Lessons learned in the face of a Hurricane

If you live in an area that could be hit by a hurricane, then you know warnings of the threat of a potential hurricane begin as early as five or six days prior to its making landfall.  Staying tuned to the weather channel, the uncertainty of where the hurricane will hit, and the chaotic behavior of those around you as water and gas become scarce can leave you feeling anxious and scared. 

You find yourself constantly agonizing: Is the hurricane coming this way or not? Do I leave town or do I stay? How much water and food will I need? What kind of food do I buy? Is my house safe? What will I lose? What are my loved ones going to do? 

What’s worse is that oftentimes we are forced to make decisions before knowing whether the hurricane is going to hit us or not — because if we wait — the hotels, flights, gas stations, and supermarkets will be sold out or empty. 

But despite the chaos, the fear, and the constant distractions, these uncertain times have a way of teaching us lessons.

Here are a few of the lessons I’ve learned over the years in the face of hurricanes:


We don’t have control over how things are going to turn out. The only thing we can control is the decisions we make with the information we’ve been given. When we are faced with choices and options that can lead us down different paths, the uncertainty can cause more pain than the path. Weigh your options, make a calculated decision, take action, and have faith that things will work out. Trust in yourself. 


The only real fear in life is the loss of it. Other fears are often fabricated or exaggerated in our minds. But when one is in a life-threatening situation, things that seemed overwhelming in the past become trivial. If we could somehow bottle that wisdom up and open it in times of stress, we would eliminate most of the unnecessary fear we place on ourselves.


Material things don’t matter — time does. The time we have is our most prized possession and sometimes it takes the Universe to force us to STOP the grind and just be present in the moment. Even if that moment is a bad one, it pulls us together and brings out the best in us. These moments create the space to value the time we spend with our family and the importance of enjoying life while we can.


Community matters. Surround yourself with the people you love. Help each other. Stick together. Laugh and love each other. Nothing matters more than that.


When faced with disasters in our lives or the threat of them, the one gift we can always take advantage of us is perspective. In these moments we are forced to decide what we’re made of and what we truly value. A couple of years ago, when Hurricane Irma was heading straight toward us, I had a liberating realization. I’d been agonizing for years over what to do with some of my late father’s material possessions until they were all at risk of being lost in that hurricane. Suddenly, I didn’t care at all if I lost all those things. All I cared about was my family’s safety. I realized that those “things” weren’t my dad, they were just things. I understood that everything I need to hold on to I carry with me, in my heart and mind — no hurricane can take that away from me. Long after the hurricane was over, that perspective stayed with me and allowed me to get rid of the clutter I couldn’t get rid of before. 

A Moment of Clarity

If you are facing a hurricane in your life, remember that no matter how much destruction, pain, or chaos it’s causing — you can always find the lessons. It is in those lessons you’ll find that you are stronger, wiser, and more resilient than you ever thought you could be. 

Finding the Good in Grief

Four years ago, I kissed my father’s cheek, hugged what remained of him, held his hands for the last time, and walked out of his hospital room. I reached the parking lot, got into my same car, took the same route home, walked into the same house to see the same husband and the same kids. Everything in my life was the same, yet everything was completely different.

My world as I knew it had changed.

It was the end of my dad’s life. The end of his battle with cancer.

But it was also the end of his career. 

The end of our long and meaningful conversations.

The end of him attending birthday parties or family functions.

The end of surprise visits and impromptu dinner dates.

It was the end of so much. 

Death highlights the ends, causing sharp pain which cuts through your heart. 

Although I’d suffered this profound loss, I found myself comparing my situation to others.

I had friends who’d lost their parents much earlier in life. Their parents had not been around to walk them down the aisle or see their grandchildren be born.

I had friends who’d lost their child. That is out of order in the cycle of life. Our parents are supposed to die before us, not the other way around.  

I had friends who’d lost their spouses, young and old. They’d had to rebuild their lives without their other half.

Things could be worse, I thought. How dare I be sad?

And then there was something else. I wanted to believe that my father’s presence would remain with me even after his death. I had to believe we were still connected— that he was still here with me.

But if he hadn’t left, then how could I miss him?

I suppressed any feelings of mourning, thinking I didn’t have the right to have them.

At the time, a friend of mine sent me a podcast interview on grief.  It took me a while to hear it, thinking it would be too heavy and unnecessary. But eventually I did press play. That podcast did something for me that I will be eternally grateful for: It gave me the gift of grief.

The guest said something that stayed with me. Something I’d never heard before. “Pain is inevitable, Suffering is optional.”

What I was really trying to do was avoid suffering.  I refused to become a victim of my loss. My father had taught me to focus on the positive, to use humor in all circumstances, and to be strong. I thought by grieving his death, I’d be letting him down. But that podcast showed me that I was merging pain with suffering and I didn’t have to.

That changed everything. Suddenly it didn’t matter if my loss was more or less tragic than anyone else’s. It didn’t need to be compared. It was my loss and it sucked.

And then the guest said something else. “It’s not about the grief, it’s about the change.”

It’s not that he’s not with me…it’s that he’s with me in a different way.

My relationship with my father had changed. A relationship that had helped mold me and define me. A relationship I had counted on and depended on for the last 35 years.

I no longer had a relationship with my father— the person.  I was beginning a relationship with my father— the soul.

I could see my dad in my mind or in videos. I could sniff his cologne and smell him. I could hear his voice. I could remember him.  But I could no longer touch him. I could not kiss his cheek, hug him or hold his hand. I had lost one of the most important senses we humans have, the sense of touch. We are allowed to feel the pain of that loss.

The most beautiful realization I made, however, was not while I was listening to the podcast. It came later.

Despite giving myself permission to grieve, I was still the same person as before.

I was still positive.

I still used humor.

I was still strong.

I often think of my dad, cry, and minutes later find myself laughing at something adorable my child did. I can miss him and feel his presence simultaneously.

I can grieve with grace.

I have also come to appreciate the cycle between ends and beginnings. The end of one thing is always the beginning of something else.

A newly wed welcomes a life of companionship and romantic dinners yet misses the simplicity of being single.  A new mother thanks God for her beautiful, bouncy, baby girl and yet mourns the time when she was only responsible for herself. As parents gloat with pride that their bright and independent son is off to college, they mourn the little boy who creeped into their beds in the middle of the night. Even happy beginnings come with sad ends.

Although I reached the end of my earthly relationship with my father, it was the beginning of a new relationship. One in which I carry him with me everywhere I go.

The gift of grief has allowed me to live fully in the present moment. I can be happy or sad without feeling guilty about it.

 I used to have a mantra whenever I felt a twinge of pain. It went like this:  “I am strong. I do not feel sorry for myself. I am not a victim. I am blessed. I have a good attitude.” 

I continue to reiterate the same mantra, but I’ve added this sentence: “I am human and I feel sad… That’s ok too.”

A Moment of Clarity

If we deny ourselves the joy of the beginning or the pain of the end, we are denying ourselves the act of fully living.



Have Your Reasons Become Excuses?

I used to love sitting in the audience watching my father deliver a speech. He could tell a story I’d heard a hundred times and I’d laugh, cry, or be inspired as if it was the first time I’d heard it. But watching him wasn’t the only reason I loved being in that room. 

I loved the content. I loved the audience. I loved the business.

Speaking was always something I wanted to do. 

Instead, I became a lawyer. Strange isn’t it —to grow up in a world that you love and consciously decide to do something else. 

There were two big reasons for this:

1. I wanted to have a family. My dad was an awesome dad but didn’t have much success in marriage. I believed if I wanted marriage & kids to be a priority, this wasn’t the business for me. I also had gender bias, thinking it was okay for my dad to travel all the time but assuming it wasn’t okay for me because I was a woman. 

2. I didn’t have enough experience as a business person. I didn’t want to tell people how to do things I hadn’t done myself. I didn’t want to be a phony.

In the last 20 years I’ve learned from the best, worked for others, worked for myself, run successful businesses, and accomplished personal goals. I’ve been a wife, a friend, a daughter, a family member, and I’ve had the privilege to mother three boys.

I thought I’d chosen my life path.

I had no regrets about that.

But paths evolve. We are constantly entering new phases.

What came before trains us for what’s yet to come. 

When my dad died, I realized the days of me sitting in the audience watching him speak were over. Without knowing it, I’d been training for this my entire life. If I ever wanted to see my dad on stage again, or stay involved in that world I adored, it was time for me to step on to the stage.

The two reasons I didn’t speak before weren’t reasons anymore, they had become excuses.

Because I’ve reached a point where my family is strong enough to support my work whether I have to travel or not. And as for experience in life and business? I have plenty.

It is my time to share. 

Sometimes we want things that we’re not ready for but we forget that life is long. There are seasons in our lives where we have reasons not to do something we want to do. That’s okay. Timing is important. But be vigilant as your life path evolves. When you realize your reasons have become excuses, you’ll know your time has come to do that thing that’s been gnawing at you all along. You’ll be ready.

A Moment of Clarity

You are always in training for something bigger, even if that something comes 20 years from now.


Turning Tragedy into Legacy

I recently attended a meeting where guests deliver a thirty-second commercial about what they do. I shared with the audience that after twelve years of practicing law, I’ve dedicated myself to keynote speaking and writing to fulfill my purpose of carrying my father’s legacy. 

 An older man stood up when it was his turn and said “My name is Mario and I, too, am carrying a legacy.” He then spoke about his roofing company. 

At the end of the meeting, I walked passed the main entrance of the meeting room and bumped into Mario. 

“So you’re carrying a legacy, too?” I asked 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is it your dad’s legacy?” I figured maybe his dad or grandpa previously owned his roofing company. 

“No ma’am. I’m carrying my son’s legacy.”

My smile faded. “What happened?”

At twenty-six, Mario’s son died when a drunk driver crashed into him. He left behind a roofing company he’d proudly created on his own. Because Mario’s son loved being a roofer, Mario decided to do whatever it took to keep that business alive. For a while he tried juggling his own company and his son’s, but soon realized he couldn’t continue doing both. Mario shut down his existing company to focus on growing the company his son had poured his heart into.  He became a roofer and now manages the business with pride, knowing he is doing it in his son’s memory.

Mario touched my soul. He serves as an example for all of us that regardless of the pain we endure, we always have a choice. We have the choice to get lost in our suffering, or put our pain to work somehow. We have the choice to forget the ones we lost, or to honor their memory and keep their spirit alive. We have the choice to stop functioning, or to carry on with purpose, love, and resilience.

A Moment of Clarity

Mario’s son died too soon, but his dad made it his business to carry his legacy. Now that is purpose-driven work!

Mario found a way for his son to be there even when he’s not.

Cycles In Our Health Journey

Eight years ago, my father and I explored alternative medicines and treatments hoping to find a cure for his cancer. One day while visiting an integrative medicine doctor, I received advice that would change my life and my family’s life. 

“Stop eating sugar,” the doctor said when I asked him what I could do to avoid getting cancer. Up until that moment I had the worst eating habits you could imagine. I ate junk food regularly, loved Burger King and Taco Bell, and practically overdosed on chocolate chip cookies. 

But I took those three words seriously and immediately changed my diet drastically. Avoiding sugar became an obsession. Friends and family urged me to relax, worried I was becoming too skinny and strict with my children. But I was on a mission. Subconsciously, I was trying to exert control over the uncontrollable — my father’s terminal disease. No matter what we tried, his cancer progressed. Unable to change that, I focused only on the things that were within my control—what I ate and what my two-year-old and seven-month-old boys ate. It was like I was trying to fight the cancer for my dad.

I don’t regret being extreme during that time. My relentless commitment turned a phase into a lifestyle. It pushed me to educate myself and learn more about food and wellness; it inspired me to start my first blog, pileonthegreens, to share our journey with others; and it helped me pass on the importance of healthy eating to my kids. My example even influenced my husband who then lost 45 lbs.

Extreme focus and commitment leads to results. 

But after my dad’s death, the tigress in me quieted down. His fight was over. At the same time my children were growing up and my rigidness was no longer appropriate. I decided to be more lenient and flexible about the choices they made. I also made a lot more concessions with myself. 

As life got busier with after-school and weekend activities, our lifestyle became more on-the-go. We’re out more and I’ve been planning less, meaning we have less healthy options more often. I’ve lost my discipline. However, because I worked so hard for the last eight years to instill healthy habits into our lives, our diet is still better today than before we started. 

Why am I telling you this? Because we all have cycles and transitions in every aspect of our lives. We can focus on certain goals intently, and then taper down. As our lives change, it’s normal for us to adjust our priorities and our lifestyle. The key is to continue adopting healthy habits that stick with us, even when we’re not on our A game. For example, I’ve never returned to fast food, sodas, or microwaveable meals even though now I eat a lot more carbs and desserts. It makes getting back on track easier. 


My husband and I had been feeling like we needed a reset. For him, it was a jumpstart to motivate him back into the gym and lose some pounds he put on. For me, it was more about mindset and cleaning up my eating habits.  One of my running buddies told me about mimic fasting and it caught my attention. Last week we did it! I did a five-day mimic fast and my husband did a three-day water fast. Although the process is painful (Orlando’s was way worse than mine), I found it was a wonderful way to get us back into a healthy state of mind. We ended the fast feeling empowered, excited, and full of energy.

As for me, with this reset I realized I’ve entered a new stage of life. I’m no longer the person who is oblivious to food and how it affects my body and mind. I’m no longer the daughter who is coping with her dad’s illness or grieving his loss. And I’m no longer the mother of infants who is trying to get it right. 

I am now a woman who understands food and enjoys nutrition, exercise and feeling great. I’m a person who is aware of genetic diseases and will do what I can to avoid them. And I am a mom who wants to lead by example and guide my kids as they navigate their own health journey.  It’s a good place to be and I’m grateful for the journey. 

As for you, it’s important to know what stage of life you’re in. You might need an extreme lifestyle change to lose weight, reclaim your health, or adopt habits that stick. You might need a simple reset to kick you back in gear. Or you might need to leave things status quo because you need to focus on other priorities right now. 

Moment of Clarity

Wherever you are today, know this: It’s temporary.  Have patience with yourself and do the best you can. A new season will come. But remember, you always have the power to start a new cycle in your health journey.

Are You Wasting Your Time?

Checking off items from your to-do checklist can feel rewarding and satisfying, especially on those days where you can knock out several items at once. At least for me, I regularly create a long list of all the things I have pending. I get a sick pleasure of crossing each item off the list to mark its completion. It makes me feel “productive.” For years I tried writing a book by adding “write” as a task on that laundry list of miscellaneous things I had to do. But I rarely got to it, and when I did, I wouldn’t have enough time to get my writing-brain working. There was always too much to do. 

When I realized this would never work, I separated a few hours one day a week to focus only on my writing. That helped a lot. But I knew that if I wanted to finish my book, I needed more than one writing day. I rearranged my schedule to block out large chunks of time almost every day to write and leaving only one admin day a week to get everything else done. 

That was an anxiety-provoking process. I confess I’ve never felt so unproductive as I did at the end of some of my writing days. After sitting in front of my computer for hours I could have written one page or one paragraph or struggled with one sentence the whole time. By the end of the day, I usually felt no closer to finishing my book than I did when I started. That was frustrating. The weeks turned into months, and friends and family would ask “When are you going to finish your book?”

 “I’m working on it!” I’d respond.

“But what’s your deadline?” they’d ask. 

“I’m not sure,” I’d reply half-heartedly wondering if I’d ever finish or if I was doing any of this correctly.  

I spent a year working on my book, not knowing how much longer it would take, if it would be any good, or if anyone would want to read it. Some days it felt like I was wasting my time. But I kept plugging at it week after week, settling for only getting my task-crossing dopamine rush on Tuesdays.

And then the other day I watched the documentary, The Dawn Wall. It shares the story of Tommy Caldwell’s journey to becoming the best mountain climber in the world. At some point Tommy decided he wanted to do something that had never been done before—to climb the Dawn Wall on the El Capitan mountain. It was one specific section of the mountain that seemed impossible because of all its blank spaces. There didn’t seem to be anything that a climber could grip their hands and feet onto for the climb.  But Tommy wanted to find a way. He spent a year hanging off the side of El Cap attempting to identify enough cracks and crimps to delineate a route up the wall.

Let me repeat that: Tommy spent a year hanging off the side of El Cap attempting to identify enough cracks and crimps to delineate a route up the wall. Can you imagine spending an entire year hanging off the side of a wall with a rope, just looking and touching the surfaces of the rock? I know I can’t. Eventually Tommy created a route he thought might be possible. Kevin Jorgensen joined Tommy’s passion project, and they spent the next six years attempting that route. Six more years! 

Kevin admitted that he could never tell if they were wasting their time or doing something grand. He lived with that uncertainty for six years, but kept going back to that mountain hoping to accomplish their goal.  During those years with thousands of failed attempts, the only indicator of their progress was that they were still there to see another day. When they weren’t on the wall, they were back at home training for the climb. 

In 2015, Tommy and Kevin were the first people ever to free climb the Dawn Wall, making history and an incredible story for a documentary. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a must watch (https://www.netflix.com/title/81004270)

Their story inspired me to continue doing the work that matters to me, regardless of how long I take to accomplish my goals. 

Lyn Manuel Miranda is another example of someone whose work took years to complete. Lyn Manuel spent a year writing one song in Hamilton. One year for one song. It then took him five more years to write the play. I wonder if he could tell whether he was wasting his time or doing something grand. Regardless, he kept at it. He took his time and trusted the process. He continued doing the work that mattered to him. And he came up with Hamilton, one of the most brilliant Broadway musicals of all time.

These are just two examples of people who focused on one thing. They committed years of their life on their work despite no guarantees of greatness. Yet in both cases what they produced was extraordinary. 

It got me thinking of being “productive.” We live in a fast-paced busy society, juggling a thousand responsibilities and commitments. Over time, it’s easy to develop that habit of always being on the go. And we buy into this notion that the more we do, the more productive we are. But we fail to recognize that some projects have their process. They take time and require patience. They need room for error and correction. The only way to complete these projects is if we’re willing to delay gratification; even during those moments when we can’t tell if we’re wasting our time!

A Moment of Clarity

Even if you don’t feel like you are being productive today, you could be we producing something great for tomorrow. Keep working on your greatness!

Pick Your Pitch

My eight-year-old Justin, plays in a baseball league. He has a practically perfect, beautiful swing—a swing that when executed properly could rip a home run. And yet he often fails to make contact with the ball. It used to be because he wasn’t keeping his eye on the ball. Eventually he realized that he couldn’t swing and pray that the ball the pitcher threw would magically meet the barrel of his bat. He had to focus on where the ball was and adjust upward or downward. He was the one responsible for making contact and increasing his chances to get on base. 

Then something interesting happened. He’d swing at everything, no matter where it went. The problem with that is that some pitches are bad pitches. 

One evening after a game, Justin walked toward the car with his head down because he’d struck out. His dad patted his son’s head. “You have to pick your pitch, son.”  

He explained that part of the process of keeping your eye on the ball is knowing when to adjust and when not to swing. “I know you’re excited to make contact with the ball. But if it’s a bad pitch, you waste a swing and increase your chances of striking out when you could have waited for a better pitch.” 

At the very next game, Justin hit two doubles and a triple. He’d applied the lessons his father had taught him and was reaping the results. Unfortunately, our six-year-old did not have the same luck. He is on the same team as his brother. He stepped up to the plate and when the ball came flying toward him, he held his swing. At the next pitch, he swung and missed. Strike. Then he held his swing again. After a few pitches, the coach told him, “Ryan, this is your fifth swing. You HAVE to swing, no matter what.” Ryan swung and fowled off, but he didn’t understand that he’d met his pitch count according to the rules of the league and could no longer wait for a good pitch. On the next throw, he held his swing and was called “Out!”

He cried his way to the dugout. “I did what dad told me to do.” He said, tears streaming down his eyes. Although he was following the right principle, he didn’t understand that the principle has its limits. There are only so many times you can wait for the right pitch before you have to swing even if its not the perfect pitch. 

That fine line is just as difficult to master in our businesses as it is in baseball. 

Sometimes we think our product, offering, or service is so good we can sit and wait for the customers to find us. But customers and clients don’t magically appear on our doorstep. Having a good product or service isn’t enough.  Being good at what we do isn’t enough. We have to adjust our sales pitches and our marketing efforts to speak the same language as our potential customers. We have to focus on their wants, needs and struggles instead of thinking our work or talent speaks for itself. That’s how we keep our eye on the ball in business. It requires a deep understanding of our business, our clients, and the outcomes we’re looking for. 

As for picking our pitches, we are often so hungry that we say “yes” to every business opportunity and every client we come in contact with, even if they’re not a good fit. We eat the marshmallow. (If you don’t know what that means, click here).  We overlook that we are not engaging with the ideal customers or that our clients are underpaying for our services because we desperately want the sale. This can create a vicious cycle in our businesses where we’re working too much for too little. A dangerous business model that ultimately results in unhappy customers and frustrated business owners. What’s worse is that if you kept your eye on the ball and were patient, the right pitch could increase your chances of hitting a home run. But there are moments when we have to swing. When the bills are due, or we have to prove ourselves, or we need exposure, sometimes we have to go for it even if it’s not the perfect opportunity. 

Like most things, the answer is in the middle. Keeping our eye on the ball and knowing when to hit versus when to hold is an art, not a science.  You will strike out from time to time. You will swing when you shouldn’t and you will hold when you could’ve swung. And sometimes you’ll lose sight of the ball. But no matter how often you strike out, the only way you’ll improve is if you keep showing up to the game and stepping up to the plate. The more you do, the better you’ll get at picking your pitch. 

A Moment of Clarity

When thinking about your business, always keep these two simple rules from baseball in mind:

Keep your eye on the ball. 

Pick your pitch. 

What if you could…

Have you ever had a big dream or idea? One that lights you up inside when you think about it. You might get carried away while all the possibilities fluttering in your mind get bigger and bigger. But then you come back to reality and remember the bills you have to pay, the kids you have to raise, and the deadlines you have to meet. And then of course, the quickest way to reign in those fantasies is with the very real notion that you could fail.  Before you know it you’ve tucked those wild thoughts neatly into the if only I could compartment of your brain.

Last week I took my kids to the circus. No, not the big giant Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus (that one closed down). I’m talking about a small circus in a round, pop-up tent on an open field in the middle of our local Kendall Town and Country mall. We know this area for its movie theater, restaurants and shops, but hearing of a traveling circus appearing in the middle of it seemed random. And yet there it was.

A little circus that had big dreams. 

At least that’s what Kevin Venardos, the ringmaster and creator of that American circus, said in his opening act. He spoke to the kids in the audience and encouraged them to follow their dreams, even if they are mocked or bullied, and even when it seems impossible. Venardos showed us how he dreamed of owning a circus and willed it into existence.  

Talented performers, inspiring words, great music, and a sense of joy and happiness made for a spectacular Sunday outing with our family. I was most impressed by learning that the performers who wowed the audience were the same people who set up the tent, collected tickets at the front door, sold popcorn during intermission, and cleaned up when the show was over. Within their team of fifteen people, there was no such thing as “that’s not my job.”  Every one of those performers has to pitch in and wear different hats to bring this event to life. That’s the price they pay for doing what they love. And seeing how they do it with pride, joy, and determination is a lesson for all of us. 

This is a business that started from the ground up with just an idea and a team that was willing to put in the time, energy, and work to make it happen. They believed in themselves before anyone else believed in them. They struggled, made mistakes, and overcame obstacles. Venardos started with one show in one year… and now is making appearances in over 40 states. Maybe that’s why he coined his circus “the little circus that could.”  Because Venardos and his team are willing to do what others may not be willing to do, they are succeeding, growing, and realizing their dreams.

So now I ask you: What if you could start that business or do that thing that makes your imagination sing? What if you could will your dreams into existence?

Would you? 

Would you be willing to believe in yourself before anyone else does?

Would you be willing to put in the sweat and tears?

Would you be willing to do what others are not willing to do? 

A Moment of Clarity

The next time an idea or dream rents space in your head, instead of thinking if only I could, think what do I have to do, to turn those dreams into reality. 

Successful people are willing to do things that unsuccessful people are not willing to do. – Joachim de Posada

Before you delete another email, Read This!

Email inboxes have become another annoying source of clutter in our lives, requiring management and strategic planning to tackle them. Although removing the noise from our inboxes stops the mental overwhelm, I’ve discovered there are some emails you should never DELETE.

I recently attended the funeral of a ninety-four-year-old woman. I didn’t know her personally but she was my friend, David Altshuler’s mother. David’s son, Ellery, was the first speaker to deliver the eulogy. He seemed like a nice, educated and articulate young man.  

I thought it was quirky that Ellery referred to his grandmother by her actual name, Thelma. People don’t normally call their grandmothers by their first name. But after a few sentences escaped his lips, I knew there was nothing ordinary about this grandmother.

I quickly discovered that Thelma was an excellent writer with high standards and that she was always available to help Ellery with his school papers. She was a highly educated and successful woman. I expected to hear all about her accolades and accomplishments, which I gathered were significant.

But Ellery’s speech went in a different direction.

He took us all on a journey of Thelma’s life by reading emails she wrote to him dating back to 2004. Every email on its own might have seemed unremarkable and insignificant, but coupled with Ellery’s commentary and the context he provided, each one brought the audience closer to his grandmother. This was Ellery’s way of showing us who Thelma really was.

Ellery mentioned how he and Thelma enjoyed literary realism. He referenced a few books and noted how those authors reminded you of the profundity found in everyday life. He did an outstanding job at displaying the depth of his relationship with his grandmother by allowing us to peek into their ordinary, yet hilarious, string of email exchanges.  

Instead of hearing about her awards and recognition, we learned about her constant battle with her printer and its toner, her obsession with compression socks and free parking, and her keen ability to complete the New York Times crossword puzzles.

Suddenly I felt so connected to this woman I didn’t know.  Her brilliance, her zest for life, and her love of literature, music, art, and humanity mesmerized me. Her independence and character inspired me. And the special relationship she formed with a boy sixty-nine years younger than her left me in awe.  She was more than his grandmother; she was his best friend.

By the time Ellery finished reading their email exchanges, Thelma had become my friend, too. She was exactly the kind of old lady I aspire to be.

At the end of Ellery’s speech, he spoke about how much he would miss Thelma. His head dropped a little lower and his shoulders slumped a little more. “I had Thelma in my life for my first twenty-five years, but I’ll live the rest of my life without her.”

He’s wrong about that.

Connections like the one Ellery and Thelma had are not lost or broken by death or distance. She influenced his life in a way that will manifest itself in every aspect of Ellery’s life until he dies. Plus, Ellery has something precious; He has the gift of his grandma’s written words.

Thelma’s emails were just like the postcards my dad sent me. She established a form of communication with her grandson and then communicated with him consistently. Through her emails, she stayed present in Ellery’s life no matter where he lived or what stage of life he was in. Some of my favorite emails involved questions Thelma asked Ellery regarding sports.

“She asked me about sports even though she didn’t care about them,” Ellery noted, “just to meet me where I was at.”  

Unknowingly, Thelma took part in the postcard promise.  And because Ellery never deleted those emails, his inbox became a box of postcards.  Even though she is no longer physically present, Thelma will always be with Ellery even when she’s not.

I met Ellery after the service and told him how moved I was by his eulogy. I also shared with him my personal experience with my dad’s postcards and how even now, three years after he passed, I can pick a postcard from the bunch and his words are still relevant and meaningful.

“Thank you so much for telling me that,” he said. “I didn’t delete my grandmother’s emails out of laziness and now it feels like a streak of genius. Even though I’m sad that she died, I feel so connected to her.”

I can’t emphasize it enough. Write to your loved ones! Whether it’s postcards, letters, emails, or post-it notes, written words are powerful, even when they appear insignificant at the moment.

That evening I returned home from the funeral and this is how the conversation with my husband went.

Orlando: How was the funeral?

Me: It was amazing! I am so inspired.

Orlando: You realize this is not how this conversation should go right?

Me: What do you mean?

Orlando: Caro, funerals aren’t amazing. They’re sad.  You’re insane.

Me: Well, you haven’t been to Thelma’s funeral!

A Moment of Clarity

The next time you’re sorting through your inbox and removing all the clutter, make sure you stop before deleting emails from the people you love. Create a folder for them; Archive them; But don’t delete them. It may seem like you’re being lazy now…but one day it might just be a streak of genius.

One Thing You Have to do to be Successful

I took my middle son, Justin, to a chess tournament recently. We sat in the waiting room until they posted the pairings on the wall. When we looked up his name, instead of showing an opponent, the line read: Justin Rodriguez – see Director. 

We rushed over to the Director’s table and asked what was wrong. 

“Oh, Justin gets an automatic win for this round,” she said with a smile. 

“Why?” Justin asked. 

“Because we have an odd number of players and you were the oddball in the pairing. There is another child registered to play, but he hasn’t arrived yet, so you get the point. You got lucky, buddy. Now sit tight until the next round.”

As we walked back to the waiting room, Justin’s shoulders slumped and his eyes looked at the floor. 

“What’s wrong, Justy?” I raised his chin to look into his eyes. 

“That’s not a real win, mom.” he pouted. “I want to play. I want to earn my point, not just get one for no reason.”

There is no better feeling than that of real accomplishment- being able to connect your reward to your hard work. 

The same goes for the public. No one wants to hear a story of victory because the main character got lucky. We want conflict and transformation; a hero’s journey. Otherwise, it’s not as attractive. 

Have you ever been talking about someone who landed a big client, whose social media post went viral, or who was discovered in some random way, and then the other person says,  “Well, she got lucky because…” 

It reduces merit the person may have had. 

And yet secretly, we all hope for a lucky break once in a while. A bit of luck could make life a lot easier. And even though we are quick to discredit someone for having it, a part of us whispers, “I wish that were me.”

I sat down next to my son, “You know why you got that win, Justin?” 

“No,” his eyes narrowed at me.

“Because you showed up.” 

He looked at me confused. 

“Half the battle is just showing up, son. Yes, luck was on your side in the pairings, but what’s important is that you came prepared, on time, and ready to play. The other kid didn‘t. That‘s how life works. Remember, you still have four games to play, so you still have a lot of work to do. Enjoy this small victory and use the extra time to prepare for the next game.”

This is an important lesson for all of us. 

I attended a Mary Kay party once and the woman hosting it talked to her guests about the business, the products, and the lifestyle. One attendee commented to the saleswoman, “I’ve known many people who have gotten into the multi-level marketing world, and most of them have failed. Why do you think this happens?” 

“Most of them stop showing up,” she said. “This line of work takes time, effort, and persistence and most people don’t feel like showing up over and over again.” 

The same goes for writers, athletes, entrepreneurs, and anyone else.  Be consistent with your efforts. Stay in the game.  Show up over and over and over again. That may mean having the discipline to write, train, work, or network even when you don‘t feel like it. Or it may mean putting your work out into the world even when you’re afraid of failure. 

If the Universe happens to throw you a bone, enjoy it. It doesn’t make your success any less meaningful. After all, by showing up you put yourself in a position for luck to find you. 

A Moment of Clarity

The one thing you have to do to be successful in life and business is to keep showing up. 

Show up so much that luck knows where to find you.