Ode to Kate on Your 19th Birthday

July 8, 2026

My Dearest Kate,

Happy, Happy 19th Birthday!  

Let me begin by saying--I love you. I love you. I love you and that I have so much gratitude for the gift of having a front row seat to your journey.  

This past year, you began college and Dad and I were gobsmacked and so proud to be at your Wesleyan productions--from set design, costume construction, stage management to props, you dove deeply into the world of theater.  Seeing you in your element being mentored by instructors who have helped you grow your skills and strengthen your confidence is remarkable.  And even as I write this, you're feverishly working on a Cosplay costume that you built from scratch--designing the pattern, sewing complex components (French seams are pretty cool) and culminating the ensemble for competition next week. 

It's also been your first time living away from home and while I thought I wouldn't survive it, turns out that I can and you really are an expert in your own life--managing hard classes, navigating a roommate, deciding which parts of the social scene you like and don't and how to make peace with a small room and shitty laundry machines.

It was also so much fun to see you in Europe as you experienced West End theater productions, vintage shops, delicious coffee and began dreaming about possible study abroad and grad school opportunities.

I love that you are passionate about the things you're passionate about and that you meticulously take the time to do those things right--whether in relationships, academics, your job, or your craft--you don't settle and I am so inspired by that.

Last week, Dad and I took you to Chicago to celebrate your birthday.  As the middle child, it was the first time we ever had that much concentrated time with just you.  Between a concert, an afternoon at the beach, a play, meals, coffee and 16-hours of drive time, we got to share good questions and hear what really matters to you.  I don't think I'll ever forget that.

As you embark upon the last year of your teens, remember that you are enough--all of you. Continue to trust in your intuition. Use your instincts to jump or course correct. Don't be afraid to wander down a new path. Keep reflecting on the people and experiences that make you feel alive. Recognize that feeling down or unsure or unsteady or scared is all part of it and that you're right where you're supposed to be. And when you feel wobbly, please know that on your terms, I'm here to listen, to laugh/scream with you, to get coffee with you, to plan a way through and to remind you that you're not alone.

There's so much good and beauty in the world and you are definitively part of that. And so, I leave you with the blessing that we've given to you since Kindergarten, "May God bless your mind so you can learn, your ears to be a good listener, your mouth to speak kind words and your heart to feel love."

I love you so, so much,

Mom

Ode to 51 Birthday Candles

 May 6, 2026

Happy, Happy 51st Birthday to Me!

As I write, I am mindful of the fact that I've likely lived more of my life than I have left of it which gives me pause.  Many years ago, when my first child was born, I remember watching Steve Jobs' commencement address to Stanford's Class of 2005.  In it, he said that death is the single best invention of life and that time is limited.  He also shared that while no one really wants to die, everyone-particularly recent college grads-should take time to listen to their intuition instead of their parents or the worlds' expectations, as it knows exactly why they were called to be here.

I remember taking this to heart when I started making unconventional choices like leaving my career post graduate school to stay at home and raise our children.  And again, when I decided to go back to the marketplace and start a mediation private practice. And again, when we decided to use our money for education and experiences which didn't add up on paper.

And so, particularly as my children grow and our oldest will graduate from college next year, it's a strange and marvelous place to be--wondering why I am meant to be here and what I have left to do.

One of the most freeing parts of aging-aside from the truly giving minimal fucks part-is the recognition that all of the minute things that seemed to carry so much weight really have no more bearing.  Getting worked up about a child's grade, a social event, a conversation with a family member, a car repair, decor for a party, etc. just doesn't matter.  And the reason it doesn't matter is because after so much lived experience, you finally understand what does--people, relationships, memories, promises, unconditional love, hope, commitment, connection.  And after seeing people that I love die and watching the aftermath of the lives of those left, I realize that all of this is short--and when we miraculously wake up each morning--it should be in gratitude.

When the astronauts from the Artemis II mission came back to Earth, they shared that everything out there in the universe is so black except for the oasis of the planet that we live on--and that the one binding truth is that we are all living, breathing human beings who elementally are the same. And because when we're born, no one tells us how many days we get to be here--we mistakenly think that it's forever-but it's not.

Steve Jobs died at the age of 56. People who I love have died younger. And so recognizing that time is of the essence, the big questions I'm wrestling with are what to do with my hands, feet, heart and mind now that I'm no longer mothering in the way I used to.  How to serve and love others in the ways that I have been so kindly the recipient of?  What to leave behind and how to use my time and gifts well?

I hope that in this 51st year, I can continue to shed the worry and doubt that often keep me from plunging into the things and relationships that matter most.  I pray that I will trust in my purpose for being here and that I won't squander the gift of life.  I yearn to use my written words to foster hope and connection.  I want to keep serving as a bridge for people in conflict helping them to see a different way.  I am excited to celebrate milestones with my children and to continue conversations about life's big questions. And, while I climb a mountain every day, I am infinitely grateful to share base camp with my husband--my partner--my love--as I work to leave something meaningful behind.

Here's to the beginning of a new year and a deep dive into the 50's--I hear it's a really beautiful place to be.

All my love,

Me

Ode to 22 Years of Marriage

 April 17, 2026

My Dearest Ray,

Happy Twenty Two Years of Marriage!

Let me begin by saying I'm sorry that this ode is a belated one--but maybe, apropos given our life station.

How do I begin to share a snapshot of where we find ourselves 22-years into our union--to begin, our 21-year old son is in Malaga, Spain on holiday from his study abroad semester in Copenhagen.  Our 18-year old daughter is finalizing her first year of college having completed multiple theater productions and our 15-year old daughter just got her Learner's Permit and is saving to do a service trip to the Dominican Republic. Meanwhile, you have never been busier with clients and I am still a divorce mediator teaching at Creighton.  

And somehow, we still find each other--in multiple daily written and voice to audio texts, on long walks through Elmwood Park, at the espresso machine groggy in the kitchen, coming and going while exchanging logistical updates and kisses at the front door, and in countless shared articles, podcast interviews, and memes remarking on the dismissal state of U.S. leadership or lack thereof and inspiring messaging from the Pope, bravery of the Artemis astronauts, and  goodness of people we know.

We have curated a really beautiful life that I am deeply grateful for.  

To be honest, I can hardly believe that in a few short years, I will have spent more of my life with you than without you.  And in that time, you have taught me so much about what it means not only to be a good partner, friend, and co-parent, but also, a really great human being.

And when I reflect, I'm mindful of three primary ways you model unconditional love for me.  First, you are fully the fuck in it.  You listen to my fears, my crazy writing/speaking dreams, my insecurities, my over the board, 'what if's?' and you greet them usually with a big bear hug, an offer to make my favorite coffee/tea drink, a hunkering down in the seat next me, and full eye contact as I go on and on likely about something you've heard many times before.  Then, you wait until I'm done and ask what I'd like in the moment--most of the time I say--to know that it will be okay--and you calmly say--look at our life and all of the ways that it has all been more than okay.

Second up, you have boundless energy for our family.  Whatever we need or want to explore--you make it happen--including a magical dream trip this spring to Europe to see our son in Copenhagen, a Michelin star dinner because it was his dream, a trip to London's West End and tour of the Globe because it was the girls' dream, and endless trips to patisseries, cafes, and the hunt for the perfect scarf because it was my dream. You always remind us that life is for the living and that we should do the thing that our heart is yearning for and that often, the first step is just putting one foot in front of the other--making the telephone call, sending the email, creating a game plan, trusting that we can course correct when needed and that it's more about the trying imperfectly than the landing.  And to that end, you have more optimism and consistency than anyone I've known; and I'm thankful that you frequently let me borrow it when I'm scared to jump into the unknown.

Finally, you are not interested in what the world says is or is not possible or what the latest fad is--you are grounded in yourself, your values, and your deep commitment to your faith and your family--and because of that I always (and I know the kids feel the same) am your priority and I never have to prove my worthiness.  You love me for me and encourage me to be more and more of me with each passing year--and this kind of love frees me and us to grow and change in the world and to greet each other at the beginning and end of our day's journey.

As we enter into this twenty-third year, may we embark upon fun and adventure together believing that as the kids graduate from college and head into the world for their own adventures, we have cultivated a durable, sustainable, beautiful love that keeps us grounded in our commitment so that we can pursue our individual dreams. May we find ourselves on many walks, drinking delicious espresso drinks, discussing incredible movies/books/interviews, sharing countless motivational family group chats, exploring new spaces, ranting over political ridiculousness, praying for peace, serving our community, and remembering that this life we've built is a good one.

What a gift you are to me.   

All my Love,

Kelly

Ode to Sam on Your 21st Birthday

February 8, 2026

My Dearest Sam,

Happy, Happy 21st Birthday!!

I can hardly believe that you're 21-years old AND studying abroad in Copenhagen AND that I'm not the only blogger in the family!  It's been amazing keeping track of all of your incredible adventures through the eyes of your camera and masterful writing.

It reminds me of when I was your age studying in Greece and Turkey.

Aw man, Sam, there are so many things I want to share with you, but in a weird way, I feel like as you've grown and gone away to college, that I've really lucked out and been able to have many meaningful, beautiful conversations with you--particularly when you were home for a month before heading to Europe.

Often, we grabbed hats, gloves, and all of the big questions we could muster and made multiple loops around Elmwood Park sharing stories, getting into the weeds, picking up acorns (to remind us of our potential) and wrestling with the unanswerable.  I think I've kind of been waiting for this closeness in our relationship.  It's the gift of a lifetime to journey and to learn from and with you.

Over the years, people would tell dad and me that you remind them of an old soul and that your focus on the things that matter and your loyalty to your friends and family is unparalleled.  So, while I would love to offer you pieces of advise or words of wisdom--it's hard to encourage you to do anything differently, because you've got such a north star guiding you that it's both inspiring and comforting.

The one thing that fifty years of life does bring is the gradual understanding that the questions are infinitely more interesting and more true than the answers.  This is why when you declared studio art and philosophy as your majors I was thrilled beyond measure.  I knew you'd be reading the good thinkers and asking the hard questions as you examined what it means to live a good life.  

I'm not very good at it, but I'm learning that getting comfortable with uncertainty and not knowing is the mark of peace.  And that following your heart/gut/intuition/longing/yearning/curiosity/wonderment/hope/despair/concern/belief will never steer you wrong.  The danger lies in doing what you think the world wants you to do to prove your worth or your value.

So, let me say it now--no matter where you go, who you meet, what you study, where you work, who you love--you are a child of God with a purpose and a free will and a big, beautiful, wild, unique, precious life...so, live, really, live fully into it knowing that it doesn't have to look like anyone else's except for yours.  And that is the tricky part--because the world won't always understand or even condone your choices--they'll tell you that smart people do this or pragmatic people do that or strategic people work here or successful people look like this or love like that.  Fuck them.  

Stand up straight.  Walk into the rooms.  Be brave.  Tell your story. Share your dreams and don't be afraid to be the only one listening. 

And as you grapple with internships in other states, graduate school or jobs, relationships and what is meant to be--trust that if you remain open and let your voice be the loudest, you'll know when it's time to throw yourself at something or to pivot gracefully and move toward something else.  And as you do so, keep taking your cameras and journals with you-document it all.  Remind yourself of the incredible architecture, the extraordinary food, the loud, beautiful, kind people, bike riding and metro hopping and all of the culinary meals with newfound friends from across the globe, and say to yourself--this life, my life--isn't always easy, but it's really, really good.

Here's to so many blessings and adventures in this 21st year and may all of your memories bring you back to your 2026 mantra of wild independence.  

I could not love you more,

xoxo, Mom

 

Ode to Claire on Your 15th Birthday

My Dearest Claire Bear,

Happy, Happy 15th Birthday!

What an incredible year you've had--chock full of so many milestones--8th grade graduation from SMM, beginning of high school at Duchesne, and now both of your siblings away at college.

This is the first time in your life that it's just been you, dad and me at home without Sam and Kate.

Many days, I think of you like this...

And then, other days, I think of you like this...

You are this unique, brilliant amalgamation of wickedly intelligent, incredibly kind, stunningly beautiful, utterly precocious, unGodly persistent, feistily creative, and the strongest advocate I've met in the world. To put it simply, you cannot be pinned down.  You are a dynamic dance of it all.

This past year had you saying goodbye to a school that our family had been a part of for fifteen years--it was beautiful to watch you share your 8th grade Confirmation with Kate as your sponsor and all of our family as you graduated.

Next, you passed the baton and helped to celebrate Kate as she graduated from Duchesne and you got ready to enter as a freshman.

And during this transition, it has been absolutely incredible to witness you forge your own path.  You have immersed yourself completely with a fantastic group of friends, acted in your first play, began ringing bells in the bell choir, applied and got accepted to the Kent Bellows art fellows program at the Joslyn and have truly and completely hit the ground running.  It's been inspiring to watch and has us continually trying to catch our breath.

And, throw in that you started mowing lawns to make some nice pocket cash and found a great friend in an older woman from church who has been so kind to you.

And throughout all of it--the figuring out how to make new friends, how to manage your time, how to integrate into the challenge of high school academics, how to advocate for what you need, and how to largely do it alone without your brother and sister at your side-you have been nothing short of remarkable. An incredible force to be reckoned with.

As you belt Beastie Boys--your latest vinyl Aunt Lisa gave you--from your bedroom, I see that you are your own best you.  

You have a strong voice and you're not afraid to let the world know your perspective-particularly if you feel like there's an injustice or something/someone that needs to be reckoned with. You are powerful and stubborn and sometimes, we butt the heck out of our heads.  But the really amazing thing I've learned from you is the importance of a really good, "I'm sorry and I love you." You are quick to hug and there are no limits to your loyalty.

So, as you embark upon this new year, getting your learner's permit and taking driver's ed--while I'd love for you to slow down and let me catch my breath, I know that's not your speed.  So, let me promise you that I'm along for the ride--all of the crazy, the beautiful, the unknown, the hard, the Johnny Cash, the fantasy books, the acrylic nails, the skincare, the rockstar bangs, the treatise on teacher satisfaction, and the ways that we should all stand up to protect the underdog.

You, my Claire Bear have the world by the tail and it's such a gift to be on the journey with you.  

With wild abandon, keep being the boundless you and we'll keep loving you.

Love you so, so much,

Mom