Using It All Up

When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and could say, I used everything you gave me.” – Erma Bombeck

My dad had a motto, especially in his retirement years. “I just want to be useful.” And as a retired pastor, that translated to serving on boards, guest preaching, teaching classes, and family stuff like helping me with my house and yard on Saturdays.

And he was very useful. But his usefulness required a lot of flexibility on my mom’s part.

A month or so ago, my 85-year-old mom asked, “Did you see Eleanor Coppola’s obituary in the paper?”

I hadn’t, so we found it and she read me this part, “ ‘There is part of me that has been waiting for Francis to leave me, or die, so that I can get my life the way I want it,’ Eleanor wrote. ‘I wonder if I have the guts to get it the way I want with him in it.’ “

I have a theory – that a lot of women don’t use up all their talent as the quote for this post by Erma Bombeck so beautifully says. That isn’t to say that it doesn’t apply to men, too.

But when it comes to women, it seems that after a lifetime of being flexible for others (relationships, kids, pets), women don’t often get ASKED in the same way that men do. So then it becomes a doubly-hard question about creating life the way as envisioned because it involves crafting the persona, network, and possibly upsetting the status quo at home.

In the case of Eleanor Coppola, it turns out that she died at age 87 before Francis. But she directed her first feature film at age 80. I hope that means she was able to get life the way she wanted it with him in it. In fact, one more quote from her obituary makes me think he was nudging her along:

“ ‘One morning at the breakfast table my husband said, “Well, you should direct it.” I was totally startled,’ Eleanor told The AP. ‘But I said, “Well, I never wrote a script before, and I’ve never directed, why not?” I was kind of saying “why not” to everything.

As we tune in the deep whisper urging us to be useful and share all our talents with the world, I think we should remember to ask, “Why not?

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Great Connectors

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

Planning: The Vacation Edition

Plans are useless, but planning is invaluable.” – Winston Churchill

Miss O has been trying to predict the things she’ll tell her kids she didn’t have when she was young.

After watching a video and wishing she could smell what the person was holding up to the screen, eight-year-old Miss O said, “Someday I’ll be telling my kids that back in the day, we couldn’t smell our videos.”

Hey, it’s as good as anything I could come up with. In fact, I’m a terrible prognosticator. But I’m pretty good at figuring out a plan for things as they pop up.

Which made the podcast conversation Vicki and I had with blogger, writer, and planner, Brian Hannon, (Writing from the Heart with Brian) even more fun. Brian told us about how he plans family trips. He comes up with solid options and then his fellow travelers enthusiastically respond.

Well, that’s the idea at least. So, we talked about what it actually looks like to be a planner who is coaxing everyone along.

Brian brought forward the beautiful sense of calm that comes with having something on the horizon to look forward to. And we talked about how to blend planning and spontaneity.

This is a great podcast episode for the beginning of summer. Brian’s fantastic story-telling sparks our juices for how to enjoy our planned and unplanned vacations!

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

Here’s a sneak peek – you’ll love it! But don’t lean in – our videos don’t have any smell…yet!

Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts OR Listen to it from your computer on Anchor Episode 73: Planning It Out with Brian Hannon

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

Links for this Episode:

Episode 73: Planning It Out with Brian Hannon on Anchor

Two Kinds of People by Brian Hannon

Brian’s blog: Writing from the Heart with Brian

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

Other podcast episodes featuring Brian Hannon:

Episode 58: Creative Heart with Brian Hannon

Episode 44: Hot Tips for Writing About Family with Brian Hannon

Episode 34: How to Write Family Narratives with Brian Hannon

Episode 17: Building a Base with Brian Hannon

Observable Characters

Nothing is more painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.” – Mary Shelley

What are you going to be when you grow up?” must be the most frequent question my young kids are asked. For adults that don’t really know them, it’s a good conversation starter. But I think it also indicates how attached our identities are to our work.

It’s what Vicki Atkinson and I talk about in this week’s episode of the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast. Identity at the unemployment office.

One of the fascinating positions that Vicki has held is as a career counselor at the unemployment office. She gives us a glimpse into how the jobs we do become our identity by telling us the stories of some of the people who she coached.

We talk about how being a helper or a boss manifests even when someone is no longer doing that job.

I love Vicki’s powers of observation and ability to draw thru lines – talents that show up when she writes, tells stories, and in the many professional roles she has played.

Here’s a snippet of the podcast where Vicki tells me about the people she met at the unemployment office (with captions so you don’t even have to have the sound on):

Vicki Atkinson and I are big believers in the power of story – to connect us, to create intergenerational healing, and to make meaning out of the events of our lives. Each episode of our podcast starts with someone telling a story in each episode.

Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts OR Listen to it from your computer on Anchor Episode 72: Smiles from the Unemployment Office

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

Links for this Episode:

Episode 72: Smiles from the Unemployment Office on Anchor

Vicki’s personal blog: Victoria Ponders

Vicki’s post: Different is Good

Vicki’s book: Surviving Sue

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

Related podcast episodes:

Episode 71:  Catching an Edge with Wynne and Vicki

Episode 70: “A” is For Ambivalence with Vicki and Wynne

Episode 69: All You Have To Do Is Ask with Wynne and Vicki

Safety in Stories

The one thing that you have that nobody else has is you. Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision. So, write and draw and build and play and dance and live only as you can.” – Neil Gaiman

Three stories that have come up recently in my house…

#1

Four-year-old Mr. D loves telling the story about the parking ticket I recently got outside my mom’s apartment. Even though I have the pay-to-park app on my phone, I choose not to pay thinking we’d only be inside for 15 minutes. It’s a story I’d rather not think about given that I ended up paying $43 instead of the $2, but I have to admit, he’s told it so many times that it’s starting to get funny.

#2

The other day, Mr. D wanted to wear shoes with laces and put them on himself. He got them on and then tied about 10 overhand knots as we drove to school. I heard him in the back seat say, “Yeah, that looks good.

#3

We bought a small red velvet cake at the grocery store recently. When eight-year-old Miss O had a slice of it, she pushed all the cream cheese frosting to the side. I asked if she didn’t care for it. When she said she didn’t, I swiped up a finger full.Ugh,” she groaned and then added, “Sorry, didn’t mean to ‘yuck’ your ‘yum.’”

The Point

One of the things that I aim for in my house, is that we can express ourselves without judgment. That is, I want to be the place where the kids can tell their stories without worrying how they land.

The funny thing is that it’s had a bonus effect on me where I have to get to talk about the bonehead mistakes I make (like the parking ticket.) I’ve found it’s helped greatly to learn to not let my inner editor curate only the stories I want to talk about.

The Bonus

When I talk with my dear friend and podcast partner, Vicki, I get the boost of knowing she is a really safe person to tell stories to. Not that I always communicate well the first time, but she is such a good and encouraging listener, she brings out the vulnerable and brave me.

By contrast, in our most recent podcast, Episode 71, Catching an Edge with Wynne and Vicki, we talk about the unexpected responses we sometimes get to our stories.

I know I’m not alone in being surprised sometimes by how a story is received. We tell about an experience to a person or persons and then are shocked at how it lands. We thought it was funny and they thought it stupid. We thought it was deep and they only appreciate the surface. Whatever it is, it is out of our control for better or worse.

When our inner editor starts curating the content we share, we sometimes short-circuit our ability to be fully seen. So Vicki and I talk about the healing effect of telling our stories, no matter how they land.

Here’s a snippet of the podcast where I tell Vicki about a recent exchange of stories with a long-time friend (6 minutes with subtitles so you don’t have to have the sound on):

Vicki Atkinson and I are big believers in the power of story – to connect us, to create intergenerational healing, and to make meaning out of the events of our lives. Each episode of our podcast starts with someone telling a story in each episode.

Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts OR Listen to it from your computer on Anchor Episode 71: Catching an Edge with Wynne and Vicki

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

Episode 71 transcript of the podcast

Links for this Episode:

Episode 71: Catching an Edge with Wynne and Vicki on Anchor

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

(featured photo is Mr. D’s well-tied shoes)

It’s Just Like Riding a Bike

I have great respect for the past. If you don’t know where you’ve come from, you don’t know where you’re going.” – Maya Angelou

Riding bikes with my kids has given me a new appreciation for the learning process. That is to say, I’ve come to see “two steps forward, one step back,” in a more growth-minded way.

I bought eight-year-old Miss O a bigger bike (24 inch wheel) with gears. She hopped on and owned it. It was like she aged five years in that one move because it was bigger and sat her up higher.

As a result, four-your old Mr. D got her old bike, a medium sized bike (18 inch wheel). I moved the training wheels over from his small bike. But even with training wheels, he got a huge boost in confidence and speed from having a bigger sprocket.

We’ve spent the week riding everywhere and in all sorts of conditions. We’ve gone round the block so many times we must have worn a groove. Then one night we rode around our local little lake to get pizza. The next night we went up the hill to get pie. All the while, I’m riding behind Mr. D watching him wobble back and forth before he gains his balance, my fingers crossed that the training wheels will hold.

Then, we got the small bike out of the garage to pass on to another kid in the neighborhood. Mr. D hopped on his old bike, now without training wheels.

I held the back of the small bike for a moment. Before any of us could really think about it, Mr. D took off – riding the bike without training wheels. So, Miss O and I took turns running up and down the block a dozen times holding the seat for the start until Mr. D mastered that too.

All this has made me think of the rhythm of growth. Sometimes you have to go back a step to see how far you’ve gone.

It makes me think of the feeling I get when I go back to the town where I went to high school. With the swirl of old memories all around, it’s easier to see where I’ve grown.

Or when I dust off an old favorite recipe and discover how I’m better at trusting the timing.

Or when I hike a familiar trail and feel the burn of my muscles within the certainty that I can make the summit.

Or when I re-read something I wrote years ago and I can discern how it’s gotten easier to put my authentic self on the page.

Sometimes we have to go back to figure out how much we’ve learned.

In Our Element

As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.” – Carl Jung

We rented an AirBnB over the weekend that touted bunk beds in the laundry room. Clearly the charm of this place lay in its location on a beach on Whidbey Island. And that it accepted dogs.

Mr. D has been calmed by water since day one. The babies that don’t like their first bath? Nope, not Mr. D. What did we do for at least an hour on his first day of daycare? Play in water.

I watched him this weekend pouring water with a clam shell for thirty minutes from one hole to another and then back. An incredibly long time for a four-year-old to stay with one focus. If it weren’t for the tide coming in, it looked like he would have done it for hours.

I wonder if we all have an element we are born with that calls to us. For Miss O, it seems to be singing. First mine and my mom’s, and now her own.

If given the option between beaches and mountains, I’d say “mountains.” One step onto a hiking trail and my stress level drops by five notches. Every step gives me further improvement in my mental health, resilience, and sense of humor.

But I’ve spent more time on these rugged beaches of the Pacific NW than mountains since I’ve had kids. And I’ve found the beaches remind me to breathe out all the stale air I hold in. Whether it’s because Mr. D has water and Miss O can sing by the campfire, or because I can walk along the sea and the surf, I’m not sure. Whatever it is, it works magic.

Who cares if the bunk beds are in the laundry room if the location puts us in our element?

(featured photo is mine – Mr. D by the sea)

Lost and Found People

The good road and the road of difficulties, you have made me cross; and where they cross, the place is holy.” – Black Elk, Oglala Lakota Medicine Man

The other day I was sitting at the kitchen table with Miss O. One of the 20-somethings in our lives had just shared with us that she was pregnant and Miss O was so excited.

She asked, “Mommy, how did you tell Nana [my mom] that you were pregnant with me?

I replied, “Well, it wasn’t that much of a surprise with IVF because she knew I went in to have an embryo implanted. Then 10 days later they did a blood test to determine whether I was pregnant. So I think I called her or I texted her.

Then she surprisingly asked, “And she was happy?”

Trying to figure out the phrasing, I raised an eyebrow and replied. “She was thrilled.”

And then Miss O revealed why she’d asked like that, “Even though Bumpa [my dad] had just died?

Oohhh, she was putting together the news with the story that she already knew which is that my dad died just as I was getting pregnant with her.

And then, my not quite 9-year-old daughter, replied, “We are the lost and found people.

Whoa.

I’ve often thought of those months when I was writing a book about my dad, his remarkable life, our connection, and the reward for being open with him when Miss O was in utero. It felt like a dance between birth and death. I was saying good-bye to having him present in life as I waited for Miss O to come. Such a sacred dance.

But Miss O’s comment about lost and found people made me think that maybe we all are. It seems like many new chapters are ushered in after we’ve given something up: a job, a partner, a story we believe about ourself.

And then, when we’ve given it up, we can proceed. Seems like the trick is not to get mired in the lost, so that we keep working towards the found.

We are the lost and found people. I couldn’t be more grateful to my beautiful daughter for pointing that out.

(featured photo is my dad and me when I was 2-years-old)

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.

Endurance Versus Enjoyment

Believe you can and you’re halfway there.” – Theodore Roosevelt

This was originally published on 4/26/2023. Heads up – you may have already read this.


I was recently reminded of the time I did a long-distance bike trip on a bike with mountain biking tires. Here’s how that colossal misjudgment came to happen.

The first time I did a really intense workout to prepare for an upcoming mountain climb, my legs were shaking, I thought I’d pass out or throw up, possibly both, and instead I hung in there with the thought, “I can do anything for 20 minutes.”

And I could. So when it came to the next progression in the training, a fast, steep hike, I was equally as wobbly but thought, “I can do anything for a couple of hours.

By the time it came to actually climb the mountain, I arrived with a 50-pound pack and the mantra, “I can do anything for two days.” I didn’t summit the mountain on that particular attempt but I did prove that I could endure for two days.

So when a friend invited me to do a long-distance bike ride down the California coast and my work schedule meant I could only be on the trip for two days. I thought, “No problem, I can do anything for two days.” It seemed to me that biking is very similar to mountain climbing – takes a lot of leg strength and more importantly, the same endurance muscle.

But I didn’t think long-distance biking was going to be the mainstay of my hobbies so when it came to shipping my bike to the starting point, for reasons of time and money, plus a little ignorance, I just sent my bike that had mountain bike tires. Not super heavy duty, grip the trail mountain biking tires but grippy enough to have a high amount on friction on a paved surface.

By lunch on the first day of the bike trip, my legs were completely gassed. I don’t think I’d experienced that level of fatigue even on the toughest mountain climb I’d done. I made it to the end of the day and then had to immerse myself in an ice bath to have any hope of getting my muscles flushed and restored to ride the second day.

But hey, I can do anything for two days and I made it.

Which is to say, it was a good lesson in endurance. Now when I look at a particular phase with my children that is getting my goat, I think “I can do anything for two years.”

But, and this is a big one for me, I’ve learned that enduring and enjoying are two different things.

On a recent Sunday morning, I was at home with my kids who are now 7 and 3 years old, and they were happily engaged with each other on a project. It left me with 20 minutes of discretionary free time and I was thrilled. As I actually took my time with some self-care, I marveled at the feeling of freedom and enjoyment I was experiencing.

That’s when it hit me. I thought “I can do anything for 20 minutes.” But that’s “anything” said with a sense of wonder and good fortune of an unexpected gift. That’s “anything” that acknowledges the enjoyment that comes with a little lessening of the strictures I tighten around myself. That’s “anything” that remembers that life is to be enjoyed and not just endured.

I’m so good at putting my head down and grinding out the miles to the end of the planned route each day. But it’s completely different training to raise my nostrils to the wind and my eyes to the scenery and notice each mile as it goes by. It’s a practice that is a lot less of a dramatic story tell but instead makes for a story worth telling.

So on Sunday, with a nod to the authors of The Power of Awe, I intentionally savored having unexpected moments to myself and micro-dosed some mindfulness full of gratitude and enjoyment and that made the experience even more impactful.

So I’m entering a new phase of training, one where I’m allowing myself the freedom and unscripted time so “I can do anything for 20 minutes.” I’d like to work up to “I can do anything for 2 days” but I’m taking my workouts slowly.

A Full-Circle Story

Be kind to yourself and share it with the world.” – unknown

The other day I opened my door to an older gentleman who was going door-to-door on behalf of Greenpeace. Let’s call him John. He was warm and friendly and told me he’d grown up in this neighborhood and named the elementary school he attended.

As we were talking about plastic in the ocean, he mentioned that he’d just been talking to a neighbor. She wanted to subscribe for an annual payment. She knew she’d remember to do it because the day he came by was her birthday.

Clearly this neighbor had made an impact on his day. He went on to explain that she and her husband invited him in to sit down as they did the paperwork. It gave him some rest for his aching knees.

I hazarded a guess based on the story he’d told me, “Was it Donna and Bruce?”

Yes,” he laughingly confirmed even though they are two streets away. There are about 25 houses per block in this neighborhood so he must have knocked on about 50 doors between my house and theirs.

So, I told him the story about how I met Donna and Bruce one evening about four years ago. It was early on in the pandemic and my daughter was doing on-line Kindergarten. I was trying to optimize her desk situation. Someone up the street had put a great kids desk out on the curb to give away. I was trying to carry it home with my 5-year-old daughter, my 6-year-old neighbor, and my 1-year-old son in tow.

And then Donna, who I’d never met before, offered to step in and help. Her delightful spirit is just one of the reasons she’s one of my favorite people to run into in the neighborhood.

[The next time I saw Donna after my conversation with John, the Greenpeace guy, I told her that how John told me the story of how her warmth and kindness had made such a difference to him. It was so fun to see her reaction to one of the many touchpoints of positive impact she must deliver in a day.]

After John, the Greenpeace guy left, my kids and I went out for a walk. We came across him sitting on a garden wall on the next street over resting his aching knees. Because of the stories we’d shared, it felt like he was an old friend. We sat down for a moment and chatted with him before we all moved on, still connected by the thread of narrative.

For a story about an a-ha moment Vicki had as a child about the roots of her dad’s big heart, please listen to our Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast: Episode 67: Love the Ones That are Different with Vicki and Wynne

Vicki Atkinson and I are big believers in the power of story – to connect us, to create intergenerational healing, and to make meaning out of the events of our lives. Each episode of our podcast will start with someone telling a story in each episode.

To listen to the podcast, Search (and subscribe!) for Sharing the Heart of the Matter on Apple, Amazon, Spotify or Pocket Casts. Or subscribe to our YouTube channel to see a video clip of each story: @SharingtheHeartoftheMatter.