Every day in my travels around this country (both in person or online) people ask one question:
“How do you stay hopeful right now; how do you keep going when there is so much to grieve over, so much cruelty in front of you, when there is such daily violence to contend with?”
I often tell them I stay hopeful for Anne Frank.
The Jewish teenager wrote these words in the early 1940s, while confined within the cramped upper rooms above an Amsterdam business, that became the entire world for three years of her far too brief life while her family hid from the Nazis:
It’s really a wonder that I haven’t dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.
Every time I read or I think of those words, I remember why I stay hopeful right now.
I stay hopeful because she stayed hopeful. Despite every reason to abandon the will to continue or the optimism to sustain her, she refused to. The beautiful defiance of her young heart revealed in those words is reason enough to keep going.
I stay hopeful because hopeless is not an option. Hopelessness is defeat and resignation; it is a willing surrender to darkness that insults the memory of so many who have courageously made this planet their home long before we ever showed up here.
I stay hopeful because people of every nationality, religious affiliation, and life circumstance who have preceded us, have experienced all manner of hell during their lifetimes: unspeakable suffering and unthinkable fear—and would not relent. They faced genocide and slavery and war; endured murderous regimes and malignant dictators and corrupt governments and yet chose to persevere. They made the daily, sometimes hourly decision to speak and live and create and work and resist and love when it proved difficult. We need to do that now.
We who inhabit this planet in these days have inherited it from them: the children, activists, caregivers, soldiers, helpers, and parents—the ordinary people who would not allow themselves to become so despondent or so weary in their present circumstance that they stopped giving a damn or making a life or bending the arc of the moral universe toward justice in any way they were able.
Now it’s our turn. This is our moment to spend our fragile and fleeting sliver of space and time here, and for the sake of our predecessors in humanity and for our descendants who will be here after we’re gone—we can’t blow it.
We can’t allow our present troubles to overcome us. We cannot be overwhelmed by the pain in our path, to the point where we are no longer willing to feel it or respond to it. We can’t wilt in the face of hateful, fearful people who would make the world less diverse and less equitable. We can’t become apathetic or stay silent or sidestep the turbulence of engaging the ugliness outside or doors or on our social media feeds—because the multitudes whose feet traversed this place previously, refused to.
So stay hopeful: for Anne Frank, for Rosa Parks, for Mahatma Gandhi, for the Suffragettes, for the Little Rock Nine, For Harvey Milk, For Malala Yousafzai, for Syrian refugees, for the Parkland Students, for Greta Thunberg.
For them, for the other recorded heroes of our shared story, and for the billions of human beings whose names and faces and stories you’ll never know, who refused to lose hope even as all hell broke loose around them, and allowed you to inherit a world worth saving.
Anne Frank believed that people are really good at heart. Nearly 70 years later, you get to prove her right. You get to be the good people. You get to hold on to your ideals and you get to carry them out even in days when it feels and seems impossible.
Stay hopeful because you have breath in your lungs and a working heart planted firmly in your chest, and you have this day in which you can speak and live and create and work and resist and love.
“Amazing Grace. I’ve always struggled with the message of this time of year. A celebration of peace and love by remembering someone’s suffering. I’ve always found that hard to stomach.
This year, it feels like the suffering in the world is so apparent and relenting. It’s made me rethink the message of Easter. Perhaps there’s no use in trying to forget and turn away from the suffering. Perhaps we should never forget but allow it to stop us in our tracks and think. There’s so much to think about it can feel overwhelming.
I hope that, this Easter, whatever is going on with you and whatever difficulties your face, that you know that you’re not alone and that there are people around you who love you. This is my little message this Eastertime. Someone once said these words to me and they made all the difference. I hope they do the same for you.
From the west of Ireland, wishing you and those around you the warmest regards and enduring love this Eastertime.
I love fiction, but I’m not good at writing fiction. When I was in second grade, I wrote a fiction story. Years after, I posted one picture on “Twitter” of my book. One person said,
“Great … they used to ask that doors be removed so kids don’t suffocate. Rethink your story line before morgue starts investing in baby caskets. Remove that one just in case. Its dangerous”
Author Spotlight – Maureen Twomey, Author of Before, Afdre, and After (My stroke… oh what fun) #author #authorspotlight #memoir #stroke #strokesurvivor #meettheauthor #RRBC @Maureen_2me @YvetteMCalleiro
“Hello, beautiful readers! I have the pleasure of introducing you to a remarkable woman and author, Maureen Twomey! She is the author of Before, Afdre, and After (My stroke…oh what fun). As you can tell from the title, Maureen survived a stroke and wrote a book to share her experience. I read her book in November, and you can read my review here. I am excited to help you get to know this incredible lady!
Maureen and I spoke over the phone so I could interview her. Since her stroke, writing has been a challenge, but I’ll let her tell her story below.
Why did you choose to write this book?
I always wanted to write a story, but when the stroke happened in June 2000 (at the age of 33 years old), writing took a backseat. I initially lost all function on my right side as well as my ability to communicate. So, recovering from the stroke was my priority. As I got better, I decided I wanted to write about my stroke.
My teacher, Ellen Gilbert, agreed to type it for me since I didn’t have much control of my right hand or the ability to concentrate for long periods of time (now I write with my left hand), so I shared my story. Laura Mazer, my editor, introduced me to Brooke Warner, who helped me find a team to get my book published.
What do you love most about writing?
I’ve always enjoyed being creative. I wrote a story in second grade that will remain unpublished. I have always had a quirky sense of humor. I created a career in copywriting and creating ads. I originally was thinking of going into movies, but I knew I didn’t have the voice for that. So, I figured I could go into creative writing. Right out of college, I worked a few jobs before becoming a copywriter. I remember one time when one of my friends pointed out a commercial he loved, and it was one that I had written, which made me elated. I knew that’s what I wanted to do in my life.
How did you decide to write about this topic?
I wrote this to share what happened to me. I hope no one ever has to go through what I’ve been through, but if my story could help them in any way, I knew I had to tell it.
What was one of the valuable lessons you learned through the process of writing this book?
One of the valuable lessons I learned is that it’s okay to ask for help.
(As I read Maureen’s story, one of the lessons I took away from her journey was how many kind-hearted people surround us and we don’t even realize it.)
How long did it take you to write this book?
Well, I had the stroke in 2000. I don’t remember exactly when the idea came to me to write the story because, at first, I was just focused on getting my body and mind to work the way it once had. (That is an ongoing journey.) I finished writing the book in 2015.
How do you like to connect with readers?
It’s been about nine years since I published, so I don’t really promote it as much as I once did.
What do you hope readers take away from your book?
I hope readers enjoy my memoir. I want readers to know that I didn’t give up and kept pushing to get back to my life. And though I could never get back to my old job, I do volunteer whenever I can.
~o~
Thank you for speaking with me, Maureen. I am in awe of your strength and your positive energy. I hope everyone reads your story, and I hope it instills a zest for life within every reader.
When Maureen Twomey was only thirty-three years old, she experienced a massive stroke-one that took away her ability to read, write, walk, and even speak (AAAAAAAHHH!!). Well, she wasn’t about to go down without a fight. In Before, Afdre and After, Twomey offers a sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes comical, and ultimately inspiring glimpse at what it is to lose everything when you’re supposed to be in the prime of your life-and what it takes to get it back, piece by tiny piece.
“I never thought I’d say this and mean it: This book will make you laugh and it will make you cry. It’s a joyous, inventive journey through loss and recovery, and Maureen’s spirit shines through in this blueprint for living a full, blessed and loving life. Read it now, you fools!!”—Jeff Kreisler, author of Get Rich Cheating and Dollars and Sense: How We Misthink Money and How Spend Smarter
Before Maureen Twomey’s stroke, she graduated from UCLA, and she went on to work for several advertising agencies as a creative copywriter. Then, at the age of 33, she had a major stroke (Aaaaaaah!). Well thankfully, her sense of humor is still intact. Before, Afdre, and After (My stroke … oh what fun) tells her story with honesty, sometimes moving, sometimes funny, and ultimately inspiring.Connect with Maureen here:
This momentous milestone makes this event that much better! RRBC has been here changing the writing game for a full decade! Pushing writers to write more, to write better, to publish only the best writing! Yes, that’s RRBC! We’ve lost some, we’ve gained more, and we are still here pushing forward and doing the work! If you’ve ever been on the RRBC roster and are now attentive and highly focused on the writing you publish, you can thank RRBCfor that!
CONGRATULATIONS, RRBC and Nonnie Jules! What great staying power you have! You’re still here, and still changing the writing game! …”
“It’s tempting to view gratitude only through the filter of what is pleasant, as if only comfort and ease are worth being thankful for.
Today, here are a few surprising places you might look for unexpected abundance.
Give thanks for grief.
It is the necessary tax on loving people and being loved by them. The magnitude of our mourning is proportionate to the depth of connection we had with someone who is gone. The tears that come are a tribute. Even as you grieve the present absence of someone you loved, be grateful for their past presence. It is a blessing to have had someone worth losing and missing.
Give thanks for pain.
Suffering is a reminder that your heart, though badly broken, is still working. Your capacity to be wounded is a sign that you care deeply and as treacherous as this life can be this is no small feat. There is something cathartic about despair and the tears it brings, the way it cleans house of all that is unimportant, so feel it all and be grateful that you are fully alive.
Give thanks for adversity.
They say that the roots of a tree grow deeper in the winter, when provision is not as plentiful; that its stability actually grows with this deeper reaching into the ground. There are lessons we learn when we go through difficulty that we could never learn any other way, riches that only come in the scalding crucible of hardship. Even in the struggle of these moments, you are being renovated so be grateful.
Give thanks for changed plans.
Humility comes when we are surprised by life, when the path we thought we would be walking turns out not to be the one we’re on. Though this comes with bitterness, fear, and uncertainty, see your unexpected road as a reminder of your smallness and vulnerability, a chance to jettison some of the arrogance and self-reliance that you’ve carried around.
Give thanks for regret.
So you blew it. Welcome to the club. Whatever bad decision you’ve made or however you feel like you failed or dropped the ball, take heart because your story’s not over. Now you get to go forward; to be wiser, kinder, more grateful. You get to course-correct in this day, to craft something redemptive out of the glorious mess you’ve made. Don’t linger in regret, just let it move you.
Give thanks for difficult decisions.
If you have a tough choice to make right now, celebrate this. You have something many people don’t have: you have options. As stressful and as fraught with anxiety as these days may be, they come with the promise that something new is coming. Weigh carefully, choose with as much wisdom as you can, and be grateful for the promise of possibility.
Give thanks for loneliness.
Times of solitude can seem especially cruel when it seems like others are celebrating connection and community but they are also an incredible gift. When we are alone, we learn to mine strength that we didn’t realize we had, we discover gifts that we may never have unearthed, and we find a new peace with the person we see in the mirror. Let solitude teach you all it can right now.
Give thanks for outrage.
The holy discontent in your spirit at the injustice around you is a gift. It is your soul’s alarm at what seems so not right about the world; the belief that there is better and more loving and more healing work to be done and that you are fully equipped to do it. Let your anger remind you that good people still walk the planet—and that you are one of them.
Friend, these days may be filled with a whole lot that seems unworthy of gratitude, but try anyway.
Yes, this current pain might be overwhelming but it is also the stinking manure out of which beautiful things will grow, so keep going.
For all you see and feel and experience today (even the stuff that seems and even isquite terrible), give thanks.
What terrible things have you found gratitude for? Let me know in the comments.“
Give thanks for changed plans.
Humility comes when we are surprised by life, when the path we thought we would be walking turns out not to be the one we’re on. Though this comes with bitterness, fear, and uncertainty, see your unexpected road as a reminder of your smallness and vulnerability, a chance to jettison some of the arrogance and self-reliance that you’ve carried around.
Give thanks for regret.
So you blew it. Welcome to the club. Whatever bad decision you’ve made or however you feel like you failed or dropped the ball, take heart because your story’s not over. Now you get to go forward; to be wiser, kinder, more grateful. You get to course-correct in this day, to craft something redemptive out of the glorious mess you’ve made. Don’t linger in regret, just let it move you.
Give thanks for difficult decisions.
If you have a tough choice to make right now, celebrate this. You have something many people don’t have: you have options. As stressful and as fraught with anxiety as these days may be, they come with the promise that something new is coming. Weigh carefully, choose with as much wisdom as you can, and be grateful for the promise of possibility.
Give thanks for loneliness.
Times of solitude can seem especially cruel when it seems like others are celebrating connection and community but they are also an incredible gift. When we are alone, we learn to mine strength that we didn’t realize we had, we discover gifts that we may never have unearthed, and we find a new peace with the person we see in the mirror. Let solitude teach you all it can right now.
Give thanks for outrage.
The holy discontent in your spirit at the injustice around you is a gift. It is your soul’s alarm at what seems so not right about the world; the belief that there is better and more loving and more healing work to be done and that you are fully equipped to do it. Let your anger remind you that good people still walk the planet—and that you are one of them.
Friend, these days may be filled with a whole lot that seems unworthy of gratitude, but try anyway.
Yes, this current pain might be overwhelming but it is also the stinking manure out of which beautiful things will grow, so keep going.
For all you see and feel and experience today (even the stuff that seems and even isquite terrible), give thanks.
What terrible things have you found gratitude for? Let me know in the comments.
Give thanks for changed plans.
Humility comes when we are surprised by life, when the path we thought we would be walking turns out not to be the one we’re on. Though this comes with bitterness, fear, and uncertainty, see your unexpected road as a reminder of your smallness and vulnerability, a chance to jettison some of the arrogance and self-reliance that you’ve carried around.
Give thanks for regret.
So you blew it. Welcome to the club. Whatever bad decision you’ve made or however you feel like you failed or dropped the ball, take heart because your story’s not over. Now you get to go forward; to be wiser, kinder, more grateful. You get to course-correct in this day, to craft something redemptive out of the glorious mess you’ve made. Don’t linger in regret, just let it move you.
Give thanks for difficult decisions.
If you have a tough choice to make right now, celebrate this. You have something many people don’t have: you have options. As stressful and as fraught with anxiety as these days may be, they come with the promise that something new is coming. Weigh carefully, choose with as much wisdom as you can, and be grateful for the promise of possibility.
Give thanks for loneliness.
Times of solitude can seem especially cruel when it seems like others are celebrating connection and community but they are also an incredible gift. When we are alone, we learn to mine strength that we didn’t realize we had, we discover gifts that we may never have unearthed, and we find a new peace with the person we see in the mirror. Let solitude teach you all it can right now.
Give thanks for outrage.
The holy discontent in your spirit at the injustice around you is a gift. It is your soul’s alarm at what seems so not right about the world; the belief that there is better and more loving and more healing work to be done and that you are fully equipped to do it. Let your anger remind you that good people still walk the planet—and that you are one of them.
Friend, these days may be filled with a whole lot that seems unworthy of gratitude, but try anyway.
Yes, this current pain might be overwhelming but it is also the stinking manure out of which beautiful things will grow, so keep going.
For all you see and feel and experience today (even the stuff that seems and even isquite terrible), give thanks.
What terrible things have you found gratitude for? Let me know in the comments.“
Maureen Twomey has been on our roster since February of 2016… over 7 years! When she was only thirty-three years old, she experienced a massive stroke—one that took away her ability to read, write, walk, and even speak (AAAAAAAHHH!!). Well, she wasn’t about to go down without a fight. In Before, Afdre, and After, Twomey offers a sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes comical, and ultimately inspiring account of what it is to lose everything when you’re supposed to be in the prime of your life—and what it takes to get it back, piece by tiny piece. Maureen has been ingratiating herself with the membership, supporting her fellow authors and with her participation in club events. It’s no wonder that we find her here as our OCTOBER MEMBER OF THE MONTH!
I was having a conversation with my coworker on Monday, as we felt as though we had weighted blanket’s over our heads, while an anonymous person added weight by laying over us.
World conflict has the power to take hold of our hearts, squeeze tightly, until you find yourself bending over, as you gasp for breathe.
Remembering to take time to go through your thoughts and feelings, may be helpful this week. Make a plan as to how you can help. And remember your help will probably look different than others, and that’s ok. I am reminding myself to hold friends and families in prayer, and get involved to make a difference in the small way I am able to.
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Maureen Twomey 