Simple Acts

A week ago, the New York Times urged its readers to embark upon a five-day friendship challenge (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, go here). I love short initiatives with meaningful payoffs, so I reached out to several friends with whom I hadn’t spoken or seen in months. In doing so, I had no idea how much benefit I’d receive from those simple acts. 

In setting up coffee and lunch dates or engaging in long overdue phone conversations, I became reconnected to people who were part of my world at crucial points in time. I puzzled why I had been so mired down in daily life that I’d neglected those relationships. The outreaches pulled me out of a lull that often happens when I transition from winters in Sarasota to summering along Lake Michigan’s shores.

With friendship on my mind, I forwarded an inspirational post (see below at the bottom) to treasured writer friends with whom I keep up with on social media. Those of you who have dabbled in writing know how lonely and tedious the process can be when submitting for publication. The effort is akin to putting in for a promotion, transfer, or new job position. You get up the courage. You press enter. You hope. You deal with the disappointment. You try again. 

Within minutes after sending the simple message, I received a reply from a member of my writer tribe. Lynn, a woman I know through my work in the adoption community, wrote, “Thanks for sending this. You don’t know how much I needed to read this today.” 

I smiled to myself. My outreach had taken two seconds, but the result had meant something to both of us. 

All the recent positive exchanges with friends served to buoy my faltering spirit, made me feel like I had returned to a place where I had always belonged. The karma expanded. Yesterday, when I checked in for a self-indulgent (but very necessary massage), my favorite therapist welcomed me with warmth and familiarity. As she escorted me back to the treatment rooms, she pointed out the ladies’ restroom. Inside, next to the bathroom mirror, I spied a sign that one typically expects to find in places like a wellness spa.

In scanning the poster, I zeroed in on the larger print section suggesting I “cherish family and friends.” Smiling in the mirror, I nodded in validation. I was knee deep in that endeavor thanks to the New York Times challenge. The other thing that the day spa’s signage invoked was a memory, a recollection of another time and place when a stop in a ladies’ restroom provided uncanny inspiration. 

Several years ago (before the COVID-19 pandemic), I blogged about that “very bad day,” here. To summarize, my nerve-wracking day ended with picking up takeout from a favorite Mexican restaurant. My order wasn’t ready, so I headed to the ladies bathroom. Just like the spa visit yesterday, my eyes went right to inspirational words painted near the sink. 

“Hello, Gorgeous” greeted me.

Staring at the verse, I recalled the line had been made famous by Barbra Streisand in her show Funny Girl. Despite feeling frustrated, hassled, and harried, I laughed out loud. Humor, provided by a bathroom mural, had pierced and eradicated the onerous frustrations of a long day. Experts say that one can’t be sad or angry or fearful if joy and laughter are the presiding emotions.

As I dried my hands in the spa bath, I noticed something else. A large clear glass bottle occupied a prominent spot on the window ledge. The morning light edged into the small space, highlighting the single word etched onto the bottle: Hope.

Besides friendship and belonging, hope is something all of us struggle to find each and every day, and in most of our tomorrows. With so much negativity in the news and scores of challenges to navigate in daily life, hope often seems ethereal, beyond our grasp. As I returned to the massage treatment room, I contemplated the concept of hope. Maybe hope is more attainable than we realize. Perhaps it is right there, close like our shadow, within reaching distance like a bottle on a window ledge. 

The more I think about this, perhaps, it is on us to reach within ourselves, usher hope to the surface, and then share it with others through the bonds of friendship and community. 

It’s a place to start, isn’t it?

“A writer is a writer not because she writes well and easily, because she has amazing talent, or because everything she does is golden. A writer is a writer because, even when there is no hope, even when nothing you do shows any sign of promise, you keep writing anyway.”
– Junot Diaz

BOOK NEWS

Belonging Matters: Conversations on Adoption, Family, and Kinship has been named a Finalist in the 18th Annual National Indie Excellence Awards in two categories: Personal Growth and Book Cover Design: Nonfiction.

Follow Me Here

On Monday, June 10th, Julie appeared on FB Live with Meg Nocero, “Manifesting with Meg.” They discussed all things writing, as well as adoption, identity, belonging, and the importance of positivity. Tune in here.

On June 20th, Julie will record two episodes with host Jason and Jolene on the In-Te-Great-Ness podcast. The first will center on Julie’s thoughts about adoption and the second one on the universal topic of belonging. Links to the recording will be posted as soon as they are available.

On July 22, Julie will speak to Hazel’s Book Club at The United Methodist Church in Hinsdale, IL about her memoir Twice a Daughter.

In September (1-16th) Julie will join Laura Davis (The Writer’s Journey) and other like-minded pilgrims to hike, write, and paint along the El Camino trail in northern Spain.

In October (18-20th), Julie will attend Florida WritersCon in Orlando, FL with colleagues from the Florida Writers Association (FWA).

Follow Julie by visiting her website, subscribe to her bimonthly newsletters, and listen to previous podcast recordings.

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