Presence, Success

Maybe I Do Have a Little Problem with My Phone

March 7, 2026

Definitely seems too early to see a California poppy blooming. Still, it’s a beautiful reminder that spring is on the way.

Sometimes it is helpful to have someone remind you of something you already know.

Mel Robbins’ podcast is jam-packed with episodes that promise to significantly improve my life. Recent podcast topics included the “Ultimate Skincare Routine for Amazing Skin,” “How to Design Your Life in One Hour,” and a conversation with a cybersecurity expert that could “save you thousands of dollars.” Another recent podcast told me that I should try to have 30 grams of protein first thing in the morning. But a few years back, I listened to one of her experts talk about the benefits of intermittent fasting. So is it still good to eat thirty grams of protein in the morning if you are intermittent fasting and don’t usually eat breakfast? Sometimes all the advice from different directions is a little confusing.

But I listened to a Mel Robbins podcast this week that helped me more than it probably should have, because the tips provided were basically common sense. Apparently, it was a week when I needed someone to go through basic things with me again. Robbins talked for an hour about small choices (she called them “micro choices”) we make every day that can make a “surprisingly huge difference” in how our days go.

Let me summarize the four micro choices for you so you don’t need to listen to the podcast: she encourages us to decide first thing in the morning if we’re going to have a good day or a bad day, because “if you’re not choosing one, you’re choosing the other.” She tells us to make wise decisions about our food intake and asks if we’re going to run our days on “fuel or fumes”?; she exhorts us to eat real healthy foods, because relying on caffeine and donuts is not ideal. In the evening, when the day’s work is through, she says that we need to make a choice about whether we will “scroll or sleep.” You can guess which option is the preferred one, since sleep is such an important part of a healthy life and doom-scrolling on social media late into the night is not.

All of that made sense to me, nothing earth-shattering. But the first small choice she talked about was the one that grabbed me. I put it into practice this week, and she was right. It was a small choice that made a huge difference. And it couldn’t have been simpler: first thing in the morning, after you wake up, consciously choose what you reach for.

In other words, for me: do not reach for my phone. Leave it on the charger. Grab it only after I’ve done some of the things that I say are most important to me, like writing with my online writing group, writing in my journal, or sitting for quiet meditation. Continue Reading…

Presence

Storm Reflections

February 28, 2026

A daffodil that just started blooming. Luckily, it wasn’t hit by the branches that fell around it.

Last Saturday morning, I sat down at my kitchen table and shared that I was crying. I was looking out at about five feet of snow piled against my front windows, snow that had fallen off the roof of my home since the storms started Tuesday. The roads around us had been plowed by the county, but ours hadn’t been. I watched people on the main road just above me, driving in and out of town without any problem. I was starting to despair that I would ever be able to leave my house again.

A little dramatic, I know.

That was the morning. But then my new neighbor texted and said he would be coming to town the next day and would be happy to help tow my car out of the snow. Feeling a tiny bit of hope for the first time in days, I ventured out for a walk with Biscuit and came across another neighbor with a tractor who said he would help plow me out. Just as I walked up the street to thank my neighbor, who had arrived with his tractor and had already cleared a path from the main road to my car, a truck from the county arrived, and an official said that the rest of the road would be plowed later that afternoon. Possibly the county worker was a little surprised when I reached out and gave him a hug; I was that grateful.

A few hours later, my road was plowed.

The storm came—and the storm passed.

Today, it is Saturday morning, and I am at my kitchen table again, looking out the same window. The temperature might get close to 70 degrees today. It feels like spring—stunning how fast it changed. My neighbor’s lawn, which was covered in snow last week, is green and lush. I feared the flowering quince would have been pummeled by the weight of the snow, but it bounced back and is beautiful. I am amazed that there are still daffodils blooming. I was afraid that the snow and subfreezing temperatures would have finished them, which was why I picked as many as I could before the weather rolled in—but apparently daffodils are stronger than I thought.

Maybe I am too, because I also made it through the week. I missed work and was housebound, but I managed to bring in firewood through the snow, pulled out my snowshoes, and shoveled paths through the snow as best I could. When the power went out, I heated water for tea in small ceramic ramekins on the woodstove, loaded my freezer and refrigerated food into ice chests, stored them in the snow, and didn’t lose anything I had purchased at Costco a few days earlier. I took care of my pets. I took care of myself, too.

The flowering quince was completely covered by snow last week. Today, it’s beautiful again.

Here is something that I want to remember from the storms that came last week: things change, and sometimes they change quickly. Moments when I’m near despair are only moments; they don’t last forever. It might seem like the snow will never stop and my road will never get plowed—but that’s not the end of the story. The snow melted, and the sun came out again.

I believe and trust that everything works for good in the end, and I’m called to do my part to help make it happen. That means putting on my snowshoes and picking up my snow shovel when that’s needed—and putting on my marching shoes and picking up my protest sign when the time is right for that. And always, to work for justice, love kindness, walk humbly, and trust that Julian of Norwich was right when she said, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

On snowy days. On sunny days. Even on this day, when President Trump, the “self-declared peace president,” went to war with Iran and later attended a fancy fund-raising dinner. Especially on this day.

May it be so.

Hard to believe that there was three feet of snow on this path a week ago. Biscuit even found a perfect stick.