Every week, I read the obituary section of The Economist. There, a staff writer stitches together a patchwork portrait of accolades, achievements, and failures. Writing an “About Me” section feels like a proto-obituary…but I shall try.
I savor a good question and I am always pulling at the edges of ideas, asking why, and imagining a new approach.
I stay up late to watch midterm election returns. Old copies of the New Yorker clutter my already-too-full bookshelves. I am a story-teller at heart and I love a good tale.
I was a rower in college and still delight in the stillness of pre-dawn water, although I now take in the quiet atop my paddle board. The spreading trees, winding trails, and wide horizons bring me great joy.
I studied political science, earned an MBA, and am in the midst of M.Div studies. I am also a CHEK Level 2 Holistic Life Coach. I’ve worked in Nairobi, consulted in Fiji, led cohorts in Ghana, and studied in Bloomington.
My journey through loss has dramatically changed my perspective on what it means to be well. I have collided with the limits of my endurance and my strength and I am learning to embrace the created rhythms of rest and rejuvenation. I like the slowness of a deep yoga pose and the sun-drenched taste of food harvested from my garden.
I am the mother of four intense, imaginative, children. The days are marked by adventure, emotion, and so many words. However, there will always be something incomplete about the above sentences: I am actually the mother to five. I buried a daughter on a bleak February afternoon eight years ago. I ache to hold her again.
My youngest son was born with a congenital heart defect. He was less than a week old when doctors sliced into him for the first time. The last four years are marked by procedures and hospital waiting rooms.
I am married to a good man. He is creative, warm, resourceful and brimming with adventure. The disappointment, struggle and failure of the last twelve years have reduced us and laid bare the naïveté of a young “I do”, but we continue to choose commitment and discover delight as we journey together.
I believe that we are deformed and reformed by our encounters with pain.