October 6th Reflection

 The Tree of Life Within

Resilience is not about standing untouched; it is about standing rooted, like the Tree of Life. I've learned that strength is not found in avoiding the storm, but in allowing my roots to reach deeper because of it. The unseen places, the pain, the loss, the quiet rebuilding, become the soil that nourishes new growth.

Each scar tells a story of endurance, each branch a reaching toward light after darkness. There is beauty in the bending, grace in the breaking, and wisdom in the waiting between seasons.

When I imagine the tree within me, I see a living prayer, my spirit grounded in truth. My heart open to release what no longer serves me, and my soul ever reaching toward what's next. Resilience is my reminder that even after the fiercest winds, I still can stand, steady, rooted, and alive with possibility. 

October 3, 2025

October has arrived with crisp mornings and golden light, and I find myself pausing in its stillness. My life feels peaceful now, even with the losses and struggles I’ve carried through the years. I’m happy, living the best I can, but this season always seems to bring its own lessons.

Parenting young adults is its own kind of balancing act, being Mom and being a friend, knowing when to step in and when to simply step back. It’s a love that requires trust and space. At the same time, I’m learning how to stand in this new chapter, life without kids at home, and without a partner beside me.

This month also carries milestones. On October 8th, it will be ten years since his passing, a decade gone in what feels like the blink of an eye. I miss him everyday. But this year, I won’t have much time to linger in the sadness and the ache. I’ll drive to Phoenix after work, stay with my daughter, then fly to Colorado the next day to see friends. Maybe that’s as it should be, life nudging me forward.

Still, October makes me restless. I want to be bold and fearless, to step fully into life, even as I notice the ways I hold myself back. The season feels like an invitation, not just in the colors of the trees or the coolness in the air, but in my own spirit.

Maybe this October, I’ll listen to that invitation. Maybe I’ll let the falling leaves remind me how to release, how to turn, how to begin again.