Years ago, when my grandmother was passing away, I had one last visit with her.

I had always loved and admired her. She was an incredible human.

In the later years of her life, she had written her story (with the help of my cousin), and it was a remarkable one.

In it, she shared about life in pre-war Germany, the beautiful story of meeting my grandfather, the terrifying story of being of Jewish ancestry, her desire and plans to marry my Christian theological student grandfather (who had studied at Finkenwalde seminary under Bonhoeffer, that gives you a flavour of their perspective and overall story)… and eventually, how with Bonhoeffer’s help, they went to London to continue his ministry work, spending much time supporting Jewish families come to England.

I loved hearing and reading her stories, although many were painful to share. I’m so glad that she documented them all. Along with the careful documentation she kept over the years by way of letters (a shame that we no longer send and receive letters!), she dictated stories to my cousin who compiled them for her into a book that is one of my most cherished possessions.

In 2016, I even visited Germany with two of my kids and followed the locations mentioned in her book, tracing her steps. It was a very emotional experience to visit her old school, her old farm, even eat in the cafe where she would get cake…

Ok, back to the last conversation we ever had… she told me I needed to write.

She knew about some of the ups and downs and crazy stories I already had. My divorce, my remarriage, raising this blended family.

“You need to write this all down,” she said.

And over the years, I have written. A family blog for years, which I love that my kids can refer back to as I tried to capture so many of our memories.

But I know there is more of a book in me still. To be honest, I’m not sure I’m ready to share all of my story yet, out of respect for my kids, because my story involves a lot about other important people in their lives.

Now while that story hasn’t been told yet, another one has.

The story of many of my teachings and frameworks that I’ve developed over the years. And instead of a book, they became guided journals. Not a blank journal. Not a full book. The in-between.

So it was an exciting, surreal moment to have four of my “projects” (the Resilience Journal, My Safe Space Affirmation and Journal Prompt Cards, the Worry Time Pad, and my new Doodle Journal) showcased at the London Stationery Show.

London, no less. Where my grandmother started her life over with my grandfather, having left everything behind in Germany.

The Week in London

We flew in from Portugal and it actually felt a bit shocking. Like we were being pulled back to a different season! Cooler air, grey skies, lots of rain. Back to jeans, long sleeves and a jacket all the time.

It truly highlighted how much I need and miss the sun when it’s not there.

Our first night we grabbed Indian food near our very basic (and very small!) hotel and settled in.

The next day was Mother’s Day (they don’t celebrate it this time of year in England, but it still was for me!).

Rob and I walked down to Covent Garden, and along the way we stumbled onto this pink Nesquik cereal shop that had just opened, giving out free cereal. Everything was pink and so so cute.

It reminded me of when my boys, Zach and Josh were little, and they would “make me” Froot Loops (my divorce cereal of choice, don’t ask!!) for Mother’s Day. They would pour the cereal, pour the milk in right away, wash me an apple, get me a drink. Then call me to come eat (so yes, the Froot Loops were very soggy by then). Even better, they’d practice the same meal, same routine for days in advance, which meant I’d end up with soggy Froot Loops a few days in a row.

I loved every single bowl, or rather the thought behind every bowl. I also love the memories of Zach setting the table, then giving Josh instructions, Josh carefully standing on a chair at the kitchen sink, washing the apple…

So having junk cereal on Mother’s Day in the pinkest cafe (pink is my fave colour) felt very appropriate and brought up some very tender memories.

We watched street performers at Covent Garden (honestly a masterclass in selling and working a crowd!! I love observing people and learning from them), had high tea at Brown’s Brasserie with the little sandwiches and scones, and then walked down to the London Eye.

We were a little worried at first when we saw in the distance it wasn’t moving, and we thought it was closed (even though we had tickets). Well, it turned out it had just had technical issues and was about to restart, so we ended up being first in line! (Little, fun miracles I’m calling things like that these days!)

The view of the city was gorgeous. We’ve done a few Ferris wheels on our travels over the years and always enjoy them.

We walked a lot, past Big Ben (although no longer called that), the beautiful Westminster Abbey, and then found a pub near Trafalgar Square, and I had a proper Sunday roast. So good. We used to have Sunday roasts when I was a kid, and it makes me crave doing one when the kids are all home!

25,000 steps later, we were back at the hotel and I got to talk to a few of my kids for Mother’s Day. All in all, a really good day.

The next day we walked to Camden Market along a canal lined with houseboats and little condos that open right onto the water. Who knew that existed in London?! It was so cute. And rainy (not so cute).

Camden itself was a but of a sensory overload, but admittedly quite cool to see. Stall after stall of food, art, thrift shops. We had a sushi burger (very yummy), a sausage all dressed in a bun (Rob was craving) and some “humble crumble” (again, a Rob craving). When the rain got too much, we headed back to the hotel for a quick power nap (and of course some work that I do need to squeeze in… because I am here working after all!)

Later that afternoon, we headed to the Stationery show to drop off some of my samples.

I’m part of a collective, *Impact Stationery”, that had a booth there, and they were setting up. They had run into all sorts of problems, so Rob and I stayed and helped build the display until about eight o’clock, then headed back and got a quick (but delicious) meal from a Vietnamese restaurant close by.

The Show

The London Stationery Show was the whole reason we were in London.

Rob left early on Tuesday morning to take the train up to Nottingham to spend a couple of days with my youngest stepson, Sam, who’s studying there. They planned a great couple of days together, including heading further north to visit the Royal Air Force museum. I understand they also had the most amazing pizza in Nottingham! Again, who knew?!?

I walked to the venue, and met the Impact Stationery team. The booth looked great and really stood out!

The first morning was a bit of a learning curve. We didn’t have a groove yet, didn’t really have the “elevator pitch” explaining who the collective was, our mission, our journals.

But by the second day, we found a bit more of a rhythm. Saw what people were asking for, and had some good conversations.

We won’t really know the results for a few weeks, once orders start coming in (that is what I’m putting out to the universe!). But overall, it was a success!

And regardless of the orders, it was a big success for me.

I often move quickly through things like this. I don’t stop to acknowledge and celebrate.

Years and years of education, training, conferences, research. Thousands and thousands of therapy (and eventually coaching) sessions over 27 years. Groups, memberships, workshops, presentations, retreats, conference addresses, and hundreds of thousands of downloads of my podcast Building Resilience. And of course lived experience: personal traumas, divorce, single parenting, remarriage, blending families, raising kids, mental health, chronic illness, babies, kids, teens, young adults, building a business, burnout, compassion fatigue…

All culminating into 4 journals. My frameworks, created from evidence based practices, written with my heart and soul poured into them. Time, money, and belief all invested in them.

To see them all on display. Watching people pick them up, ask about them, compliment them.

I’m allowing myself to take it all in and feel it.

I’m allowing myself to feel the pride I’m sure my grandmother has. The pride my late father has too. He also had a passion for writing, and near the end of his life started doing more of it. Oh and my cheerleading mom, who is also following in her mother’s steps and writing her own stories.

But most importantly, I’m allowing myself to feel my own pride. To celebrate. To take a moment to show some gratitude to past me who took a chance, followed an intuitive nudge and stepped into this very unknown creator mode. And gratitude to present me who is taking one step at a time, even though it is scary, there are real tangible risks, and there are lots of unknowns.

We went out for dinner after the show to debrief, celebrate together and talk about the next show in New York in August (so stay tuned)!

London on Foot

Rob and I spent our last couple of days just walking the city. The South Bank along the Thames. The Tower of London. Tower Bridge. Southwark Cathedral. Borough Market, where we finally got fish and chips (and found a place called Afterschool Cookies that had yummy cookies for me to evaluate as the cookie connoisseur that I now am!).

We also headed over for scones at the Crypt Cafe, which is exactly what it sounds like, a cafe in a crypt, and it was lovely.

The next day, we walked a bit more, did some work, then headed to the train to Gatwick airport where we boarded a plane and flew to Split, Croatia. We landed in the pouring rain and took a taxi to our tiny, clean, very basic Airbnb.

A new chapter. Again.It certainly is a solid way to grow your capacity and gently challenge your nervous system in a good way:)

The In-Between

I’ve been thinking a lot about my grandmother this week. Not just because of London, but because of what she asked me to do.

She told me to write it all down. And I have been, in different ways and at different paces. But the part that is ready, the frameworks and tools I’ve built over 25 years, found its way into these journals.

Not a book. Not a blank page journal. The in-between.

And honestly, this whole trip has felt like an in-between.

Between who I was before we left and whoever I’m becoming through this. Between the structured life I know how to run and this slower, less certain pace. Between Portugal’s colours and warmth, London’s vibrancy but grey skies and now Croatia’s rain, and hope to see sunshine and beauty soon 🙂

My grandmother built a new life in a place that wasn’t hers yet. Now I’m certainly not comparing our “adventures in recalibration” or sabbatirement (as my friend referred to it) to fleeing pre-war Germany. But I do think there’s something she understood about starting over that I’m only beginning to feel.

You don’t have to have the whole story figured out to start writing it. Sometimes you just need to begin with the in-between.

And standing in that exhibition centre, watching people pick up MY journals, I kept thinking about that last conversation. About her hand on mine. About “you need to write this all down.”

She didn’t say write a bestseller. She didn’t say write it perfectly. She said write it down.

Four journals at a stationery show in the city where she rebuilt her life. I think she’d like that.

xoxo