Reflecting on a life-changing year for me and the gifts it’s given me to take into 2024.

The reason it’s been so long since I updated the blog.

A short post about the shift I’ve made in my business going into the new year, and how I intend to help my customers unleash more magic in their lives (while I do the same).

Grief isn’t done with me yet. Not sure it ever will be. Especially if I don’t learn to be still a little more often.

On dissatisfaction, healing from burnout, and losing my voice. (And maybe finding it again.)

There is an old joke that goes, "How do you eat an elephant?"

"I don't know, how do you?"

"One bite at a time."

The not-so-hidden truth in here can be applied to so many things—projects, goals, ginormous meals. But today, I'm going to talk about how I have found this true when tackling emotional hardship.*

*No elephants were harmed in the making of this blog post.

Two years ago, when I began this journey, I was terrified. I was newly grieving. I didn't know why this was the story God gave me to write, but I did know that it was the one I was supposed to write. Here are some early reviews that confirmed that to me.

Two years later, we are still completely humbled when we consider the massive wave of support we received when Levi died. I am convinced that the support of our community through that first difficult year had a good deal to do with the progress we made in our healing. Yes, the work of grief must be done on an individual basis. But knowing that we were never alone had a significant impact on how brave we were in approaching that work.

A day at a time, the log jam is loosening and the ideas are flowing. The sun is coming back, energy is returning, and I am pulling myself blinking from the retreat of hibernation. For my own mental and emotional health, this year needs to be less about driving myself and more about reducing commitments, taking care of myself, and finding my passion again. It needs to be about healing.

Some years, the garden just sucks. But this year, my flourishing herbs and giant carrots and surprise petunias all worked together to heal my hurting heart. And I am so grateful for it.

Bitter or better? We can choose how we heal from loss. It's all in what we focus on.

It's been quiet on stage here at Winters' Day In.

But so, so far from quiet backstage.

Yesterday was the four-month anniversary of Levi's heaven birthday. Thanks to some wonderful friends, I got to spend the weekend at a scrapbooking retreat, and chose to use that time to add pages to Levi's memory album. And while doing so, I remembered the reasons I have to be thankful.

Crisis is hard. Grief hurts. But I would much rather be a strong, tall sunflower, or an intricate and complex bonsai, each a masterpiece of beauty, than a poor, coddled sprout that dies young in the luxury of inadversity.