One of the greatest blessings I received when I left my corporate career in 2005, was KNOWING that I had made in difference in the lives of many people.

I don’t say that to stroke my ego. Time and time again, I would hear it, but my last day in the office, I KNEW it.

I realized then that many people live their lives not ever really knowing deep down whether or not their lives had meaning or actually MATTERED.

Trust me…your life has meaning.

YOU matter. YOU have made a difference. Probably in ways you don’t even realize.

This weekend, I spent hours feeling sorry for myself. I was visiting my hubby who works out of town and only comes home on the weekend. This weekend, however, he was on mandatory overtime, working 15 1/2 hours on Saturday and another 12 today. I was sad because this was not the “dream” I had for my life at 44. I was sad because I have few friends, sad because so many people I have loved did not feel the same, sad because I believe I have so little to show for the time I have spent on this planet.

Pathetic, I know. But honest.

And then I opened my email to a blog comment that left me stunned. SOMEONE had actually missed my writing. Huh?? My little private blog, the blog I put up for my own healing, was being read and appreciated and now missed.

I was stunned.

I have heard from many people that something about the way I write feels good to them. I’m flattered, but frankly, I don’t really believe them. (How rude of me to call them a liar, huh?) I write to keep from losing my mind. I write because when I don’t, I feel like I may actually explode.

It floors me that it could provide value to someone else. (And thank you Cynthia, for your loving gesture.)

I had forgotten this one gem: When you SHOW up, miracles happen for yourself and others.

So, I am back. And I will keep writing.

Because, writing soothes my soul and helps me reconnect to the part of me that only speaks truth.

That part that knows we are all connected.

That part of me that knows that in my healing, I contribute to the healing of others.

I will keep writing because YOU matter and I am grateful that you have touched my life.

Thank you.

With much love & gratitude,

Lisa

Yesterday was my birthday.  The outpouring of love was overwhelming and something I don’t take for granted.  Connection is really what my life’s work is about.  It’s the fuel that drives me.  I am grateful beyond words for the connections I’ve made in the last 43 years.

One connection that I have that I rarely celebrate is with one of my sisters.  We are adopted but biologically share the same father.  We were born 25 days apart in adjacent counties.  She was born to a married white woman who had several other children.  Me, to a 15 year old Mexican immigrant.  Dad clearly didn’t discriminate. 

No wonder I was a diversity professional.

Anyway, growing up, we were like “twins.”  But in our teenage years we took different paths and our lives couldn’t be any more different if we’d been born on different planets.

Friday, April 5, my 43 year old sister had a heart attack.

She is still in ICU, fighting for her life.  The prospect of losing her doesn’t make me sad.  I have said all I needed to say, long ago.  But for her, I want to share a funny story, that I hope energetically, will bring her some laughter and peace.

One day when I was about 3 or 4, , I asked my sister to come out to the garage with me and look in Daddy’s refrigerator.  He kept worms in there, so I was always afraid they’d jump out at me or something. She wasn’t afraid of worms, so having back-up was cool.

We found some ”grape juice” in there and sat down with these itty bitty glasses to drink some.  We didn’t want Daddy to know we’d been in there and we really just wanted a sip.

I don’t remember much after that until Mom came out.  She was ticked.  I was laughing my ass off and my sister was crying.  Mom demanded to know what we were doing, ’cause apparently, she’d been calling us for awhile. 

My sister, still crying, say’s, “Lisa made me have ‘munnion.”  

Yep, we had our own communion, but what we thought was grape juice was actually homemade wine!

We were stupid drunk, but all Mom could do was clean us up and put us to bed until we slept it off.    

As you can imagine, communion was never the same.

Every time we told that story, my sister would just laugh and laugh.  I hope she’s laughing now.

Leah, no matter what you decide, whether you choose to stay or join up with Mom and Dad, I love you.  And ‘munnion will be waiting for you, either way.

I encourage you to take a minute today and share a laugh with someone you love.  And say a prayer for my sister.  Thanks.

Love, Lisa