This was the year of the break-up, the death, or the deep loneliness - and today is a reminder of the disruptive life events and the world that is not-how-you-want-it-to-be.

I hope you have some good people around you, ones that can look up from their own plans or chocolates to give you a hug, a coffee, or just a listening ear.

Maybe solstice is the invitation you need – if you don’t feel abundant or generous - if this year was hard and cold and only looks to be more of the same. 

The end of the year is a naturally reflective time where we set revenue goals and resolutions.  For forward-thinking companies, it is also a time both to celebrate and to mark loss.

Holidays can be hard: instead of being marked by Hallmark charm/glowing gratitude, they can be an aching reminder of pain.

Undoubtedly, you also have people at work, in your neighborhood, in your family, who will scrape against Mother’s Day. Who can you reach out to this week?  It doesn’t have to be fancy or perfect. 

“No, I think it is just as likely that this year, my marriage will fall apart, one of my children will get scabies and another will get sick and die of leukemia.”
 
I remember spitting those words out in late December, answering a well-meaning friend who asked me what I was hoping for in the coming year and if I really believed that God had good things in store for me.

It happens on the sidelines of lacrosse games or standing in line at the grocery:  a seemingly innocent conversation starter from a new friend, perfect stranger, or casual acquaintance.
 
“And how many children do you have?”
 
How to answer?  As a parent of a dead child, I teeter on the edge of my response. 

I was back in the bedroom when I heard the breaking:  ceramic crashed against the tile.  I knew in a moment:  it was one of the birds. 

In the grey and grinding months after our daughter, Mercy Joan, died, my mother gave me a set of seven ceramic birds.  “A reminder that you will always be a family of seven.”  I displayed them on our mantle…poignant, a little cheesy, and unfortunately vulnerable to the daily antics of Magnus.
 
I heaved myself into the hallway, emotion rising, and found a stunned Magnus, frozen in horror over the wreckage of the birds. 

I can remember the first Mother's Day after my daughter, Mercy Joan, died.  Everything inside of me felt out of step with the holiday. 

Father’s Day is this Sunday (June 20). And there is (probably) someone in your life that is going to have a hard holiday.

I yelled at Luke, threw a book across the room, and was so bone weary I couldn’t even cry. Mother’s Day, 2011. Eight weeks after I buried my daughter, Mercy Joan. I was not OK. The day is right around the corner (May 9). And Mother’s Day is so much more complex than the Hallmark cards make it look…

Empathy shows up in your calendar. Because our calendars manifest what is important to us. And as much as I want to be a person that supports those around me, the needs are too big and I often get caught up in the moment. That is why I plan for empathy in my calendar.