Reflecting in the Arms of God

This year began in the most magical way with our whole family at Disney. Ranging in age from 1 to 60, we laughed and were present for one another, filled with joy and dreaming ahead. There was so much anticipation for the year. August graduation was on the horizon (and it happened!), and this was going to be our year. Steven and I held 2025 in the palm of our hands. Steven poured himself into researching Rome, booking a Norwegian cruise departing from Civitavecchia with stops to Santorini, Athens, Mykonos, Naples, among others. He was so excited that he was finally going to celebrate a season of beautiful milestones from his 2023 retirement to 2025 graduation. Additionally, my word for the year was flow. It was important for me to loosen my grip, not be so rigid and trust all that would be unfolding this year. Then January 27th happened and it goes without saying that Steven’s cardiac arrest changed everything followed by his death on February 3rd. Flow took on a new meaning. It meant learning how to breathe again, how to stand in uncertainty, and how to show up daily for a life that I never anticipated.

And yet, even here, love has surrounded me and my kids and their incredible spouses. We’ve leaned deeply into family and friends, carrying immense gratitude for all the ways they have shown up for in such meaningful ways. Relationships have shifted during this time of loss. Some have been gentle and barely noticeable ways, others more profoundly, which have taught me about presence, capacity, and grace. Our Mary Queen of Peace Catholic Church community has been an incredible source of steadiness and care. We are constantly reminded that we are not alone in our grief.

I am so proud of our kids, Katy & Nicholas, and their spouses Shelby & Christina, of how they have met grief with strength, compassion, and maturity beyond their years. I’ve often felt like they have parented me more than I’ve parented them and I’ve given myself permission to receive it. We are all in this together. In the midst of loss, there is also new life ahead, with Nick & Christina expecting their first baby in May 2026. This is a beautiful sign that life continues.

As this year closes, my word of the year for 2026 is embodied: choosing to live present in this body, this story, this becoming. I’m working on my debut memoir and training for 29029 Everesting in September 2026, moving forward one step at a time. I honor God by writing from my lived experience and by moving through my days with a deep awareness of holding grief, healing, faith, and strength while anchored in the promise that God is taking care of us all.

Dream boldly. Believe fiercely. Achieve faithfully.

Life With Lisa