Friendship and Gratitude

I started the month by celebrating the life of my best friend, Julie. Her twin sister, Natalie, threw the pinkest, most beautiful celebration for her. For those who don’t know, Julie passed away ten years ago from Cystic Fibrosis. Losing her was true heartbreak, and this decade without her has been bittersweet.

One of the unexpected blessings has been the friendships I’ve formed with her friends. For example, Julie’s neighbor’s wife, Nora, and I have become incredibly close. I introduced her to Natalie years ago, knowing they would get along—and they did. Watching the two of them navigate motherhood has been such a privilege. I'll definitely be the fun aunt when grow up. They are extraordinary mothers, and I feel so blessed to be their friend.

I just returned home from Thanksgiving. My Nana, who is 90, was lively and joyful, and I got to spend time with my two siblings, which is always fun. It was a wonderful, relaxing holiday—a much-needed break from the pace of everyday life.

I hope your Thanksgiving was just as warm and restful. Now it’s time to deck the halls! I want to say how profoundly grateful I am for all of you. The fact that you choose to read this year after year is a gift I could never repay.

So thankful,
Hannah!

Rolling Into a Fourth-Grade Classroom

“Hey, you were here last year. Welcome back!” the receptionist said as I handed her my ID. The glass between us was solid, protective—meant to stop a shooter if it ever came to that. I can’t enter a school without identification, which is exactly as it should be. Still, the thought always gives me pause as the buzzer sounds and the door opens.

“How are you?” they all asked once the security measures were behind us.

“I’ve been good.”

Nora peeked her head in.

“I’m so excited!” she said.

“Me too!” I replied.

I was going to speak about the movie Out of My Mind to fourth graders today. Nora is one of my good friends, and this is one of my favorite speeches of the year. We walked to her classroom, which was colorfully decorated and focused on positivity. We quickly caught up.

The fourth-grade class filed in and sat in their assigned seats. Nora introduced me, and I took over.

“Hi boys and girls! I’m so glad to be here! My name is Hannah, and I came just to talk to you today. I’m going to talk to you about my life and my disability—and, of course, about Out of My Mind.

I was born with something called cerebral palsy. I can’t walk or talk because of it. I can walk if someone helps me, but otherwise, I use my wheelchair. Because I have a disability, people come and help me. They help with taking me to the restroom, feeding me, washing my face at bedtime, putting me in bed, dressing me in the morning, and putting on my pajamas at night.

I may not be able to walk or talk, but I’m so happy to say that I graduated from college, have a job, and live a really happy life—even though I’m in a wheelchair. I sound a lot like Melody, right? Melody needs help like me. However, we have different lives, and I’ll talk about that throughout our time together.”

I have given this speech for ten years, and it never gets old. To refresh your memory, Out of My Mind is about a fourth-grade girl who has cerebral palsy and uses a communication device to speak. Sound familiar? It’s very familiar to me.

The kids ask questions at the end of my speech. These were some of them this year:

• Did the kids hurt your feelings in school? I always say it hurt to be ignored by my peers.
• Can you program your own communication device? Yes!
• Do you have friends now? Yes! I have friends who love me for who I am, which is priceless!

Their questions always make me smile—and think. Each year, I’m reminded how much I’ve changed since high school. Thank goodness life gets bigger and better after high school!

Have a Wonderful Month, 

Hannah!  

Swinging

On a crisp fall day at my cabin, I sat in an adaptive swing. The swing had a high back and looked a bit like a child’s car seat. Aviva, my goddaughter, wore the unicorn dress I had just given her, the fluffy rainbow skirt spilling softly over my black leggings. Her small hands gripped my arms, her wide eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Ready to spin?” my dad asked Aviva, a playful grin tugging at his lips.
“What does that mean?” she asked innocently, tilting her head.
“You’re going to find out!” he exclaimed, laughter in his voice.

My dad twisted the four chains that held the swing to the swing set’s top bar. He twisted them two good times and let us go. The swing surrendered to gravity, dipping and twirling us through the crisp autumn air. Leaves scattered in little whirlwinds around us as we spun.

“What did you think, Aviva?” my dad asked.
“Whoa, that was crazy!” she shouted, giggling.
“Do you want me to push you and then jump into my arms?” her great-uncle Dan asked.
“Yes!”
“Stand on Hannah’s legs and I’ll catch you,” he added, his voice gentle.

Aviva seemed hesitant, her little feet shuffling. I helped her up, as if to say, “It’s OK. I want you to do this.” Her grip tightened around my arms, and we began swinging higher, soaring through the crisp air as my dad pushed us with steady, strong strokes.

Feeling the wind rush past our faces, my dad called, “OK, jump!”

Aviva leaped like a little frog from one lily pad to the next, her laughter ringing through the yard. My dad caught her effortlessly, her arms wrapping around him in delight.

“That was fun, but I’m finished.” Aviva ran off, her rainbow skirt bouncing behind her as she dashed back to the cabin to show her mom the tiny gap in her smile — she’d just lost a tooth. The tooth fairy will be coming tonight. “That was fun,” I said, nodding with enthusiasm, appreciating just how playful and magical my dad could be.

Even though the world can feel heavy and dark, moments like these — swinging through the crisp autumn air, Aviva’s laughter ringing around me — let the light in. They remind me that joy can arrive in sudden bursts, soft and bright, warming the heart even when darkness seems to be all around us.

 

Keep Swinging (and hang in there),

Hannah!  

Hey There, Delilah

I rolled into the Chase Bank location. There were balloons and free merch on tables. A local radio station had teamed up with Chase to market a new credit card, and Delilah was gracing us with her presence. If you don’t know who Delilah is, let me explain. Each night, Delilah’s voice drifts through the air like a friend at the kitchen table — offering music, stories, and quiet encouragement. Her words carry both joy and sorrow, shaped by a life of deep love, loss, and faith. Somehow, she makes even strangers feel less alone.

Listening to her reminded me of the power of sharing our own stories. As an aspiring author and motivational speaker, I’m inspired to use my experiences — the joys, the challenges, and everything in between — to uplift others. Just as she does every night on the air.

This woman is quite literally one of my heroines. I’ve listened to her since I was ten years old. So, in the beginning of August, when the local radio station that plays Delilah mentioned a contest to meet her, I immediately entered. I highly doubted I would win, but it was worth a shot. Two weeks later, I received an email saying that I had won! I let out a squeal and canceled everything I had planned that day.

I also told the woman coordinating the event that I use a wheelchair. That can be a big PR advantage, and I often end up getting the royal treatment. I don’t mind. I get time to meet celebrities, and they get their pictures. I understand the ways of this world. Being the queen of networking — and wanting an agent for my book — I was determined to take all the time with her that I could get.

Delilah walked in with an air of grace and joy. Her producer, Kraig, was at her side. She greeted everyone with a warmth that rivaled the August heat. I was over the moon with excitement, texting my family: She’s in the building. They had lightly teased me all my life for liking her. I mean, I was eleven and asking for Delilah. Funny in retrospect.

Kraig, her producer, walked over first. He was in a suit with a huge smile.

“Hi, Hannah! How are you?” Kraig asked.

“Fantastic! How are you?” I responded.

“I’m very well. Delilah is so excited to meet you. The people at the bank said you’re a lifelong fan.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, she’ll be here shortly.”

Five minutes later, I heard her say my name. She walked over and gave me a hug. It was like meeting a Disney princess — just in a suit.

“I’ve loved you since I was a kid, and now I’m a grown woman, and I love you just as much.”

“Thank you. Something tells me you don’t let anything stop you from going after your dreams.”

Great segue.

“So, I just wrote a manuscript and am looking for an agent. Do you have any advice?”

“I don’t, but Kraig would. I’ll have him talk to you again.”

After taking several pictures with me, she went on to greet other fans.

Kraig found me and said that the people at Chase had given them my information. I really love how these people at Chase don’t miss a beat — impressive!

I was sitting with other fans when I realized I hadn’t gotten her memoir signed! I did not come here to have regrets. My caregiver put the memoir on my lap, and I was a woman on a mission.

I got her attention by touching her arm, and when she met my eyes, I pointed to the screen of my communication device, saying, So sorry, I forgot to ask you to sign my copy of your memoir.

“Of course, I will.”

She wrote: Dear Hannah, you are obviously tenacious and bold. Keep chasing your dreams!

Oh, Delilah, I certainly will.

Readers, have a wonderful month! Thank you for reading about my adventures.

Love,

Hannah!

Breaking Bread

 Just before heading back to Chicago, I had one last visit to squeeze in—breakfast with my dear friend Kelly. We met at the hotel restaurant, where the clinking of silverware and weekend chatter filled the air. Kelly showed up with a smile and a story.
“Hi. I broke my hand. I’ve had the longest week of my life, but I’m here,” she said.

With my luggage packed and ready to head home, I was grateful for one last visit.

If you don’t already know, I take a trip to Minnesota every year to visit friends I made at camp, some of whom I met in different seasons of life. Kelly and I met in my hometown at a certain therapy center. She was a speech pathologist, and I helped with her clients. When Kelly moved to Minnesota, it was a no-brainer that I would come and visit her.

Her blonde, classy, mature, nurturing daughter Sophia is her mini me.

“RJ, do you want help with your toys?” Sophia asked her little brother. He got settled with his toys. That girl impresses me.
“Sophie, is dance going well?”
“Yes! I got a solo!”
“I’m not surprised,” I said in earnest.
Kelly chimed in, “She’s really doing great!”

Breakfast was joyfully chaotic with Sophia’s little brother entertaining us. You have to embrace the good chaos.

My heart always breaks a little when I leave Minnesota. So many people there hold a piece of my heart. But when I return to the Land of Lincoln, I’m reminded why I have roots here.

Just a week after I got back, I had dinner with two of the sweetest human beings I know: my former chemistry tutor Cheryl and her husband, Ron.

Cheryl was by my side 18 years ago, patiently working through chemistry homework with me, explaining formulas and balancing equations. It wasn’t just tutoring—it was mentoring, and it was a friendship in the making.

Even now, Cheryl makes time to come out to Elmhurst every so often just to catch up. Dinner with them did not disappoint.

“Hannah, we have big news!” Ron said with a huge smile.
“Tell me. Tell me everything!” I leaned in, knowing it had to be good.
“Our daughter is engaged!” they both beamed.

I saw the pictures and remarked, “That’s absolute bliss!” And it was. The happiness in their faces was contagious, and I couldn’t help but feel so genuinely happy for their family.

Getting together with family and friends is a joy to me. This month was full of visits with beloved people—including my family. For the 4th of July, all 19 of us gathered at our cabin. The kids are so big, and I’m starting to see their personalities shine through. It’s truly a blessing.

Everyone in my life is incredible. Breaking bread together is as old as time, and every shared meal reminds me why: connection, joy, and peace.

With a Full Heart,

Hannah!

One Step Closer

It’s been the epitome of a fabulous month. Let me tell you all about it.
 

I attended a writing conference. Participants who wanted to meet with an agent had 10 minutes to pitch their manuscripts. When it was my turn, I rolled through twenty tables to get to the agent I chose. It was a hotel conference room with at least thirty tables, with agents sitting at each one. The air conditioning in the building was broken because it was 100 degrees outside. In the beginning, we both acknowledged how uncomfortable it was as a form of small talk.
 

Not long after, she asked for a summary of my manuscript.
 

Don’t worry, I delivered.
 

“I’ve written a 64,000-word memoir entitled Loving Fearlessly. I have Cerebral Palsy and other disabilities. The book delves into the complexities of living with disabilities. The narrative begins in high school and extends into adulthood, exploring a multitude of relationships, including those with family, friends, caregivers, and others. From humorous anecdotes to unexpected losses, it emphasizes the significance of relationships with people and God. It chronicles my journey of leaving home and facing remarkable challenges head-on, learning from mentors, and growing emotionally and spiritually. It’s separated into three parts: high school, college, and adulthood.”
 

Gosh, it feels good to be in a competitive environment. I forgot the adrenaline rush.
 

“That sounds interesting, and it sounds like you are looking for an academic publishing house?”
“I think that would be most appropriate,” I responded.
“Me too,” she said.
We talked about social media, and then time was up.

“Lovely to meet you. Please send me sample chapters,” the agent said.

I did it! I’m one step closer to my dream.

The relief was palpable throughout my body. I’m incredibly proud of myself. I hope this agent sees my sample chapters and wants more and more. It’s a huge step in the right direction.
 

Later in the month, my parents surprised me with a trip to the mall for my birthday. It was such a phenomenal day. On the day of, my roommate, Claudia, and my main caregiver, Liliana, took me out to lunch. If that wasn’t enough, my two girlfriends took me out to dinner in the city. We had a fabulous night! That’s a tiny overview of how I celebrated. For those of you who stopped by or sent a card, my most sincere gratitude is sent your way. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world—because I am.

With Love and Gratitude, 

Hannah!  

Joyful Tears on the Balcony

I am ecstatic about Pope Leo. I was driving to physical therapy, checking Instagram nonstop to see if there was white smoke. As my caregiver drove, I hit refresh a million times. About five minutes into the drive, I shrieked.

“White smoke, Liliana,” I said to my caregiver.
“Really? Are you kidding?” Liliana exclaimed.
I nodded.

I was barely Catholic when Pope Francis was elected. This truly felt like my first conclave. I was really hoping the new pope would be someone like Francis, because we desperately need compassion in this world. Pope Leo embodies that.

My favorite moment was when Pope Leo cried on the balcony of St. Peter’s Basilica. I know he will be a leader unafraid to show emotion, and I think that’s a wonderful quality. I even journaled some thoughts. Here they are:

---

As a little boy, he played Mass instead of baseball. What we often deem “not normal” could actually be holy. What if being different is actually holy? People who are different are often labeled “weird.” It reminds me of Jesus. He wasn’t normal—he was born in a barn and died the most brutal death imaginable.

Peter was the first pope. Jesus asked him three times, “Do you love me?”—as if to say, Do you love me enough to build my Church? Peter had denied Jesus three times. There’s a parallel here. Yes, Peter denied him, but if love covers a multitude of sins, then Peter is redeemed. Pope Leo has sinned; he’s human, after all. He just has to do what Peter did—love Jesus. Love him so deeply that he serves the Church and the world as Jesus would. I wouldn't want that responsibility.

Pope Leo’s two biological brothers have expressed both grief and joy. Cardinal Robert has died; Pope Leo is born. They watched him step onto that balcony and knew everything had changed. Christmas dinner? They don’t know. Easter brunch? They don’t know. If my brother David were elected pope, I don't know how I would feel.

Father Tony—the priest who confirmed me and who is dear to my heart—always says that we’re constantly dying to our old selves. There’s always a resurrection happening in our lives. The conclave is simply a larger version of that. It reminds us of the little resurrections we experience each day.

I hope Pope Leo brings hope to the world—especially to the United States. We may be the most powerful country, but morale has been low. Every day brings crazy, unwelcome news. Thankfully, we’re protesting and speaking out. That little boy who played Mass in his Chicago home is now the Pope. It’s the epitome of the extraordinary.

This election has given me hope. The world feels heavy, and I wish I could wave a magic wand to let justice and compassion rain down. The world is starving—sometimes literally—for justice. I hope Pope Leo’s soft power makes a difference. I believe it will. Whether you’re Catholic or not, I hope this moment puts a little pep in your step.

Plus, he’s from Chicago. How cool is that?