The Writer’s Retreat was Amazing!

September 28, 2023September 28, 2023

The Writer’s Retreat was Amazing!

A dream of mine came true.

For several years now I’ve been thinking of creating a writer’s retreat. Why? I’ll tell you.

I wrote a book seven years ago and it has done well. I love my little book and I knew I wanted to write another. While taking care of my mom, I was really stuck. When she passed, I started two other books within a year but was stuck again.

I’m a wedding coordinator and my season usually starts in spring and ends in the fall. Last year it didn’t end until December. My writing season is honestly, the dead of winter. That is when it is the most quiet and my brain can relax.

The frustrating part is the wait. I know I’m going to get to my writing season and at times, it’s agonizing. But I’m too busy to sit down and just do it. I get overwhelmed thinking about it and then you know what happens. Nothing.

I searched for writer’s retreats with the idea being to sequester myself and be motivated by other writers. Most of the ones that interested me were a distance away and expensive. There’s one I’d like to go to but it’s on an island (in the Northern part of the US) and though it would probably be an amazing experience, it’s darn expensive. The process of writing a book is free, but everything else about it costs money.

So my thoughts turned to creating a writer’s retreat. I have talented friends- an editor/ publisher and a graphic designer (who designed my book and cover)- and they were willing to be a part of it. Then, I kept getting emails from a retreat center about an hour from me, and one day it hit me. Retreat center= writer’s retreat!

So I contacted Jenni at the Forest and Flowers Retreat and we began to talk. Originally I was going to do all of the planning, but Jenni made an offer. She wanted to turn it into a entire weekend. After several more discussions, we honed in on the accommodations, food, and reservations- and the entire writer’s day/optional weekend was born!

What unfolded was nothing short of magical. Here’s the highlights.

I saw two mama deer, each with one baby, just minutes from the retreat center. And all because Karen and I passed up the entrance accidentally. A definite sign of a spiritual connection.
The sky was a gorgeous shade of blue.
We didn’t need heat in the morning nor A/C in the afternoon. A perfect day!
Cori, Karen, and Sue were amazing presenters.
The guests were even more amazing!
Jenni was the consummate host. She had everything laid out so well and attractively, exactly as I would have wanted to do myself.
The food was delicious, especially the apple cider donuts.
The attendees were engaged, motivated, and inspired.
I came away with new friends.
We received lots of hugs and thanks.

So there. I helped make this day happen, but it was the people in it that made it so special. I do feel a renewed sense of commitment to my writing- to my two books I have already started, and to the third one that has been spinning in my head since the last one.

Cori said to make writing a part of our routine. To go where we can best unleash ourselves whether that be a coffee shop, library, or a room in our home. For me, dedicating time to writing needs to be a given, a treat, and not a chore. I have resisted, partly because I blamed the isolation of it as unattractive. But truly, I will attempt to change my attitude towards a brighter light. It could be a release, a relaxation, and a joy to do a book again. That’s where I want my thinking to go.

Thank you to everyone who participated in our writing retreat! You made it the special day it was. And yes, there will be another so stay tuned! See the list of presenters below!

The Writers! All Photos Courtesy of Jenni Hulburt.

Flowers and Flowers Retreat- Jenni Hulburt

April 9, 2023April 9, 2023

All Things Bright and Beautiful

We are at the start of spring- a wondrous time to celebrate new life. I know that I always welcome this time of year with open arms, especially after a long winter.

Having returned from Florida a week ago, I was relieved to see green grass, daffodils, and our blossoming peach trees. The sight of it warmed me and I was thankful for these blessings.

I had two weeks in sunny Siesta Key and though I’ve been there, done that for almost ten years, there was a difference this year. This is the first time I’d been away absent the role of caregiver.

The first week went by quickly. I languished by the pool, soaked up the sun, went shopping, and ate well. The second week was different. It was slow, rich with time, and well, restful. I drank it up in meaningful gulps, relishing precious time without pressure to get things done.

I read an entire novel. I made Greek green beans. Going through my favorite consignment store in Sarasota, I found a dress. Shells made their way into my take home pouch. I greeted the rising sun and prayed to the setting one.

I have finally reached a point that I have to tell myself- it is ok to relax. I’ve earned it, I say, though this is always a selfish thought. I have cared for others for forty years and it’s time to give thanks. I’ve done things to the best of my ability and with that, I am ready to move on.

I’m grateful to God for all my blessings. My family and friends embrace me with love and fill my heart with joy. I will travel again this month, to North and South Carolina. I’m looking forward to that.

Happy Easter to my Christian friends, Happy Palm Sunday to my Orthodox Friends, and Chag Pesach Samech friends celebrating Passover.

March 12, 2023March 12, 2023

The World According to Kay

Many of you know that my mom’s name was Katherine (hence this blog name, Katherine’s Daughter), and that she passed last January 2022. Lots of things have been going through my mind about her. Times spent together, her last couple of years, and the pearls of wisdom she bestowed upon me and many others. I want to share some of the latter.

There were those aesthetic things. She’d never wear pumps without hose (even knee highs were better than nothing). Her clothes were always pressed, and she loved a bit of perfume on herself. Mom didn’t have many outfits but the ones she had were always nice.

She never wanted to wear old, frumpy types of shoes or boots. In my teens, I remember she had a very stylish type of black boot, with fur around the ankle. They had a kitten heel and I don’t know how she even walked in them in the snow. As she aged, she loved a simple pair of white Keds for shopping, and a pair of black, black patent Clarks loafers for dressy occasions.

Mom went to Vegas a couple of times with my dad (on business) and I still have a pair of clip on, bling hoops that she came back with. She wore them many times to dances and even though they’re not my style, I love having them in my jewelry box. As she aged, she preferred simple jewelry- a pair of pearl earrings, her gold cross on Sundays, and the seasonal pins I loved to buy for her.

As for the pearls of wisdom, mom had many. She believed that if you made a wrong turn, you were meant to go that way and you should just keep going. Also, if you waited long enough, most problems would be solved, usually by God.

She had an unwavering faith and loved everything about our church. The people, the music, the Greek Orthodox Liturgy. She knew the hymns inside out and though she couldn’t hear a word the priest was saying for the last years of her life, we always sat under the choir loft where she could sing quietly to herself.

Special hymns at certain times of the years would bring back memories. Sometimes she’d cry over them because they reminded her of her childhood. It was very touching.

For baking and cooking, mom never used margarine, always Land O Lakes butter. And always Mazola oil or Wesson, not extra virgin olive oil (that I use and love). She touted fresh ingredients and almost always cooked from scratch every night. Growing up, we never ate a TV dinner or a pot pie. She loved to cook and went through a period when she stopped at the grocery store every day, just so she could prepare whatever she was hungry for.

In baking, she bought fresh staples whenever she’d make Greek cookies. Baking soda, baking powder especially, because she knew from experience that older boxes of these things could really turn a recipe wonky.

I think most of all, mom taught me to be a class act. This meant modesty in clothing and jewelry. It was presenting myself with poise and self respect. Standing up straight and having a smile on my face. Being kind and helpful. It meant never letting myself publicly engage in swearing, mean behavior, or acts unbecoming to a lady.

More and more, I realize I was really blessed and lucky to have had her for all the years that I did. Thank you Mom.

March 27, 2022March 27, 2022

Saying Good Bye to Mom

Dear Friends,

As most of you know, my mom passed away in January at the age of 92. It had been a long couple of months as we bravely tried to manage her decline. It was hard, bittersweet, and amazing. I have never been through anything like it in my life.

I’ve just returned home from Siesta Key, Florida, a place where my sisters and I began, seven years ago, to bring mom. We would rent a beautiful condo together and visit with my mom’s brother, his wife, and numerous others that she grew up with in her hometown of Stockdale, PA. Initially we stayed for one week, but it soon became evident that staying two weeks was the only way to go.

It is simply paradise there. There are palm trees, magnificent sunrises and sunsets, white sand, emerald green water. There are glimpses of dolphin fins once in a while and the lifeguard stands are brightly colored. People are kind and nice. Strangers say hello, ask questions, or just say good morning. It is a place for rest and rejuvenation.

Such is necessary after the long, two year pandemic, the quarantine, the worry that my mother brought me on almost a daily basis, and the reckoning of her passing. Her health began to fail slowly about six months ago. She wasn’t recovering as fast from set backs and though my sisters and I managed her health issues as the able bodied taskmasters that we are, my mother’s body was not compliant, not having it, and at times, downright defiant.

My mother had a desire to live, claimed she was not afraid of death, but in the end she succumbed to the failings of her body. We do not get to decide when we want to live or die, and this lesson became very apparent to me. I desperately tried to live in reality as I was watching her body slowly wind down, searching for signs that it really wasn’t going to happen, that it would all reverse, and she would regain another second wind.

The year before my mother’s passing was an educational one. My sisters and I investigated every possible scenario that we could, the goal being to keep my mother in her home. Hospice was a blessing. My mother repeatedly told us that as long as she knew who she was and where she was, she wanted to be at home. Respecting these wishes became our mantra and we did everything we could to make this possible.

There was a series of events that led up to my mom finally being admitted to hospice, and by admitted I mean she was allowed to stay in her home. Many doors opened at this point. It was about a month before her passing and I painstakingly listened to what the aides and nurses were telling me.

Your mother could be bed bound in two weeks. Practice tough love and get her a hospital bed.

Make your mother comfortable and give her the medications that have been provided for her.

No one wants to admit they are losing a parent. Watching those frightening moments of struggle, pain, and suffering, are not for the faint hearted. At any time we could have taken my mother to a hospital or in patient hospice, but we knew that was not what she wanted. We toughed it out.

Friends and relatives came to visit. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for them to witness my mom in her delicate state. Some felt more comfortable than others and I understood that. My sisters and I welcomed everyone who came. A few days before mom passed, her hometown family drove the hour and a half to see her. My sisters and I set the dining room table with the best linen, china, glasses, and silverware, the way our mother would have done for them. We prepared a simple lunch but it felt like a feast. Mom slept through the whole thing, but rallied near the end of their visit and knew they were there. It was a spiritual experience to watch her.

In the last few days of her life, my sisters and I hunkered down at mom’s. It was very bonding- we ate together, slept in shifts, greeted the hospice workers, and managed mom’s care as best we could. We walked her final journey, her last time on earth, with her. My sisters and I are all educated, over achievers, yet this was an experience that challenged us.

All of my worries over the past decade vanished at her passing. I’ve come to realize how much I had already grieved her loss in the last two years. When I would leave her, I’d picture the worst case scenarios- her falling and hurting herself, breaking a hip, being on the floor, struggling to get herself up any way she could. In those moments, I’d flip the picture and pray to God that she would have the peaceful passing she deserved and I wanted for her.

It happened. The traumatic incident that I prayed would not happen, never came. Instead, a gradual transition, a straddling of both this and another world, came into focus. Then slowly, the quiet slipping away to her departed family, where I’m sure they were waiting for her.

I want to thank many of my friends and family who loved and cared about my mom. Her funeral was beautiful and I’m so glad that many cousins made the day a priority. Now comes the time when we rest, recover, and remember all of the wonderful memories, the wisdom, and the beauty that was Katherine.

Love, Joanne

May 3, 2020May 3, 2020

What I Can Be Grateful For Right Now

I have to say, this quarantine is quite the challenge. I’ve been fairly sequestered since March 14 and as the days wear on, staying positive feels like a daily chore.

Since I have spent the last seven years caring for my mom, my life was relatively simple. I had pared back my schedule, no longer working full time, but in the process started a part time business that has been my salvation.

But for wedding coordinators and other event personnel these are trying times. I’m working on a few ideas but business has come to an almost screeching halt. My husband is working from home and honestly, I’m relieved to have him here. From a standpoint of family safety, and for the income it provides, there is much to be thankful for.

What is getting me through? Well, besides coffee and chocolate, it’s Gratitude. Yes, that meaningful little word has become a daily touchstone for me.

In expressing what I’m grateful for, I’ll tell you what I did this morning. I awoke at 6:15 am, started the coffee pot, and walked outside to fill my bird feeders. I wiped the rain drops from my outdoor bench. By the time I walked back in the house, the coffee was just about ready.

I took a cup, a pillow, and went back outside. As I sat on the bench with my warm cup of coffee, I relaxed and listened. The birds were a musical cornucopia. There was so much singing among them, joyous sounds of morning bliss, that I couldn’t help but feel grateful for their chorus.

All day long, on and off, I check on my bird friends to see how they’re doing. I watch them intermingle with the squirrels. I wait for a new sparrow to choose my birdhouse for their next nest. The blackbirds position themselves on the rod where my feeders hang from, perching themselves to have access to the sunflower seeds. They all provide me with a daily reminder to be happy.

Along with the birds, I am in awe of what is blooming in my own backyard. This week I snipped branches of purple lilacs and made a vase full for both me and my mom. Their fragrance fills my kitchen. My peonies are budding, my roses are filled with fresh growth, and my azaleas are on the cusp. Every day I walk outside and look around, waiting for another flower to blossom.

I recently bought zinnias, dahlias, and a few herbs but here in Pennsylvania, it’s a bit too early to put them into the ground. So I have them in pots, outside during the day, and brought in for cooler overnight temperatures. I can wait. They are thriving and it won’t be long until it’s time to plant them in the ground.

One of my orchids has birthed six fresh blooms, with at least three more buds to go. To say they are beautiful is an understatement.

Not my orchids, but these are exactly what I have! Kelly Sikkema

If I just look around, I can find these simple reminders of beauty. This situation will not last forever. It takes a bit of emotional work to stay grounded. We have never had this type of global rest before and we may never have it again. Let’s cherish it.

February 3, 2019February 3, 2019

Warmth

February 2nd was Groundhog Day and yes, Phil said we will have an early spring. I never quite get the shadow, no shadow thing. But yes, supposedly spring is not far away. That is good news.

This past week, many of us endured super cold temperatures. Here in Western Pennsylvania, it reached negative 6 which is quite a big deal. I worried about Jordan (my lab/retriever) every time she went outside, but she seemed to really love the snow. Usually she rolls around in it (brrr…) and even lays down. She’s one tough doggie.

Despite the cold weather, we had numerous days with sunshine. I can take the chilly temps if at least the sun is shining. I do my best to keep my mood up this time of year and sunshine really helps.

In May of this year, my mom will turn 90. To celebrate, my sisters, mom and I will be heading to Siesta Key, Florida for two weeks. We’ve gone for the last three years and always stayed for one week. I haven’t had a two week vacation since I went to Greece about twelve years ago.

When I was growing up, we usually went to Ocean City, Maryland for a week in the summer. My aunts and uncles would be there and usually we’d all stay in a big, three story ocean front townhouse. We were not rich but this was the one splurge my parents indulged in.

My dad loved crabs and beer; so did my uncles. They’d often pick up a couple dozen crabs from Phillips, already steamed and loaded with Old Bay seasoning. Parked on a picnic table on the first deck, they drink their beers and eat crab meat. It didn’t take long for me to learn to clean a crab. To this day, I can’t get enough of crab meat.

Back then, we used sunscreen barely and I remember there wasn’t much other than Coppertone. I remember getting pretty burnt a couple of times but we didn’t worry about that stuff back then. I could take a fair amount of heat in those days. These days, I’m a straw hat and beach umbrella kind of girl.

I seek out the sun and warmth whenever I can, wherever I can. If it’s too bright or hot, I will shield myself from it but I will never be that far away from it. Because it is the sun, and its warmth, that fill me with joy and optimism.

John 8:12
“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

January 13, 2019March 11, 2019

Hibernate

Penny, when she was almost one. Now she’s almost three.

It’s January and the holidays have past. How can that be? It seems like they came and went in the blink of an eye. So much anticipation, planning, gift buying, tree trimming, celebrating (I could go on and on) and boom, here we are.

Though it’s all over, there is something about winter. I don’t like the lack of sunlight, but I do love the quiet. It’s just yes, quieter. As I write this it is snowing and the plow truck has been going up and down my lane all evening, scraping the snow from the road.

When the temperature is above freezing, I love to go outside and pick up sticks. I have the luxury of making a small backyard fire whenever I wish. The smell is so good and Jordan, my trusty lab, loves to sit close. At age thirteen now, I think she warms her bones.

I am keeping my bird feeder filled up as best I can. There are three squirrels at least that are stealing the seed, hanging upside down acrobat style, and getting whatever they can out of the small holes. Sometimes I bang hard on my window and they go running off like the caught bandits they are. Other times, I let it go, thinking they need to eat too. As long as the other birds keep coming (and they do), I’m ok with it.

I’ve been writing, cleaning, lounging, hibernating, staying in touch with friends, and generally doing the best I can to do nothing. Honestly, that’s the truth. I turned 61 in November and I can feel the tide changing. I’m no longer as motivated to push myself. It’s too much work and for a person who has pushed herself forever, I am working at just being. It’s not easy.

So I start with hibernating. I leave my jammies on a little extra longer in the morning. I don’t try and cram my schedule full of stuff to do. If I don’t feel like cooking much, Jim and I eat grilled cheese sandwiches. I pick and choose what I want to participate in.

I am not rich. But I am beyond wealthy when it comes to friends, family, and my spiritual life. I was surrounded by my close family, cousins, children, and grandchildren over the holidays. So many of my friends do not live by their children or grands. Blessed is how I describe it.

Over the years, I have worked at being fully engaged. In my home, I do my best to invite, cook, decorate, and be of assistance. Someday it will be my children’s turn to do this. I am already feeling it will be bittersweet. Though I look forward to it, I know I will let go slowly. I will offer to help, to bring something, and supply grocery gift cards when needed.

And I’ll do my best to cherish and enjoy every moment.

“So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” – 1 Corinthians 13:13

October 29, 2018October 30, 2018

It Starts with Us

I live in Pittsburgh and if you follow the news, we had a horrific incident this past weekend. Without going into detail, I’ll let you click this link if you don’t already know.

I am a Christian and worked in a reform congregation, in the heart of Oakland, for five years. During that time, I detailed all of the events including weddings, baby namings, bar and bat mitzvahs, holiday services and gatherings.

I have a great love for the Jewish community and the lessons they taught me. They were kind and loving, hard working and devoted to their families and their synagogues.

So it is with a heavy sigh that I watched the events of the weekend unfold. My sister and cousin called me to express concern. I was teary over the Saturday night vigil in Squirrel Hill and watched the Sunday evening service at Soldiers and Sailors Memorial with a heavy heart. This coming together is the Pittsburgh I know and love.

Many of my friends are sharing views, videos, and compassion. Mr. Rogers lived in the neighborhood where the shooting occurred. His passionate videos about looking for the helpers have been played over and over. We are trying to recover from the shock. It will probably take a long time.

In allowing myself the time to “feel my feelings” so to speak, I am thinking of the children. I read that local children baked cookies and took them to the Pittsburgh police zone with a kind note. I loved hearing about that. Kidsburgh posted an article on how to talk to children about the tragedy.

I want to tell all children that light will cast out darkness. That if we hope for healing it will happen. If we continue to be kind to others, despite some unkind people, we can make the world a better place.

Believe it or not, we have the power to help shape the future by loving the world’s children. As I watch my granddaughter (almost 3 years old) grow and develop, I breathe a heavy sigh as I see the challenges (and opportunities) of shaping her attitudes, personality, and behavior.

I’ve said it before: children should be loved for who they are and not who we think they should be. And, our attitudes about race, color, and creed are imposed on them, whether we think so or not. Yes, the way we embrace and love others is noticed by our children. It starts with us. Children are not born with knowledge of hate.

So when we are tempted to judge others and discriminate in front of our children, whether in word or deed, let us take a moment to catch ourselves, take a step back, and yes, show unconditional love to all.

“Once you learn to accept and love them for who they are, you subconsciously learn to love yourself unconditionally.”

— Yvonne Pierre

September 1, 2018

Beach Mornings

I have been in the most beautiful seaside town for the past week- Emerald Isle, North Carolina. It is through the graciousness and benevolence of friends that I am here.

It had been a few years since I spent time with the Atlantic Ocean. Though I went to Nantucket a couple of years ago, it was too cold to wade in. When I go to Siesta Key (Florida) in March, I’m on the gulf side.

Having been raised on vacations in Ocean City, Maryland, the Atlantic Ocean is like an old friend. The sound of the waves and salty air are familiar. When I stick my toes in the warm sand, it’s as if I’ve come home.

On this vacation, I left my family behind. It’s a relatively new experience for me. There’s no one to take care of here (really) other than myself. I’m aware of trying to be a help- making breakfast, setting up a pot of coffee, loading and unloading the dishwasher, etc- but it is not mandatory. I’ve chosen not to go out to dinner a few times, embracing the peace and quiet that’s left behind.

Dare we (who are so busy) strip away our responsibilities on purpose? Who are we when we are not mothering, working, worrying, anticipating, or stressing? We are wrapped around our identities like the wrapper on a lollipop. It’s a challenge to strip that away, let ourselves relax, and enjoy the nothingness of vacation.

Getting up at the crack of dawn to see the sun rise is challenging. Yes, when we set no alarm clock the temptation to sleep in is oh, so strong. I did get up early several times, mainly because I normally do; I’m a rooster who likes to be up with the sun. One morning, I sat on the deck with my coffee, eagerly awaiting the dawn. As the first rays began to appear, I couldn’t resist the tug to get down on the beach. The first time, I was dressed in only pajama shorts (with watermelons on them no less) and a Bette Midler t-shirt. I said to my friend John, “No one will care how I look.”

It was profoundly quiet except for the sound of the waves. As I watched the sun come up, a feeling of being one with God came over me. No one and nothing else, in those few moments, mattered. It was just me and my creator. I wasn’t afraid. I was silenced and humbled by the simple magnificence of what I was witnessing.

I started walking and met a 5 month old yellow lab and his mom. DJ was very interested in me and let me pet the top of his head. A man with a tripod and camera was setting up a shot with a conch shell and a starfish. I thought, “Buddy, you are missing the point.” The sunrise was so gorgeous and I hope he took the time to notice it.

I probably have fifty sunrise and sunset pictures at this point. Laughing, I tried to eliminate a few but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Each one is slightly different. I love them all.

IMG_20180829_204935_928

Have you made your getaway plans yet? I hope you do!

Love from the beach,

Joanne xo

July 6, 2018July 6, 2018

Open Your Windows

Most mornings I have been opening the windows in every room in my house. A few months ago, a good friend of mine told me she opens her windows every day for twenty minutes. Mind you, she told me this in the dead of winter and (no kidding), I tried it a couple of times. I shut the heat off and opened the windows.

It was exhilarating to say the least!

My friend Daleen told me this practice exchanges stale air for clean air and I can believe it. I have asthma and the winters are hard on me. I’ll try anything that can help me breathe.

Now that summer is here, it’s definitely easier to practice this concept. It’s been very hot here (for Pittsburgh that is), around 90 degrees, so I have to open the windows as early as I can. But even this little bit of time feels beneficial.

My favorite thing about this “window time” is hearing the birds sing. They chirp their delightful melodies, over and over again. It never gets old. My daughter bought me the coolest bird house for Christmas and there’s a small bird nesting in it. I’m not sure what the variety is (a wren?), but its song is so sweet.

If it’s raining when I open my windows, that’s a bonus. I love the sound of rain.

In addition to opening windows, I love taking the time to be outside in the morning. My friend Cathy came for a visit a couple of weeks ago. Three out of four mornings together we sat outside, in unmatched plastic lawn chairs, and had our coffee. I donned my old straw hat from Hydra, Greece, a relic from ten years ago, and a necessity for bright Pennsylvania mornings.

So, picture this. A warm, bright sun. Two women, sipping coffee, sitting in old chairs, watching this small brown bird going in and out of a cool birdhouse. Me in my old hat, Cathy in her colorful beach caftan. Yes, I am lucky and blessed. We talk and talk about anything and everything. That is really some priceless stuff.

I think that opening my windows and connecting with nature is a deeply spiritual thing. It is a chance to touch base with God and be inside of myself. Sometimes I turn music on but most of the time I’m content to revel in the quiet. I try and keep my efforts to a minimum in those moments. That time is really for me.

I think this window practice can be done by anyone. Obviously, all you need is a window, or an outdoor spot, and a willingness. Exchanging the air can only be a good thing; fresh air is for everyone. I notice that if I add outside time to my window ritual, my day can take on a whole new meaning.

“Open the window of your mind. Allow the fresh air, new lights and new truths to enter.”
― Amit Ray, Walking the Path of Compassion

Category: Faith