This is my favorite time of year. Nearby mountains cloaked in winter white, gaggles of geese discussing where to winter, family and friends gathering and giving thanks and eating way too much pie and lighting menorah candles and decking the halls and welcoming in a New Year.
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
Most worthwhile things in life come with some risk-taking. Pursuing a medical degree. Marriage. Starting a business. Begetting offspring. Climbing tall mountains.
Photo by Martin Jernberg on Unsplash
The question is: Is the risk worth it?
The organization is incredible. When volunteers check in, they’re given a name tag along with their volunteer assignment: Greeters, and seaters, and beverage pourers, and servers, and pumpkin pie embellishers.
All photos: Marlys
The cooks had been there since 4:00am and the clean-up crew would be there long into the afternoon.
Back in May 2015, just six months after my husband, Gary, died of cancer, I was single grandma to three grandkids while Daughter Summer and SIL Josh were in Uganda in the process of doubling the number of their children.
Photo by Brigitte Tohm on Unsplash
It all started with a simple question from Godfrey, my middle-born Ugandan grandson: “What are we doing for Family Day?”
Which got his parents thinking and planning, which prompted a FaceTime call Friday afternoon: We’re at the park. Releasing balloons to Grandpa.
Photo: Pixabay
November is one of my favorite months — what with autumn color skittering across the sidewalks, and chillier temps that beg for scarves and mittens and boots, and the promise of upcoming family holidays.
It’s also the month my husband, Gary, died.
Photo by Bonnie Kittle on Unsplash
“Mom, people want to help,” admonished our daughter, Summer, visiting from New Jersey. “And they want to do it in meaningful ways.”
Photo by John-Mark Kuznietsov on Unsplash
For some people, the unknown carries anticipation. A job transition, for example, that could mean new opportunity, new friends, a new community, the excitement of pushing away from the dock and pursuing far-reaching, blustery adventures.
For others, the unknown causes anxiety. Leaving the safety of the familiar shore, being swept out into uncharted waters.
Photo by Daniel Delle Donne on Unsplash
My husband, Gary, and I were back in Hospice House after breaking out for two weeks. Love found us there, because there is no hiding from love.
Visitors, food, chai tea in cheery red cups, gift baskets. And these groovy mismatched socks with the manufacturer’s tag that read, “Life’s too short to wear matching socks.”
Copyright © 2026 Marlys Johnson
