“In the high heat of summer, things slow down a bit, and there is time to remember a few things you may have forgotten.” ~ Brian Andreas
Hello, old friends from long ago. It certainly has been a while.
I wasn’t sure if, or when, I might return to this space. But I also couldn’t quite close the door and let it go, just in case the day should ever come when we’d reconnect and start anew. And now, here I am, with some time on my hands and a few mid-summer thoughts.
It’s tempting to take a detour here into a personal update, but that would be another post altogether. And so, for now, a few quick health headlines will suffice. A breast cancer diagnosis in April put me on a road no woman ever chooses to walk. (And yet, as I discovered right away, this road is crowded with old and new friends, women who show up, hands extended in welcome, offering hope, kindness, advice, and companionship.) While having an MRI to assess the extent of my cancer, I lost consciousness, spent four days in the hospital for tests, and was found to have a hole in my heart that required repair (a PFO closure) before I could proceed with the breast surgery. The heart surgery had to be followed by a month of recovery and blood thinner medications. And then the blood thinners had to be entirely out of my system before I could finally have the breast surgery.
Two days before my lumpectomy on July 2, my dermatologist removed a dark spot on my leg. A week later, I learned I had melanoma. (Somehow, at that point, this diagnosis didn’t surprise me at all.) Because of the location – down low on my calf — my surgeon was unable to suture the wide excision required for clear melanoma margins; I simply didn’t have any extra skin for him to stitch. Nor did he think a skin graft would be successful.
He had no choice, he explained, but to leave me with a deep surgical wound, and that large wound would require me to stay off my feet, keep my leg elevated, and change the dressing every day for many weeks. And then the doctor put a kindly hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he said gently. “This is going to be your summer. And it’s not going to be easy.”
And so it is that I find myself recovering from three difficult surgeries in three months. Yeah, it’s been a lot.
There’s some good news, too. My heart is now whole. The breast tumor is gone, my lymph nodes were clear (two were removed), and the final lab report confirms I don’t need chemo. In three weeks I’ll begin radiation, followed by hormone treatment to help prevent a recurrence. I’m stretching through the lingering referred pain from the lumpectomry, re-learning how to reach my left arm above my head and how to put on a shirt. The melanoma is gone. I’m awaiting results from one more biopsy and, going forward, I’ll have a full body scan every three months for the rest of my life.
But this last surgery has been hard to come back from. The wound on my left leg is deep, wide, raw, and painful. For now, I spend much of the day lying on my back, with my leg propped up above my heart. Tomorrow I’ll begin a series of weekly placenta graft treatments meant to encourage healing. It will be a long road, a road I must travel by mostly staying put.
And so, I do have time to remember a few things.
I am remembering. . .
That a chaise lounge on a screened porch is a good place to spend a summer day.
I’m remembering that my grandmother never needed reminding. She spent her long-ago July afternoons stretched out in an old webbed lawn chair on her own small porch, ankles neatly crossed, size-five shoes always on her feet, a glass of sweet ice tea sweating on the table and a stack of McCall’s and Family Circle magazines at her side. As I think of her in my mind’s eye, I’m remembering she was probably younger than I am now,. I’m remembering that she seemed pretty old to me. I’m remembering that I have no memory of ever seeing my grandmother barefoot. I’m remembering she seemed content.
I’m remembering that reading a book with my head at the foot of the chaise, and my feet propped up on the back, makes me feel like a kid again. I remember I usually had a band-aid on my leg when I was ten, too.
I’m remembering what it’s like to start a novel in the morning and to stay up late reading the last pages after everyone else has gone to sleep. I’m remembering what it’s like to have nothing else to do but read on a hot summer day. I’m remembering that if I have a book, I’m never bored.
I’m remembering what an empty day on the calendar looks and feels like. I’m remembering how long an afternoon can be. I’m remembering what it’s like to have no place to go.
I’m remembering that I can turn down my own bed in the middle of the day and it will still feel like a special treat when I return to climb into it at night.
I’m remembering the sweet peace of sleeping alone in a quiet room with the windows opened wide. I’m remembering the cozy comfort of stuffed animals sent by far-away friends. I’m remembering one doesn’t always need words to say, “I’m here.”
I’m remembering coffee in bed is lovely way to start a day.
I’m remembering how nice it is to let someone take care of me.
I’m remembering what it feels like to move very slowly, putting one foot in front of the other. I’m remembering how to be gentle with myself.
I’m remembering that a gift of flowers arriving at the door feels like a miracle. I’m remembering that a bouquet can last a long time if I cut the stems and change the water every day and pluck out each blossom as it passes.
I’m remembering no one will die if the kitchen floor isn’t vacuumed.
I’m remembering that the light in the sky changes every minute. That clouds move from right to left. And they cast shadows. I’m remembering the me who watches and listens. I’m remembering that to spend a day looking out the window is not time wasted, it is time marked and honored. I’m remembering how to be.
I’m remembering I can ask for what I need.
I’m remembering that people want to be helpful. I’m remembering that help comes in all sorts of offerings. I’m remembering how to receive.
I’m remembering that a hand-written letter or a funny card in the mail with my name on it can be the high point of a day.
I’m remembering that gift certificates for take-out food are the best presents.
And that friends who bring dinner, or fresh-picked blueberries, or a new pair of pruning shears are also bringing love.
I’m remembering the simple pleasure of eating meals off a tray.
I’m remembering that at any given moment I can do what works. I can do what works for me.
I’m remembering I can leave my phone on silent even when I’m all alone. I can rest my mouth as well as my body. I’m remembering there is a kind of soul quiet required for healing, and that I can claim that quiet for myself.
I’m remembering that taking care of a wound is a little bit like taking care of a baby. Even when it’s not crying for attention, it’s always there, to be thought of and changed and attended to with clean hands.
I’m remembering that my body wants to heal. And I’m remembering that my body will never go back to how it used to feel or look or be. I’m remembering that even so, I’m all right. I’m remembering it’s ok to feel what I feel. And that grief for what’s lost is part of moving into what’s next.
I’m remembering that my body is on my side. That my job right now is to take care of this body with the utmost kindness. And to let the people who love me take care of everything else.
I’m remembering that some situations are temporary. I will not always have a wound on my leg or stitches under my arm. I’m remembering pain goes away. And I’m beginning to accept that some situations are here to stay. I will always be a cancer survivor. I’m remembering that tomorrow is not a guarantee. That today is a gift.
I’m remembering how much I love watching birds take baths. And bees going about their business. And afternoon light passing through flower petals. And chipmunks who aren’t shy at all.
I’m remembering that I love the way petunias spill out of their pots, the way cucumber vines wrap their tiny tendrils around anything nearby, and the way nasturtiums slowly make their way up the rusty old trellis. I’m remembering that things in nature just want to grow. I’m remembering the world can always astonish me with its beauty. And that all I ever have to do is look. I’m remembering the smell of the garden after rain, and the way robins sing at dusk, as if calling the darkness down.
I’m remembering that choosing to be happy here, now, is still a thing I can do for myself.
Note: The quote from Brian Andreas arrived in my in-box the day of my melanoma surgery. His words guided me into this new place of enforced stillness. My guess is you’d love the work produced by Brian and Fia as much as I do — cards, calendars, art, and gentle daily offerings. You can find them here.
I am remembering, with you, and I am thinking of you every day, dear friend. I often stop and imagine you up there in that beautiful place—looking, listening, dreaming, reading, willing that wound to heal. xoxo
Katrina-
How wonderful to read your writings after so long yet I am sorry of all you are going through and wish you healing and peace and joy as you recover.
Your patience, resilience and positivity are inspiring .
Over many years, you have brought me ( and many people), comfort and wisdom, gratitude and joy and I
thank you.
Blessings to you and take care
Ann
what a gift you are! Thank you for letting us know what is happening with you. You are a true gem.
Lovingly, Katha
When your name popped up in my inbox I smiled and was so happy to see you’re still around. And oh how sorry I am for your challenges! But your voice still has the same beautiful quality of being a witness to the world with-in and with-out. Blessings on your healing journey and may you be carried along by loving support.
You’ve shared a beautiful ode to Self Care and Self Honoring. Thank you for that. Sometimes I forget what that can look like. Be Well. Be Whole. Be Comfortable Again Soon.
XO
Ruth
I am sorry to hear this news Katrina. Rotten really. I know you’re working to keep your spirits up, and yet, don’t forget that it’s ok to feel it all. Is there anything I can do for you? I’m not far away, as you know.
Sending you good wishes for healing and patience to allow it to happen. My Irish Grandfather would say, “I am sorry for your troubles!” This certainly was a cascade of bad news.
All the best, Maureen
Oh my goodness my sweet friend. You don’t know we are friends but we are. In fact, I was just listening to you today in one of your audio books. Your summer sounds like my last summer. Only it was lung and diaphragm surgery and then Covid. I remember being grateful for being able to walk around the block and finally sleeping in the same bed as my husband and eating watermelon for breakfast. Even though I’m so sorry you are going through this, I’m so grateful you reached out today. I needed to remember that I need to remember! Thank you for this.
Welcome back. I have missed your messages so much. I just want you to know that I was diagnosed with Stage III ovarian cancer in 1986 when I was 46. In 2026 I will be a 40 year survivor. Each birthday, and each new day, is a celebration!
Thank you, Katrina, for sharing all of this pain and beauty, grief and gratitude. It was so nice to see your name in my email today. Your writing first touched my heart long ago when we both were raising teenagers. Thank you for sharing your beautiful writing. I wish you well on this life journey.
So brilliant, and relatable. What a beautiful gift you’ve provided; thank you most sincerely with our promise to share with others.
Heartfelt gratitude and respect.
I am remembering your clear, beautiful voice. I am remembering that the value of experience shared is a bridge between hearts. I am remembering the profound beauty in the ordinary. I am remembering how much I have missed your gentle wisdom. Thank you, Katrina, for helping me to remember.
At first, I was thrilled to see an email with your name but as I read on the thrill left me. I remember reading everything you had written, online or in books and I know what an active woman you’ve always been. I believe you have a positive way of seeing things and what you are experiencing is temporary because you will do all that you can to return to the active life you have enjoyed! I’ll be thinking of you and looking forward to updates as you get better and stronger! Although we have never met I think of you as a friend! ❤️🩹
Thank you for this gift of a post. I have been worrying about you and am sorry to hear about the melanoma but happy to hear you are recovering. Your way of describing your experiences and your joy in the natural beauty of the world always make me take a deep breath and let go of the anxiety I’m holding. I am grateful for your words.
As always and especially now, your post and reflection is a gift to the community surrounding you…near and far. Thank you from this long time fan and follower. Sending blessings of health, love and support.
Thank you Katrina for your inspiring words and how you see beauty among the challenges in life. I wish you all the best in your recovery.
Katrina, What joy to see that you had written a passage for all of us who enjoy you in this world so very much. Even in a time where you have needed much comfort for yourself your writing has provided comfort right back to us once again. Thank you for you, for this gift and the gift of your words. Bless you..
Dear Katrina,
I wish you the best, it will be fine.
I know you have a network of friends who support you.
I also went through this process last year – follicular lymphoma – I’m still undergoing treatment.
At first, it hurts to hear the word cancer, then we want to treat it, but nothing is the same after that.
It’s okay to have all the emotions/feelings, everything is okay.
God bless you.
And whenever you feel like it, don’t forget to “talk” to us; I’ve been following you for so many years.
A big hug from Portugal.
Helena Antunes
Welcome back! You have been missed.
You have so much strength. Keep up the good work
Oh, Katrina. What a journey you have been on this year. You are resilient and getting stronger by the day, and I am grateful to hear this.
And, as you are so gifted with words and rhythm and feeling and gentleness and strength, you express it all so beautifully. I was in tears, reading the balm of your words. Thank you for the update. It could not have been easy, putting your most private things out in public.
Sending you wishes of continued courage, precious healing, gentle surrender, and deep gratitude for the things that surround you and your soul. You are a gift to me, and I appreciate you.
Dear Katrina
God has his plan to slow us down, you may have new vision for your next novel, and you’ve walked the walk through experience and your journey of personal research!
I was blessed and honored to have had a 34 year career as a medical oncology receptionist/secretary!
Many people would question my blessings as in “their” opinion I was travailing in a very sad field of medicine.
My facts were it was a spiritual ministry!
My phone call was the first voice my patients heard to set up a consultation with our oncologist staff, after receiving a call from the surgical team!
My sincere offer of an appointment asap, in my humble opinion, to alleviate any lingering concerns about treatment planning.
Most often the patients concerns was “is he/she a good Dr? In all candor, my personal opinion, I couldn’t work with another human whom was not genuinely interested in the positive aspects of medical science and keen minds go along with kind hearts, compassionate care and medical staffing becoming your family, to care for “all of you!”
I also became an insurance warrior, dedicated to your financial support, as you’ve learned, medical miracles are costly and my role as a liaison between your Dr and insurance providers were utmost important in treatment planning!
My field of expertise, I was a high school graduate, came into the medical profession with an entry level pay and worked 24 years for NYOH in upstate NY, often working alone at several satellite offices, with 1 oncologist with an oncology RN.
When I left this practice of scheduling all aspects of oncology from chemotherapy, additional surgeries or CT/Pet Scannings, I was offered a new facility of care by working at a nearby hospital Radiation Department!!
I was amazed by the quality of education in this practice of medicine treatment planning!
I worked in conjunction with highly trained physicians and what I learned most of all?
Is when questioned what I did for a living?
I may often hear “oh you’re just a receptionist?”
I will be clear about this description!
I was blessed to be included in our once a week round table discussions with our colleagues of oncologist, physicist, dosemitrists, therapists and ONC,RNs!!
I was “the A team!”
I received countless thank you cards right along with our medical staff, assuring me, how important an angel I was from the first phone call, to our first encounter!!
God bless your trajectory in the pathways of medical oncology and I send my deepest tender hugs and prayers for your recovery and your family along with your medical team!
Sincerely in peace
Robin Piliere
Thank you for returning to this space of yours. Even though we talk every day, I will always love reading what you write. You’ve certainly been through much these last few months, but you’re still YOU: fiercely present, tender, perceptive. This beautiful post proves it. You’re doing what so few people allow themselves to do as you sit in the more challenging moments while still remembering what’s good. I love you.
You have always been a wise teacher for me through your writing and today as I read your update, this remains true. I pray for healing and the patience it takes to do it well (as you are). Thank you for this gift in my inbox this morning.
I cannot imagine all that you have been through. I wish you a speedy recovery with lots of love & support. Despite all your terrible news, It is so good to find your amazing words in my mailbox again. I hope you will continue writing. You’ve been missed.
Well, I, for one, am glad that you didn’t close down this space. Too many people are quietly slipping off stage these days, leaving me wondering if their exit is permanent. I’m thankful that you HAVE returned, have been able to return, and with your Katrina-esque ramblings that always leave me smiling. Sending prayers up to my God Who Heals. May His power and presence settle in around you. Love you, my friend, whom I’ve never met!
I’m so sorry for all you’re going through. Thanks so much for these timely reminders.
Welcome back, Katrina! Your voice and reflections have been missed. Although life has presented you with dark gifts, you have managed to see their beauty through it all with grace, observance, and deep meaning. ❤️
I am remembering how much your writing has always affected my life in a positive way. I have missed your posts…and you. You have blessed my life in so many ways. I hope for a gentle recovery for you. You are in my heart and in my prayers. Thank you.
Dear Katrina,
YOUR heart has always been whole. It’s just had a spot of kintsugi.
Your whole body is having some kintsugi and is thus more precious and cherished than it was before.
Heal and be well.
Christine
Welcome back. Your summer of 2025 makes me remember my fall of 2013 when I dealt with my own multiple health scares. The best medicine was (and is) is always gratitude and slowing down. Glad you’re on the recovery road and taking time to enjoy journey.
Dearest Katrina~ your message in my inbox was the most loveliest surprise & a heartfelt way to begin my day. We connected a couple of years ago, as I shared with you the grief I was navigating having lost my Mother, one of your biggest fans, unexpectedly. And as I inherited her treasure trove of her most precious items, nearly all books, yours were some of her most beloved. In time they’ve become mine. And now she speaks to me through books. As I read your words today I am overwhelmed by both the gifts & pain this life has to offer. I am saddened by the trials you’ve been forced to navigate, yet deeply grateful for the life you’re continuing to embrace & the many years of life ahead you’ve been gifted with the good news that followed the bad news you received. I’ll be thinking of you, your slow summer & praying for a complete healing. And today I will walk a few extra miles for you! Xoxo
I’m so sorry all of this has come to you. Thank you, Katrina, for sharing with us. It’s such a gift to see how you find the good in what’s happening. I am blessed to have come upon this one week before my mastectomy. It’s inspiring for sure.
Katrina it was so good to hear from you today Your books Magical Journey and The Gift of an Ordinary Day have been read and reread by me many times these last few years, each time bringing me a moment of peace and serenity. Your writing is exquisite and I truly missed hearing from you since your last post. I live in Hooksett and always wished that I lived closer to you and that some day I might run into you somewhere…. In any case I consider you my book friend and send you much love and healing energy. Blessings to you and your loved ones💗💗💗🌄🌄🌄🙏🙏🙏
Hi Katrina! What beautiful words you find in the midst of a storm. It was so wonderful to see you in my inbox this morning but heartbreaking to hear of what you’re going through. Take good care and good things will come out of such hard times. This too shall pass. I hope to see you around in my inbox more.
Borrowing the words of others far more eloquent than I could ever be…
“May you be filled with loving kindness.
May you be well in mind and body.
May you be safe from harm, both from within and without.
And may you be truly happy.”
Adrift
by Mark Nepo
Everything is beautiful and I am so sad.
This is how the heart makes a duet of
wonder and grief. The light spraying
through the lace of the fern is as delicate
as the fibers of memory forming their web
around the knot in my throat. The breeze
makes the birds move from branch to branch
as this ache makes me look for those I’ve lost
in the next room, in the next song, in the laugh
of the next stranger. In the very center, under
it all, what we have that no one can take
away and all that we’ve lost face each other.
It is there that I’m adrift, feeling punctured
by a holiness that exists inside everything.
I am so sad and everything is beautiful.
🙏 of 💜
Jay
I have been reading your posts since my children were babies and now they are teens. I appreciate your quiet wisdom, your humbleness and your love for the present. I am so very sorry that you are going through this pain but you are the type of person that will be even stronger because of it. You will continue to shed your light and be a ray of sunshine for everyone. I have always appreciated you. I have never taken the time to tell you. Today I am remembering to do so.
Oh, it was so lovely to see your name in my inbox this morning. Yes, it has been a moment since you wrote to us. Your words are all still you, even in the wild and challenging times you’ve been in. I’m holding onto these words as I am dealing with a couple running injuries and a new diagnosis of osteoporosis (at 49 years of age). I’m so grateful for your sharing of your remembrances. It is helpful to know there are always things around us to be grateful for. Wishing you continued support, healing and appreciations.
Thank you for observing life so keenly and sharing it with us once more. No one holds the tension of being human and all its pain and beauty quite like you do. May your body continue to rest and heal in the now and not yet.
Your writing is so beautiful it was delightful to see your name pop up again after a long absence. Please know how sorry I was to read about your health issues which sound overwhelming yet you are moving toward new beginnings. It’s true as we age we can’t go back to the way we were and your post is so inspiring that regard. May you continue a journey to better health. Your gift to your readers is so appreciated that you make a big difference Katrina. Thank you and I hope s as bouquet
of flowers arrives soon and have written notes too.
Was so happy to see a note from you in my inbox, and so very sorry to read of your challenges. My husband was recently diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, “luckily” stage 1. Surgery was successful in removing it but we now face 6 months of chemo. The things you shared in this piece will help me, and help he and I get the most out of life as we navigate his treatment. Sending you prayers for healing and comfort.
Katrina, this post was very meaningful to me, not only because of your wise and beautiful voice (I have loved your writing since Mitten Strings For God helped me navigate young motherhood), but because I am a cancer survivor too. The bolt out of the blue diagnosis that forces you to take stock in a big way. You are finding your way with a huge dollop of acceptance and GRATITUDE. That is how I coped, and why you will ultimately succeed in your recovery and move on to find joy in your new “normal.”
I wish you health and rest and love every day as you heal, my friend.
You are a beautiful human, Katrina. Thank you for letting us in. You are in my thoughts and prayers. I am remembering right along with you.
Oh Katrina, how I have missed the music and wisdom in your words. I wish you the very best in your healing journey. You never fail to inspire me, and your challenges, and the dignity with which you face them, continue to help me grow. Thank you, and be well.
It was such a delight to see your name in my inbox this morning, and to read your words again. Even in pain, struggle, hardship–you manage to find light and solace in the small beauties of this world. Sending you so much love along your way.
Your writing, even though filled with medical issues and health setbacks, is absolutely beautiful and so wonderfully received, even if the news being shared is so heartbreaking. I wish you a quiet steady recovery. May you continue to receive care and comfort as you rest and recuperate. Know that your words, regardless of how much time has passed, are always welcomed and savored.
Thank you for your words, your honest sharing, your inspiration to remember the preciousness around us always. Your words always challenge me To BE, to honor the slowness, to feel, to love.
Many blessings and strength to you as you continue to heal.
Katrina,
I was so thrilled to see your name in my inbox — and so sorry to hear about your health issues. I remember the pain after my shoulder surgery. It’s such an isolating thing to be in pain and have to face the steady, relentless thrum of it with no escape. As always I am in awe of your ability to see the positive and to keep an open heart. I would say that any one of these health issues would be so, so difficult, and here you are, gracefully facing all at once. I am sending you so much love. Thank you for your generosity of heart and continuing to bless us with your gorgeous words, even as you are doing the hard work of healing. xoxoxoxo
And just like E.T. You’re back! Was thinking about you as I crafted porcelain heart ornaments. Now I know why! So glad you are on the rebound however slow it feels. This to will pass. I just turned eighty this Spring and don’t know where all those years went. Luckily I’m fit and agile so I can take care of my menagerie of animals with just a bit of outside help. I just saw a quote that I like today. Gratitude is attitude! And look at all the peeps that are glad you returned! 🤗👏👏👏👏👏
Oh Katrina I am over the moon thrilled to have received and read this beautiful piece. I adore your writing, reflections, and the deep appreciation of life. I have sure missed you. As a retired nurse, I can sure appreciate the magnitude of the health journey you have been, and are on. Sending lots of love and virtual support. Please keep writing to us. Seeing your name in my inbox makes my day. Blessings.
Katrina,
So sorry to hear all you have been through! I came across one of your books the other day and wondered about you. As usual, you handle life’s challenges with grace and wisdom. Thanks for taking the time to write. I wish health and healing for you!
I wondered about you, dear Katrina, when the angels put your name in my heart the other day. Wonder was answered in this mail today and now prayers go to you via the angels who are surrounding your journey to health. Whatever is true and beautiful is in your heart and soul as you live life as it is.
Blessings day by day, inch by inch, step by step by step – all the way, dear, dear Katrina.
Katrina, i was thinking about you just the other day and thinking how I had missed your messages. Thank you for letting your readers know what has been going on with you. It’s a lot. Bless your heart. Sending prayers your way for continued healing.🙏 I paraphrase your long ago friend Olive Ann when I write I hope these replies will “happy up” your day!
well, fuck!
that’s actually twice as many words as the card i got not too long after half my lung was removed, and the verdict was cancer. and i laughed out loud at the single solitary expletive that captured it all. (that it came from the last person i expected such a note to come from made me laugh till my sides almost split — literally, stitches were raw….) this indeed is a damn road that wishes for NO fellow travelers, and yet it is too, too crowded. the triple whammy pretty much sucks. and i am soo sooo sorry you’ve gotten pummeled from all sides.
thank god for clear margins. thank god for friends who can’t do enough, and yet also understand how important it is to be blanketed in long hours of silence. and solitude. and the most necessary deep thoughts that are all part of stitching ourselves back to stronger than ever.
sending grace. and quiet. and strength.
Oh, how I have missed your beautiful writing. I’m sorry to have you on the path with me, I was diagnosed a year ago. The entire year has been spent with surgery, chemo, radiation, and now years of hormone therapy. It. Was a hard year, my husband was also in treatment with a targeted therapy for his blood cancer, our days were often around who felt well enough to open a can of soup! This beautiful piece that you have sent out means so much to me. I am so grateful to you for sharing your thoughts. It came, as things so often do, at just the right time. I wish you continued healing as the days go on and joy in the little things we are gifted when we are forced by illness to slow down and pay attention to all the small thing that bring us joy. Thank you for bringing me joy today. I will carry in in my heart, Marlene
Thank you for your rememberings…life passes us by so quickly it is easy to forget what we know/knew and love/loved…
And all we have is this moment and you have made my moment better.
What a gift, to open the notification that you had a new post. Your writing has taken me through every stage of motherhood. I am sending you love and healing
Katrina, so so happy you are back with all your beautiful words for all of us. You have been so missed.
Affectionately,
Shannon Phelps
I’m in my 60s. I have a foster baby asleep for a limited number of minutes and friends coming for dinner soon to celebrate two birthdays and still I sat down and read your email from start to finish because it’s always worth it. Because you feel like a friend for all the things you’ve taught me with your writing. Because I’ve been wondering where you’ve been. Because you always make me feel grateful for life and that’s always worth putting everything else aside for a moment. Thank you and heal well. 💛
Thank you for reaching out and sharing with us. I’ve missed your writing and once again, your message comes at just the right time. Sending healing thoughts and peace your way.
Beautiful Words. I’m so sorry for all that you’re going through. Praying for strength and comfort for you.
So glad to hear from you. I’ve thought of you several times, suspecting that family, health, or life in general, had taken a turn. So glad you have found the keyboard and connected with those of us who resonate with your wordsmithing. It sounds as though you are on a good track for recovery, taking care of yourself as you should. God bless you, and thanks for thinking of us in your affirming words of self-care and positivity. Hugs, Bobbie
So glad to hear from you. I’ve thought of you several times, suspecting that family, health, or life in general, had taken a turn. So glad you have found the keyboard and connected with those of us who resonate with your wordsmithing. It sounds as though you are on a good track for recovery, taking care of yourself as you should. God bless you, and thanks for thinking of us in your affirming words of self-care and positivity. Hugs, Bobbie
Katrina when I saw your name I broke my rule about peeking at late evening emails. My goodness, what an adventure. If you have not read (surely you have) Rumi’s poem “The Guest House”…you may find that it fits into your recent life challenges. Your stories years past were valuable in my life and lives of friends with whom I shared your family’s tales and I continue to thank you for those and your continued generosity. Wishing you comfort in body, mind and Spirit. Carol
I am sorry you have had a rash of medical discoveries and procedures. To hear words like “cancer”, “melanoma “ and heart surgery in such a short time is like being tumbled by waves at the waters edge. Your feet search for solid ground while another wave knocks you over. Sounds like you have crawled out of the surf and are catching your breath now.
Healing takes as long as it takes. Be good to yourself!
I just said a prayer for you!! Your writing continues to inspire me. Thank you for making a difference in my life as I continue to be thankful for the gift of an ordinary day. May you find many ordinary days of peace and strength and healing in the coming days and months. Sending lots of love!❤️
Nice to read your words again! What lovely memories for yourself which sparked some in me. I hope you feel better soon with lots of patience, rest and sunshine.
Sending extra love and prayers your way ! Thank you for picking up your pen during these difficult mo the and trials! I have always loved your writing, your beautiful ability to see the Gift of an Ordinary Day or the journey in contentment ! What a gift you share w so many of us !! Blessings for you and your healing summer 💞🙏💞
Your words continue to inspire. Sending strength and healing thoughts for a healthy recovery.
It’s funny, life. Your words lifted and inspired me when I was a young mom, when I was a mom of teens, an “empty nester,” and now as a 50 something mom and grandma. Your writing has always spoken to my soul. Your words in this essay, of finding happiness and light in trials and hard times, did it to me once again. Bless you for sharing your words and your heart with us. And prayers for your healing journey.
How good to see this post in my inbox. These are things we all need to remember and you’ve given it to us. I hope the days you pass while waiting for the leg to heal continue to feed your writing. But only if it gives you what you need. I wish you well every step of the way.
Bathing you in love from afar! Thank you for responding to whatever circumstances life throws at you by creating connection through your beautiful words. Though we’ve never met, you’ve felt like a dear friend to me ever since I read Mitten Strings for God oh so many years ago. You have blessed so many of us through your heartfelt sharing over the years. Thank you. Sending so much appreciation and healing energy your way!
I always say the Cancer Club is a club no one wants to join but has the loveliest members. You put it much more poetically.
I am glad to hear you are stretching your arms. I was unaware of the risk of cording and had no idea lymphedema could show up in my breast! I would up with a good bit of shoulder pain and reduced movement in that shoulder. But after PT range of motion has returned and the lymphedema is under control and remains limited to my breast. I don’t mind being lopsided. I am sorry all your health issues have cascaded at once. No fair! But I hope this season passes and sunnier days are ahead, even if they are winter days. Be well!
It was great to hear from you again, even though your medical news was not what one wants to experience. Hang in there, be patient and know tomorrow is a new day.
I too had breast cancer twice many years ago and I am now 78.
The best to you as you move forward to a healthy future.
I first learned of your writing last summer when I spotted your book “The Gift of an Ordinary Day” in a book store in Canada. Something drew me to your book and when I read it, I felt connected with you. I went on to read “Magical Journey” and again, felt that connection. My own sons are teens and finding their own new path. Thank-you for the new gift of this essay filled with gratitude and wonder that can be found when we look for them and remind ourselves, sometimes with difficulty, they are present. I wish for you a swift recovery. You are a treasure!
Thank you Katrina for sharing your life, with its truths in a gentle way and with openness to the beauty within you and around you. Your writing gives hope because while we all age and have various challenges with our health, you show resiliency and acceptance which inspires. May your experiences and healing process give light to your readers and circle of friends and acquaintances far and wide ❤️🩹
Sandra
oh my dear katrina, thank you for writing again, even with the great challenge of wondering “how do i share all this hard news.” what a time you have had.
the so many things you have written about remembering feel a valuable and necessary reminder, both for times that are challenging and for times of blessing.
how nourishing your writing is and has always been.
may you have all the grace and courage and energy that you need for these days. may you know your owns strength and resilience. may you continue to develop your skill at claiming necessary rest.
thank you for your willingness to share your journey with us.
Thank you for reconnecting. Your words inspire me, and I admire your strength. Wishing you peace.
Thank you for your inspiring words about healing and gratitude. I lost my home in the Los Angeles fires and have relocated to a new temporary home for likely two+ years, and my community is decimated. Still there is a lot to be grateful for and we are embracing this new adventure. Your last sentence said it best – I’m remembering that choosing to be happy here, now, is still a thing I can do for myself. I could not have said it better. Happy Healing, Katrina.
Katrina, thanks for sending out this beautiful posting. I am very sorry you have been faced with so many health issues this year. Hope each day brings more healing. You are in my heart and very loved.
Mary Ann
Because you had lymph nodes removed, keep an eye out for lymphedema.it can be managed, if caught early.
I am sorry for all of you health challenges, but I am so grateful to read your words once again.
Dear Katrina,
I am the women who told you in the Manchester Airport at the baggage claim that I owned and loved all of your books. I am sorry I didn’t give you a chance to reply, but I didn’t want to bother you after a long day of travel. I have been dealing with ovarian cancer since 2019, it is treatable but not curable. Your books and blogs have given me comfort over the years. My favorite phrase of yours that I recite often and share with others is “Life is joy in one hand and sorrow in the other.” I hope this thought comes to you during this time, as well. The news about your cancer results are excellent, I am sorry you have to endure the pain of your melanoma surgery, but this too will heal in time. I love this recent post of yours, I will read and re-read it as I go through this next round of chemotherapy. I wish you all the best.
Kris
I’m so sorry to hear of your ordeals upon ordeals, Katrina. But your beautiful observations are a gift, not only to you, but to those of us around the world for whom you’ve opened the portal to appreciating the ordinary around us. This is Katrina Kenison at her best!
Heal well, and thank you for reminding me (again) of what matters.
Was it really 2 years ago this month when you and Ann Patchett delighted the audience in NH with behind the scenes stories about your friendship and introduced us to Tom Lake?
I am crushed at the triple whammy you have endured. So much at once, hardly time to process and heal.
However, reaching out, remembering and sharing is one very powerful tool that can help. I hope the community that you built here has helped to buoy your spirits.
Continue to find moments of Awe as you recover. XO