Delight

Amy Oledzki on May 5, 2025

Every part of the spring season can be a delightful scene dancing in front of us. The new growth is there for the taking, everywhere, watching the results of the softened earth from the melting snow and spring rains. The season beckons a positive emotional response, but when sadness or grief is present, finding the space to bloom can feel like the remaining late frost of the winter, stunting any sign of delight.

Our focus for the month is delight. Delight is defined as “a high degree of pleasure, satisfaction, or joy.” Pleasure or joy when caring for a child with a terminal illness or a medically complex condition can feel like the remaining chilly winter air rushing in from time to time. Finding any delight with this much heaviness are unwanted and unpleasant feelings that intertwine with every moment of care given. The idea of delight may feel distant, even impossible, when exhaustion, sorrow, and worry take up so much space.

While I may not know or understand your pain, I can find lessons in nature that may help. The beauty of spring can resemble grand delight, especially after the baren winter season. The flowering magnolia, the pink of the quince flowers, and the white blossoms of the cherry trees at Hope Grows feel welcoming. However, when we focus on any delight in this space of grief and sadness, it may feel a bit too grand, so we push it aside and continue with the heaviness, feeling cheated out of any delight it can bring.

Where can we nourish and savor moments of delight? At Hope Grows, we have been blessed to be a part of many caregiver stories, sometimes receiving more than we give. In addition to providing support, we engage in the message of the mission, inspiring hope through nature while empowering wellness of mind, body, and spirit. The nature part of the mission teaches about the reciprocal benefits: while nature gives, we receive. This is where true connection, not just in nature, but in our relationships with our care receivers occur. We must be open to not just the giving of care, but the receiving of it as well.

Gardening in spring is challenging. As we pay attention to the changing weather, we find a need to protect the new growth and the blossoms as best we can. We may consider covering the flowering trees as best we can when the night air may be too cold. Our instinct is to protect. I remember a few years ago covering the viburnum tree in the Garden of Hope during a cold snap. The effort and the time it took helped a little to protect the blossoms, but in the end, the decision moving forward was “not to bother again” and let nature takes its course. The message here is that we tried and we can look at our own well-being in this way. Now tending to our own self-care is a bit different than covering a small tree; however, the difficulty of finding the time, protecting, and placing value is real. Cultivating wellness of self may feel like a grand plan that defeats us before we begin, but the key here is to start small.

Spring is so special, and so are you. As the season pulls us out of the deepness of winter, we begin to find small moments of new growth finding the sun and protecting itself during fragile moments. We too can find space in the heaviness of caring for a child with a terminal illness or medically complex condition. One caregiver comes to mind, standing out as someone who looks at the cold rush of winter’s air, and instead of hindering any delight, experiences delightful moments in small ways. Noticing how her child’s eyes light up from a familiar voice, the comfort received from a shared touch, and the quiet presence of love that exists beyond words. I find the spirituality and faith of this caregiver worthy of delight. She was able to engage little by little with Hope Grows services and then eventually an overnight stay at the Iris Respite House. She found quiet space where beauty, love, and presence exist, despite the rush of chilly air in her changing climate.

In this experience, I believe the message for delight is to capture the good, not the bad. Moments of grace do not remove the sorrow, but they offer a breath within it. Try to find grace in the way your child’s hand feels in yours, in the rhythm of their breathing as they rest, in the way light filters through the window onto their face. Or it might be in the kindness of a nurse who truly sees you, in a deep inhale of fresh air when you step outside, in the way a favorite scent or texture momentarily eases the tension in your body. Another small moment is allowing yourself time to breath, leaning into support, or acknowledging the depth of what you carry.

Capturing the good does not mean pretending the bad is not there. It means allowing the small, good moments to matter—to be noticed, to be felt, even if just for a few seconds. Maybe write them down in a notebook, whisper them in gratitude before bed, or simply let yourself linger in them when they happen. Just as in nature, capture the spring blossoms in small moments of delight. While the chilly air is real, I suggest choosing to notice the beauty in front of you. As fleeting as it might be, “nature is one place we can surrender all control.”

Tending to your own well-being in this space might look different than it does for others. It is not about forcing joy but recognizing that even in sorrow, there can be moments of grace. Those moments, however small, can feel like life is whispering to you. Start with “just 10 minutes” at a time – such an honest, raw way to frame pleasant moments – because when life is this heavy, sometimes that is all you can hold, “just 10 minutes.” Grace makes room for delight—not as something forced or artificial, but as something quiet and real.

Connect in the delight of the reciprocal relationship!

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Founder & Clinical Director

Breathe

Amy Oledzki on February 5, 2025

The month of February seems to lend itself to moments of deep breathing. Research shows that mindful deep breathing practices elicit balance and transform stress into peace. James Nestor, the author of “Breath” writes about the new science around the lost art of breathing. I truly find the book fascinating and worthy of the reading time. His research shows that no matter what we eat, what our body size, the exercise we accomplish, and/or our age, none of it matters if we do not breathe properly.

Inhaling and exhaling of breath is something we do instinctually about 25,000 times a day. James goes on to say in his book that humans have lost the ability to breathe correctly, partly due to the bone structure of our skull being smaller in size than our historic ancestors. In the book, I found the studies of implementing different methods of breathing intriguing, especially the studies with athletes.

The athlete studies resulted in better stamina and exertion during high performance sports when proper breathing techniques were applied. I bought a second copy of James Nestor’s book for my oldest grandson, an exceptional athlete, so that he can learn how to apply breathing techniques. He took it to heart, learned and applied it. I can always tell when he applies the breathing techniques, evidenced by his athletic performance and the color of the redness of his face.  

On another note of moments of needing deep breaths, I ended the month of January celebrating and honoring the life of two people. One at the age of 80 and the other at the age of 38. Both shocking nonetheless, both deaths took my breath away. As a licensed counselor and certified thanatologist specializing in grief and loss, I know that when the initial news of a loss is heard, one of our first responses is to try and make sense of the death, evidenced by the question, “how did the person die?” We then begin to reflect on the person’s life and what the person meant to us. In most cases, we attend a service where friends and family gather to provide a community of support and an exchange of sharing and love. With these two recent deaths, shock and confusion were the common reaction due to the nature of the death: one being from a fall and the other from suicide, respectively. Deep breaths were definitely needed as we honored and memorialized them both.

In moments of stress, we either hold our breath or shallow breathe. The transition of breathing properly resumes eventually with a big deep breath inhaled. I relate this transition of breath with winter stillness; it is in that transition of breath that we can find calm and peace, even when we’re yearning for something else.

This transition reminds me of a word I recently learned, Gluggavedur! It is an Icelandic word meaning “window-weather,” which refers to the sort of weather best observed from your window. If we think about watching a storm from the warmth and safety of inside our home, we transition from the severity of the storm to the calm feeling of being protected from it.

As grief hits us unexpectedly, like the unwanted groundhog in the garden, we can apply the practice of window-weather. This mindful way of thinking about grief as an unwanted storm puts a safe distance from it. From this safe distance, the emotion is viewed more objectively, creating a calmer and clearer mind. This helps us to observe the pain and sadness as it rises and falls, feeling protected at the same time.

So, the next time the high stakes of emotions surface, remember the phrase Gluggavedur and, since the groundhog saw its shadow and predicts six more weeks of winter, think about transitioning to “window-weather” to help with the Ying and Yang of the weather and the onset of cabin fever.

And finally, think about the relatable practice of essential oils and symbolism of flowers. Roman Chamomile, the essential oil pick, is known for its calming and soothing properties, making it an excellent companion for February’s focus. It lends itself to an invitation for “window-weather” as it invites moments for pausing, breathing, and embracing stillness. The flower pick, Boston Fern, is a lush, vibrant plant that symbolizes purity, renewal, and vitality. Even in the stillness of emotion, grief, or winter, the act of taking moments to breathe lies in its role as both a natural air purifier and a symbol of life. 

Until the winds blow in March, Happy Window-Weather!

Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Founder & Clinical Director

Be Present | Being an Opportunist

Amy Oledzki on November 4, 2024

If only we could be in the moment or be present all the time; better yet, take advantage of opportunities that we are given. I don’t know how many times (most likely quite a few) I’ve missed seizing the moment – I’m sure, at the time, all for good reason. I can remember NOT heeding the moment to exercise, answering a friend’s call, ending my work day on time, taking “just 10 minutes” to meditate, breathe or just relax, or, my favorite, go outside in nature for a walk.

It is completely valid to feel frustrated when we don’t seize the moment. We mentally surrender to a place of allowing ourselves to feel badly about it. Then a cyclical pattern of self-loathing occurs, stifling another chance to engage in some other opportunity. GEEZ! What the heck!

Why do we let this happen? Why can’t we just accept that it is “okay” that we missed an opportunity and move on? I think some days it’s easier than others, but when it is difficult, what can we do?

ACCEPTANCE is one way. When we accept, we can appreciate the moment or take advantage of the mindful opportunities presented to us daily. In doing this, it creates a state of awareness that helps us recognize opportunities as they arise. As an example: being present in a conversation might help us notice a potential collaboration or a new idea, thus having the two sides of the conversation complement each other when balanced effectively.

It’s too bad our politicians can’t seem to do this. What a great way to take advantage of bipartisan work: finding common ground through collaborative communication and compromise, for the people. Sorry to bring politics into this, but we are approaching election day and I know that it is weighing on everyone’s mind.

I still ponder the reason acceptance is difficult. Maybe it is because of the confusable similar pronunciation of the word of except, which actually means to exclude. Nonetheless, acceptance is needed to take advantage of opportunities, such as choosing to express appreciation for the people in your life. Another example is being an opportunist on thankfulness with those you cross paths with as you shop, pray, and interact within your community. Another one is taking advantage of the few sunny, warm days we have left this fall season.

While these few things may seem easy in seizing the day, there are harder ones to consider. The election outcome may be a bit harder, as one side of the aisle is going to have to get to a place of acceptance. There are other ones that are bit more difficult and strenuous, such as losing someone to death. Loss of a loved one is at the top of the most painful and emotionally charged events. Acceptance is key.

Accepting the reality of someone’s death is difficult? All for good reason! DENIAL. It creeps in and grows like a bad weed. Denial is a defense mechanism. We often hear the words, “I just can’t believe he/she died.” Denial is there to protect our mental and emotional self from pain. While protecting ourselves might appear a good thing (after all, no one wants to feel pain), it ends up prolonging the deep pain of our loss.

Applying acceptance from a more fundamental approach may be what is needed. This approach is Radical Acceptance. It can be defined as the ability to accept situations that are out of our control without judgment. Seriously? What is the benefit in doing this? Well, our pain and suffering can be reduced. If we can accept the reality of the situation and not ruminate over the emotional reaction to it, we can begin to look at seizing other opportunities much quicker.

The opportunity of radically accepting the death of a loved one helps us to evolve in life and find joy in the small things again. This is hard, I know, but keep in mind that by not judging the situation does not mean that we are approving of it.

The emotional reaction to my dad’s death was intense and painful, and I didn’t approve of losing him. I just didn’t dwell on the emotion of it for long periods of time. I’ll be the first to admit that with grief came a lot of evaluating of my life and the processing of the pain was emotional and necessary to get to the healing. Also, just because there was deep pain didn’t mean that I didn’t accept. It would be like walking through rain and not expecting to get wet. You have to accept that you are going to get wet and then go through it to get to a place of feeling protected. In those moments of getting wet, I elected to focus on accepting his loss and while I cried – and yes, at times, sobbed – I still took advantage of opportunities that filled my soul with joy.

Sometimes radical acceptance of our loved one’s death is needed. This helps with evolving and living again, reducing our sadness and finding new purpose and meaning. Sounds like a tall order, but it is a part of taking advantage of the opportunity for healing, regardless of how painful it is. If grief continues for an unusually long period of time, there may be other factors that are causing grief to be prolonged. It may be time to seek a grief therapist. Consider us for your journey of grief and loss through our Root of Good Care Counseling practice, a counseling program under the mission of Hope Grows.

I’ll leave you with one last thought: Gratitude and Giving of Self! Without it, our brains struggle when painful grief sets in. Consider volunteer work while you are mourning a loss. It is a direct shot of dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin, the neurons that helps us feel better, “the good feelings.” Our brains were designed, by a natural path, that rewards us with good feelings when we do what it takes to promote the survival of our genes. When we do this, we tend to repeat acts of altruistic giving of self because of the hits of healthy neurons our brains receive.

Happy Thanksgiving, and Carpe Diem!

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Hope Grows Founder & Clinical Director

Finding Your “Why”

Amy Oledzki on October 1, 2024

The arrival of autumn brings a powerful metaphor for change, reflection, and letting go. I feel like this seasonal transition is one of the most talked about and I ponder and wonder the reason, other than nature serves as a mirror for our inner journey, helping us refine ourselves and find the “why” in life.

One of the most “why” provoking life events is any pain and suffering, such as violence, abuse, and loss. Violence is just senseless, abuse is merely unacceptable, and losing someone is heartbreaking. None the less, they all provoke the proverbial “why” question.

While finding our “why” can be challenging in most circumstances, I believe the pain and suffering from violence, abuse, and loss deserve a different emotional response than the written words in this blog. For the sake of this communication, my focus here is caregiving, and the pain and suffering caregivers witness on a daily basis can often make life feel disorienting and overwhelming.

Being there for someone in the most vulnerable time of their life is an ebb and flow, where we are consistently evaluating our space and time to be at the top of our game, so to speak. The transition of seasons can guide us in many ways and by considering the reciprocal relationship between self and nature, we can help with the “why” that surfaces.

If you are a regular reader of these blogs, you will know that I have talked about this type of reciprocity before. Use this blog in a way to find guidance in connecting to the deeper “why” amidst the difficult emotions providing care evokes. Consider the thought-provoking words below and the suggested reflection.

When we witness suffering as part of a natural cycle in nature, there is constant death and rebirth, decay and renewal. While suffering is difficult to witness, understanding it as part of the broader life cycle can help reframe its meaning. Just as storms pass and seasons change, suffering too, while painful, has a place. Witnessing pain does not negate the moments of love, peace, and healing that occurs, it becomes a greater rhythm beyond the immediate hardship.

Reflection: Ask yourself how you can see the suffering you witness as part of a larger cycle. Can you find peace in the knowledge that, like nature, all things are impermanent, and your presence is helping someone through a critical part of their journey?

Even nature endures challenging moments, with its small, subtle growth. Albeit slow, but yet, almost an imperceptible growth. Similarly, caregiving often involves small victories that can easily go unnoticed in the midst of pain—moments of comfort, moments where dignity is preserved, or where human connection transcends suffering. Finding your “why” in caregiving may lie in recognizing these subtle, yet meaningful impacts.

Reflection: At the end of each day, reflect on one small moment where you helped or witnessed something good. It could be as simple as offering a kind word, seeing a patient’s smile, or easing someone’s burden, even if briefly. These moments can help you reconnect to the purpose behind your care.

Nature is always fully present, adapting to each moment as it comes. Caregiving too demands presence, a mindfulness that allows you to be fully engaged in each task, each interaction. When the pain and suffering seem overwhelming, being present in the now—without trying to control or fix everything—can help ease the emotional weight. In this way, the act of caregiving itself can become a meditation, an opportunity to focus on the here and now.

Reflection: Ground yourself when you feel overwhelmed by taking deep breaths, and focus on the moment at hand rather than projecting into the future or dwelling on the past. Let nature remind you that your “why” is found not in grand gestures but in the quiet, moment-to-moment presence you offer.

A gardener doesn’t control the seasons or stop the cycle of life, but creates conditions for growth despite the inevitable changes. As a caregiver, your role is not to prevent suffering but to cultivate moments of relief, comfort, and peace wherever possible.

Reflection: See yourself as a steward of well-being. Even in the face of pain, you are creating space for hope, dignity, and connection. This understanding can be your “why”—that your care, even amidst suffering, brings essential elements of humanity to those who need it most.

There is a reciprocity of care in nature, a give and take if you will. Caregiving is also reciprocal. You offer physical, emotional, and spiritual support and, in turn, caregiving offers you opportunities to grow in empathy, patience, and resilience. The service you provide often unlocks a deeper sense of purpose. Your “why” may emerge in recognizing that the act of caregiving, no matter how painful, is also part of your own personal growth and evolution.

Reflection: Consider how the experience of caregiving is shaping you. How is this deepening your sense of compassion? What lessons are you learning about the fragility and beauty of life, about your own capacity for love and strength?

In nature, nothing exists in isolation—everything is interconnected. Similarly, caregiving can often feel isolating, but it’s important to remember that you are not alone. Leaning into community support (other caregivers, friends, family, spiritual groups, or Hope Grows) can remind you that your “why” is connected to something larger. Even the strongest tree thrives in a forest, not in solitude.

Reflection: Find a way to connect with other caregivers or people who understand your challenges. Sharing your experiences can help you process difficult emotions and find meaning in the shared human experience of caregiving.

In nature, harsh conditions often create resilience and beauty—think of how trees with deep roots survive storms or how flowers bloom after fire. Similarly, the suffering you witness can deepen your sense of compassion, empathy, and patience. Caregiving, when seen through the lens of this reciprocal relationship, becomes not just about providing care, but about allowing that care to transform you as well.

Reflection: Consider how the suffering you witness has softened or expanded your heart. Your “why” may not always be found in what you can do to relieve suffering, but in how your heart responds to it with kindness, understanding, and love.

One final thought worth considering: while caregiving during times of suffering may feel unbearable, considering the above nature suggestions with the reflection, a deeper purpose just might emerge. Everything is interconnected, temporary, and part of a larger whole in nature. Your “why” in caregiving may not be about fixing or stopping the suffering, but about showing up with presence, love, and resilience amidst the pain.

Let your care be a reflection of the cycles of nature, EVER-Giving-Growing-Evolving, even through the darkest of seasons. And remember, if the hike gets rough, Hope Grows is here to support your seasons of change.

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Hope Grows Founder & Clinical Director

Steadiness

Amy Oledzki on September 4, 2024

I woke this morning and the temperatures were cooler and the sky clear and blue, almost an azure blue. There is a lot of historical significance, biological function, cultural and religious significance and symbolism of this color. Biologically, the true color of Azure is rare in living organisms – perhaps a bluebird or blue butterfly?

I was surprised to learn that blue jays are not actually blue and that their blue hue is the result of Rayleigh scattering. Without turning this blog into a science lesson on color, I was fascinated by what I was reading, but then really disappointed to learn about Rayleigh scattering. It not only is a phenomenon that happens with the sky being Azure blue, but is a result of pigment, protein, wavelengths, and refraction.

None the less, the feeling that this Azure blue sky brings remains the same for me, a sense of peace and calm, as well as nostalgia, the one thing that we all seem to strive for in this crazy mixed-up world we live in. I think about the predictability of this phenomenon and the consistent steadiness with which nature provides.

The heat and little rain this summer has also been steady. A lot of water from the spigot has been used this summer, keeping the plants alive. The water bill sure did confirm how much…ouch! The rise of food, gas, and energy has been steady as well. I ask myself, what is going on and how can our nation’s financial security change in such a few short years?

Putting the azure sky and the rise of the cost of living aside, what does steadiness truly mean for caregivers and the Hope Grows Care Model? From a definition standpoint, steadiness is defined in different ways and it depends on the dictionary source you are using as a resource. The Cambridge organization defines steadiness from a behavioral standpoint as “being reasonable and showing good judgment,” so that people trust you. The Merriam-Webster site defined steadiness as “the state of continuing without change.” And one more (as I like to describe things in three for some reason), the Oxford site defined the word as “the quality of being sensible and reliable and the fact of being stable and not changing.”

When I think of caregiving with this month’s focus, I think of the steadiness of the care receiver and how often a caregiver might be watching how quickly the physical stability of their loved one’s gait, balance when they stand, or, in some cases, their ability to be behind the wheel of the car changes. Caregiver concerns about steadiness and when is it appropriate or even permissible to override their loved one’s decisions regarding safety and medical CURE and care.

From the caregivers’ point of view, sensibility and reliability of putting safety first is a decision that needs steadiness. However, concern and fear creep in…knowing that overruling their loved one by taking the keys to the car is going to upset the apple cart, so to speak. From the care receiver’s standpoint, the steadiness of knowing what is reasonable and showing good judgment is not being met with trust. In this case, the steadiness seems to be at odds with the dynamic and sometimes chaotic nature of caregiving.

Caregivers need to remain strong and steadfast because it can serve as a stabilizing force. Remaining steadfast allows caregivers to remain calm in the face of challenges, balanced in their responses to the needs of others, and grounded in their own self-care practices. This steady approach helps to create a nurturing environment, both for the caregiver and the one receiving care. It also fosters a sense of peace and resilience, enabling caregivers to find joy even in difficult moments.

Some things to consider to remain steady: cultivate mindfulness, set clear goals and priorities, establish routines, manage stress effectively, embrace flexibility and adaptability, practice self-compassion, stay connected with your values, build a support system, continue to learn and grow, and take care of your well-being.

Wow! That is a lot. Just know that by embracing some of this, you can prevent burnout and continue to provide compassionate care with a joyful heart. Those tough decisions of taking away the keys is about setting boundaries of safety. Being sensible and steady, in this case, is NOT negotiable. Just like the Rayleigh’s scattering, at first the explanation of it all seems mean, disappointing, and, well, feeling like we are being tricked. I’m sure your loved one feels this way too, but in the end, peace, calm, and eventually joy can be the result.

So, let the phenomenon of the BLUE in nature be a reminder that caring for others doesn’t mean losing sight of one’s own balance and well-being—it means integrating these qualities to sustain both joy and the capacity to care.

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Hope Grows Founder & Clinical Director

Growth

Amy Oledzki on August 6, 2024

August is typically a productive month in the gardens, with many plants reaching their peak growth and yielding a bountiful harvest. Right now, watering, weeding, and deadheading is what August is all about in the any garden, and certainly at the Healing Gardens at the Iris Respite House.

Continuing to keep up with what nature is NOT providing us right now has resulted in round-the-clock watering. It has become a challenge, but a necessary challenge that gardeners must endure when nature doesn’t cooperate with what the growing season needs.

“Is it worth it?” mumbles the gardener’s pure exhaustion. Hints of learning and implementing a rain dance surface with a constant check of the weather app to learn of any new weather patterns that may inspire a reprieve.

Negative thoughts start and another question ensues: “What is nature trying to teach within all of this oppressive heat and dry temps?” The response is resistance and the uttered word is just “Ugh!”

Stop. Don’t bring that energy into the gardens – reframe to a positive outlook and repeat, “I can handle this, and it will rain.” Mindset! Shift the focus of control! Look at what is resilient, beautiful, and still growing. The fresh herbs, the flowers for cutting, and the produce.

I begin to water again, pull some weeds, clean the flower beds, and water again. Despite the struggle, the flowers look great. I focus on the extra attention of the watering and think about night fall providing the needed respite. Positive thoughts continue. When the sun rises the next day, new growth will be noticed. Ahhh, hope!

Faith is restored. The flowers and plants rebound overnight and the cycle continues. I notice the trees though; they are losing leaves as if the autumn season has already begun. No. Focus on the positive: the trees will sustain. Back to watering and the continued support, which is crucial, along with the weeding and deadheading and the pest and disease management.

Sounds relentless, right? Sometimes life struggles are, too. Understanding growth in relation to nature can be a profound way to find acceptance, teaching us to reframe our thinking, and then soon, our thoughts become peaceful and joyful. It is a process that can be applied in all areas of life, not just in cultivating garden wellness. Perhaps that is the lesson. When gardens – with their cycles of growth, decay, and renewal – become challenging, it can offer a natural metaphor for life and death.

The cyclical nature of life is a natural relatable concept, one to embrace as we cultivate our own growth and wellness. Understanding life and death as it relates to nature is a profound way of accepting, adjusting, processing, and embarking on a new identity in the wake of loss. As we evolve from the loss, growth abounds. Like the spent flower from the heat, the attention and support it receives radiates beauty. As I wrapped up this month’s focus of growth, our area of the world received several days of moments of rain. Was it reframing and letting go, or was it just sheer coincidence? No one will ever really know…

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Hope Grows Founder & Clinical Director