then on November 4th of this year, I got a delightful email from another wonderful blogging friend, Jane Fritz of the Robby Robin’s Journey blog with some great humor. In our email exchange, Jane said, “They made me think of your father, and I never even knew him!”

Two things that strike me about this. [I’d like to make it three because my dad loved having three points in his sermons but I’ll just leave it at two for now.]  

The power of writing is amazing. In these examples provided by Vicki and Jane, they have a sense of my dad because I write about him so often. Putting words around the people we love creates connection to know us and them. Writing about my dad has not only helped me to clarify and cement what I learned from him, but it has also allowed others to meet him, even after his death.

Which is my segue to the next point – death isn’t as final as it seems. Of course I don’t know what happens when our loved ones are beyond the veil, but I can feel times when they are tantalizingly close. I’ll forget it’s the anniversary of my beloved dog Biscuit’s death until I see the golden patch of sunlight on his favorite place to lie that oddly shows up on January 13th, even though sunshine that time of year is not a given.

Or the touch of my dad in these emails from others, bringing him close and making me comprehend that there is no where that I can go that he won’t be with me.

For a post about a way that I found to move through my grief, please see Gratitude versus Greed on the Sharing the Heart of the Matter blog.