“‘This is Diana—our family dropout,’ my mother said for the fifteenth Thanksgiving in a row, but when my sister’s new husband reached across the table to shake my hand, his grip locked, his face went still, and the room forgot how to laugh before he said the two words nobody there was prepared to hear”

tell you something I had to wait 15 years to hear in the right register.

The work you do in the direction of something true is not wasted.

It does not require permission.

It speaks even in rooms where no one is positioned to hear it yet.

And sometimes, not always, but sometimes the right person walks through the door at Thanksgiving carrying a serving continue reading …