Today, I chose to listen to your essay. Very poignant. Beautiful.
This line struck me: "That’s when I noticed that death lives inside us all, and it calls when it chooses to."
Followed up by: "And, if we are fortunate, we will do the same again tomorrow."
While we have some influence on our health and well-being, we truly don't have much choice when death chooses to reach out to us. We are so fortunate to rise again each day and live. I continue to learn from both you and Sarah. I continue to integrate personal learnings when I see you put them into practice.
This was a beautiful essay. One I'm so glad to have read today.
Thanks, Alex. I feel privileged to call you friend. Which sounds weird, since we haven't met in person. Yet your comments, from the beginning, have been so thoughtful and carefully constructed. I end up feeling bolstered by them, and believe me, I need that. I think we all do.
So, we carry each other and each other's burdens through our words. And spirit.
Now I'm thinking of a Neil Diamond song called, "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother." ❤️❤️
I think we all do too. I feel privileged to call you friend, and to be your friend. I feel bolstered and supported each time we interact. And that is SUCH a relief. And so energizing. 🩵
I welled up over and over again reading this essay. It is so easy to forget about our proximity to death, each of us, though some are closer to it than others. To love a child who is in the latter group is the hardest,bravest, most beautiful thing. To find the words to convey that, right in the midst of the rawness, is something else altogether. I am deeply grateful for the generosity of your storytelling, and the thin space it creates between us. Thank you, Jeannie. 💙
What a treat to wake up and see your name here with an incredibly thoughtful and kind comment about my story. Knowing a bit about you and your own journey makes me feel honored to receive your affirmation today. I can't tell you how much I value your presence here and what you have contributed, both in the comments and to me personally. Thank you so much.
My pleasure, Jeannie! I genuinely love reading your words and your insights- you have such a gift, and you just radiate the kind of humanity that makes me have faith in this whole thing we're doing here (and I think we need that now more than ever). xoxo
Wow, Kendall, thank you! I only wish I could find a literary agent who feels the same way you do about my writing.
I agree with you—it is heartening to find others who have faith in the goodness of people and who draw it out. It is good, too, to be among them, to remember that we all belong to the human family and thus to each other.
I cherish your presence here. Keep doing your worthy work. I am standing with you, hand in hand.
Yes, a lot of this feels like that mid-life muck. It’s so hard. I feel like everything is so foreign anymore, you know? My body, my values, my desires, my dreams and aspirations. Sometimes the whole world seems upside down.
What do you propose as a mid-life shift @Kendall Lamb ? I’m open!
Jeannie, this is such a poignant, heartbreaking and beautifully narrated piece of writing. As I read this essay, I felt the emotions in my heart and I teared up. I also found it informative, as you discussed various procedures that these children must go through.
Prayers that you and each member of your family stay healthy.
Beth, I always value what you share. You take the time to craft such thoughtful comments, and I always feel supported by your words. Truly, I cannot tell you how much I need that right now. Grateful for you.
Thank you for sharing this with us. While it is a completely different situation, I could relate to the importance of supporting someone who's in a world like our own. For me, it was losing a spouse. About a year after I had lost my husband, a family friend lost hers. As I hugged her at his funeral, she sobbed to me, "We'll need to talk." And we did, multiple times. I know it helped her, even as it gut-punched me each time. The facilitator at the grief support group I had attended had said, "You will find yourself in someone else's path." I have been, more than that one time. Just as you graciously were there for Marion and Julie. I know that meant the world to them. And you sharing this serves as a gentle reminder of the importance of community and kindness. And of cherishing every day. ❤
Wow, Nancy, that's a powerful insight: "You will find yourself in someone else's path." That struck me, because I think the best books and articles and essays do this automatically--connect us with someone else's story. We find ourselves in them. We recognize our own journey and pathway somehow in what we read. I'm so glad you shared this, and I'm sorry you lost your husband to death. What a gift to have a friend with whom you could share your walk through grief. I appreciate you being here!
You are a remarkable person, Jeannie. I imagine you and your family are walking a tightrope of emotions on any given day. And still you open up your heart to so many. We see it here on Substack and those lucky enough to cross your path experience it in person. Thank you for lifting up my spirits today.
Dawn, what a kind thing to say. I actually feel the same about you - that you are remarkable for all you have gone through. Maybe that's why we're all here together, because we recognize that attribute in each other. ❤️❤️
I have a friend who reminds people of something said by Winnie the Pooh: life is just so daily. You live that every moment, as did Marion and Jolene. There is not enough compassion in my heart to ease that, though I so wish there were.
Wow, the way that connection was made; stranger to stranger to stranger. it just goes to show how powerfully we are all connected, doesn't it? We're going to travel those pathways whatever it takes.
I read somewhere Jeannie, that if you can understand a person that is a wonderful gift, whether or not you can actually do anything else for them. That is so true, to feel truly understood is such a comfort beyond words. I'm sure the family must have felt that, thanks to you.
I think you're right--feeling understood means more than what can be purchased, more than any material gift. Just the gift of presence. I try to use this digital space to hold people where they are and help them feel seen, heard, and valued, and I try to do that in real life, too. What you wrote here touches my heart and helps fuel my resolve to keep writing. Thanks again, Suzanne.
That was such a powerful thing to read. I couldn't listen as would have been awash with tears. I'm so glad you and Ben could be there for the Amish family in their terrible anguish, but what an overwhelmingly sad reason for your two communities to come together. I just wish someone could have been there for you both when Sarah was born. 💔
That means a lot, Suzanne. It was really hard, but by the time I spoke with Marion, I was just grateful to be in a position to help someone else who was hurting like I did after Sarah was born.
I woke up at 12:30 AM after about two hours of mediocre sleep. I couldn’t decide to read or listen first, so I decided to let my cat decide for me. I got into my recliner, my back, hips and ribs aching, and decided if Daisy was the first one on my lap I’d read this first, then listen to your vocal. If Rodney was first then I’d listen first, then read. Daisy was first (it’s 1:11 and I’m still wondering where’s my boy Rodney) just moments after I tipped back, before my heating pad got warm. You have such energy, compassion and basic human decency. And you tell stories so well, as if your feelings are bypassing your brain cells and appearing straight from your heart onto the page. Thanks again for reaching out to check on my wife and me, and thanks for sharing so much of your spirit and your heart on this platform. Nitey-nite!
Wow, what an affirmation: "You have such energy, compassion and basic human decency. And you tell stories so well, as if your feelings are bypassing your brain cells and appearing straight from your heart onto the page." Thank you for that. I will tuck your words away and remember them when I begin to doubt my ability as a writer.
By the way, I was awake around 12:30 AM, too--remembered it was a full moon, tossed and turned a bit while my monkey mind went haywire, cried a bit, then fell back asleep. Solidarity, friend!
“Monkey mind.” That’s just choice description. Maybe it’s a syndrome or something, because I definitely have a case of it. Just between you and me, I think that could be costing me as much sleep as actual physical pain. I meant every word of my praise of your storytelling. I’m sure that it’s 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration. Your written output is so large and it reads so beautifully simple as you tackle difficult and complex material. A writer cannot fake honesty—either it’s there or it’s not. And you’re a very good narrator as well. Have you ever thought of getting an agent and taking a shot at narration or voice-over work?
You’re probably right about monkey mind. For me, it’s a bout of anxiety plus a hefty dose of perimenopausal hormones. :)
Again, your feedback is incredible—specific, kind, encouraging.
To answer your question, yes, I am actually in the midst of querying agents for my memoir, but so far I have only gotten rejections (6 weeks of querying 40+ agents is brutal). I’m not sure what to do with my manuscript, but I’m pressing on for now and will try to find an indie publisher if I can’t acquire an agent.
Your support means so much to me, especially hearing you say you think my writing quality is worth finding an agent!
Oh, Gosh Jeannie, I admire you so much. I am so moved by your essay, wisdom and love. I have more to say but i will when we talk. In the meanwhile, just thank you!
Today, I chose to listen to your essay. Very poignant. Beautiful.
This line struck me: "That’s when I noticed that death lives inside us all, and it calls when it chooses to."
Followed up by: "And, if we are fortunate, we will do the same again tomorrow."
While we have some influence on our health and well-being, we truly don't have much choice when death chooses to reach out to us. We are so fortunate to rise again each day and live. I continue to learn from both you and Sarah. I continue to integrate personal learnings when I see you put them into practice.
This was a beautiful essay. One I'm so glad to have read today.
Thanks, Alex. I feel privileged to call you friend. Which sounds weird, since we haven't met in person. Yet your comments, from the beginning, have been so thoughtful and carefully constructed. I end up feeling bolstered by them, and believe me, I need that. I think we all do.
So, we carry each other and each other's burdens through our words. And spirit.
Now I'm thinking of a Neil Diamond song called, "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother." ❤️❤️
Talk to you soon!
I think we all do too. I feel privileged to call you friend, and to be your friend. I feel bolstered and supported each time we interact. And that is SUCH a relief. And so energizing. 🩵
I feel the same. Looking forward to our conversation in a bit!
I welled up over and over again reading this essay. It is so easy to forget about our proximity to death, each of us, though some are closer to it than others. To love a child who is in the latter group is the hardest,bravest, most beautiful thing. To find the words to convey that, right in the midst of the rawness, is something else altogether. I am deeply grateful for the generosity of your storytelling, and the thin space it creates between us. Thank you, Jeannie. 💙
Hi Kendall,
What a treat to wake up and see your name here with an incredibly thoughtful and kind comment about my story. Knowing a bit about you and your own journey makes me feel honored to receive your affirmation today. I can't tell you how much I value your presence here and what you have contributed, both in the comments and to me personally. Thank you so much.
My pleasure, Jeannie! I genuinely love reading your words and your insights- you have such a gift, and you just radiate the kind of humanity that makes me have faith in this whole thing we're doing here (and I think we need that now more than ever). xoxo
Wow, Kendall, thank you! I only wish I could find a literary agent who feels the same way you do about my writing.
I agree with you—it is heartening to find others who have faith in the goodness of people and who draw it out. It is good, too, to be among them, to remember that we all belong to the human family and thus to each other.
I cherish your presence here. Keep doing your worthy work. I am standing with you, hand in hand.
Well, if I had the know-how, I would become a literary agent and scoop you right up. Maybe a mid-life shift is in order? ;)
Yes, a lot of this feels like that mid-life muck. It’s so hard. I feel like everything is so foreign anymore, you know? My body, my values, my desires, my dreams and aspirations. Sometimes the whole world seems upside down.
What do you propose as a mid-life shift @Kendall Lamb ? I’m open!
And thank you again for the kind affirmation. :)
Jeannie, this is such a poignant, heartbreaking and beautifully narrated piece of writing. As I read this essay, I felt the emotions in my heart and I teared up. I also found it informative, as you discussed various procedures that these children must go through.
Prayers that you and each member of your family stay healthy.
Beth, I always value what you share. You take the time to craft such thoughtful comments, and I always feel supported by your words. Truly, I cannot tell you how much I need that right now. Grateful for you.
So honestly and beautifully shared. My heart is full. Thank you. 💕💕
Thank you so much for your kind comment, Kharpern!
Thank you for sharing this with us. While it is a completely different situation, I could relate to the importance of supporting someone who's in a world like our own. For me, it was losing a spouse. About a year after I had lost my husband, a family friend lost hers. As I hugged her at his funeral, she sobbed to me, "We'll need to talk." And we did, multiple times. I know it helped her, even as it gut-punched me each time. The facilitator at the grief support group I had attended had said, "You will find yourself in someone else's path." I have been, more than that one time. Just as you graciously were there for Marion and Julie. I know that meant the world to them. And you sharing this serves as a gentle reminder of the importance of community and kindness. And of cherishing every day. ❤
Wow, Nancy, that's a powerful insight: "You will find yourself in someone else's path." That struck me, because I think the best books and articles and essays do this automatically--connect us with someone else's story. We find ourselves in them. We recognize our own journey and pathway somehow in what we read. I'm so glad you shared this, and I'm sorry you lost your husband to death. What a gift to have a friend with whom you could share your walk through grief. I appreciate you being here!
Thank you Jeannie, I appreciate you as well! We all can learn from each other, even if we are on different paths.
I absolutely feel that way, too, Nancy!
You are a remarkable person, Jeannie. I imagine you and your family are walking a tightrope of emotions on any given day. And still you open up your heart to so many. We see it here on Substack and those lucky enough to cross your path experience it in person. Thank you for lifting up my spirits today.
Dawn, what a kind thing to say. I actually feel the same about you - that you are remarkable for all you have gone through. Maybe that's why we're all here together, because we recognize that attribute in each other. ❤️❤️
I have a friend who reminds people of something said by Winnie the Pooh: life is just so daily. You live that every moment, as did Marion and Jolene. There is not enough compassion in my heart to ease that, though I so wish there were.
Oh, I love that—”Life is just so daily.” What a great quote! Hadn’t heard that one before.
Wow, the way that connection was made; stranger to stranger to stranger. it just goes to show how powerfully we are all connected, doesn't it? We're going to travel those pathways whatever it takes.
So beautifully written, Jeannie. 🙏💚
Absolutely, Don. It was a serendipitous moment, a ripple effect of sorts. I never doubt those moments but try to lean into them.
I read somewhere Jeannie, that if you can understand a person that is a wonderful gift, whether or not you can actually do anything else for them. That is so true, to feel truly understood is such a comfort beyond words. I'm sure the family must have felt that, thanks to you.
I think you're right--feeling understood means more than what can be purchased, more than any material gift. Just the gift of presence. I try to use this digital space to hold people where they are and help them feel seen, heard, and valued, and I try to do that in real life, too. What you wrote here touches my heart and helps fuel my resolve to keep writing. Thanks again, Suzanne.
That was such a powerful thing to read. I couldn't listen as would have been awash with tears. I'm so glad you and Ben could be there for the Amish family in their terrible anguish, but what an overwhelmingly sad reason for your two communities to come together. I just wish someone could have been there for you both when Sarah was born. 💔
That means a lot, Suzanne. It was really hard, but by the time I spoke with Marion, I was just grateful to be in a position to help someone else who was hurting like I did after Sarah was born.
I woke up at 12:30 AM after about two hours of mediocre sleep. I couldn’t decide to read or listen first, so I decided to let my cat decide for me. I got into my recliner, my back, hips and ribs aching, and decided if Daisy was the first one on my lap I’d read this first, then listen to your vocal. If Rodney was first then I’d listen first, then read. Daisy was first (it’s 1:11 and I’m still wondering where’s my boy Rodney) just moments after I tipped back, before my heating pad got warm. You have such energy, compassion and basic human decency. And you tell stories so well, as if your feelings are bypassing your brain cells and appearing straight from your heart onto the page. Thanks again for reaching out to check on my wife and me, and thanks for sharing so much of your spirit and your heart on this platform. Nitey-nite!
Hi Rafael,
Wow, what an affirmation: "You have such energy, compassion and basic human decency. And you tell stories so well, as if your feelings are bypassing your brain cells and appearing straight from your heart onto the page." Thank you for that. I will tuck your words away and remember them when I begin to doubt my ability as a writer.
By the way, I was awake around 12:30 AM, too--remembered it was a full moon, tossed and turned a bit while my monkey mind went haywire, cried a bit, then fell back asleep. Solidarity, friend!
“Monkey mind.” That’s just choice description. Maybe it’s a syndrome or something, because I definitely have a case of it. Just between you and me, I think that could be costing me as much sleep as actual physical pain. I meant every word of my praise of your storytelling. I’m sure that it’s 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration. Your written output is so large and it reads so beautifully simple as you tackle difficult and complex material. A writer cannot fake honesty—either it’s there or it’s not. And you’re a very good narrator as well. Have you ever thought of getting an agent and taking a shot at narration or voice-over work?
Hi Rafael,
You’re probably right about monkey mind. For me, it’s a bout of anxiety plus a hefty dose of perimenopausal hormones. :)
Again, your feedback is incredible—specific, kind, encouraging.
To answer your question, yes, I am actually in the midst of querying agents for my memoir, but so far I have only gotten rejections (6 weeks of querying 40+ agents is brutal). I’m not sure what to do with my manuscript, but I’m pressing on for now and will try to find an indie publisher if I can’t acquire an agent.
Your support means so much to me, especially hearing you say you think my writing quality is worth finding an agent!
Love to read your words. It’s been a long road with my baby, too, and I’m grateful for every day.
Thanks for being here, Julie.
Such a moving story. Thank you, Jeannie.
Thanks, Robin. I'm glad it touched your heart today.
Oh, Gosh Jeannie, I admire you so much. I am so moved by your essay, wisdom and love. I have more to say but i will when we talk. In the meanwhile, just thank you!
I'm so excited to talk to you again soon. Thanks for being here. ❤️❤️
Touching
Thanks, Jennifer!
May God continue to bless you and your family. ❤️
Thanks, Marcia!