A Place for Us All

As I watched a rerun episode of Home Town on HGTV with A, I asked him what he’d think of having a workshop similar to Ben Napier’s. He quickly replied, “Can I go in there too?”

Of course, it’ll be yours ’cause it’ll be ours.

He said, “Okay.”

No two thoughts, just clarity on being able to participate and he’s good.

I’m struggling right now in life, running into old patterns and narratives I can’t wait to put on the shelf for a nice long rest. I’ll know this part and story has been in my life, but moving forward, this is a story that’s come to an end and a new book is beginning. I am ready—and yet, the lift to get this book back on the shelf from which it came over 30-plus years ago is one my years of reps in various forms of therapy have supported. That last personal lift that no self-help book can write because it’s yours and yours alone to define and design. Yeesh—those 30-plus years have been fun, filled with humans and experiences I am so grateful I got to know. In this book of life, I could never have written anything; it was all written for me, and I live in gratitude.

Perhaps that’s it: the gift of this life and the letting go to discover the new one is scary and yet inevitable. Once shifts occur, they’re done. You can’t go back. Things that never have happened have now happened, and the lived experience of it alters all possibilities of the story you thought you were living or were designed to live. The tiniest shifts, the smallest chisel of stone, once removed reveals itself in a way that can never be redefined. The cracks will always be there; no glue can remove the separation from its original form. We all of us, daily, in our lives, are like stones being weathered by the ever-constant winds of life.

As I’ve been reflecting on this year, I’ve recognized something about myself that feels helpful as I navigate these next steps: who we are, how we operate, the customs, the cultures, the stories we play out in the lives that we live—it is the driving force behind everything I do. No matter the book, these themes will certainly be present.

I often worry that I am messing my son up, as I have chosen a road this past year that was not riddled with the brightest of highlights. And yet, I too know the volume of “best day evers” that exist is still high. Over the past two years, I have participated in a parenting program that has been the best gift ever in a time in life that has felt quite rocky and uncertain—riddled with all the anxiety of an old new mom who was pregnant over 35, navigating life with a pandemic baby. We had a strong bubble, and I like to think his bubble has only gotten stronger and more resilient as it grows as he grows. I too am working on living honestly, and though this might leave my son with images of me I’d rather him not remember, I am human and I am imperfect. I cry, I get angry and upset, I make mistakes, I have to say I’m sorry too. I do a lot to take care of my mental state and let him know sometimes I miss the mark and wish I did better. I am beyond grateful for the opportunity to keep going and to keep trying to figure it out.

This past year, I’ve come to appreciate the process. As you’ve experienced, I’m working on letting go of controlling the results—focusing purely on getting results and learning and growing. If anything, I hope that this is what my son sees modeled from me: an imperfect person doing their best to do better, while always accepting the simple joys and easy wins of everyday life. No matter what the outcomes, this is always within my power each day. No matter the role, the title, the position—this is my power. It’s his too. I hope he knows the richness of life comes most from living without shame, but with mindful responsibility for the world we create for ourselves and each other.

We are blessed. Deeply blessed by our community, by our families, by the people who have helped shed light on all of the gifts, talents, and skills we are excited to fine-tune and refine as we close the book on 2025 and say hello to 2026. What a year it has been, and what a ride we are grateful you’ve continued to put on the helmet and ride with us on.

It is exciting to recognize the power we all have to rewrite the stories we’re telling in the lives that we live. If anything, I hope I have offered you a little light, perhaps some humor, and a whole lot of “well, that’s Mallorie.” Meaning, I hope you’re gaining insight into what we offer as partners: a place where imperfection is welcomed and stories are celebrated and challenged by the complexities they offer to ourselves and each other—here, now, and in the past, present, future eternity.

Thank you, with warmth, laughter, and love this holiday season and always!

Mallorie