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?

The Big Apple

I felt the sunshine on my arms while we waited for a New York taxi outside JFK airport. It was the end of April and the weather was wonderful. I needed an accessible vehicle, which actually wasn’t a big deal. The city we had just landed in happened to be very accessible, which makes my life exponentially easier. Mom, Dad, and David were with me and we were going to be there for two days.

            JFK airport seemed as massive as Ohare which we had flown out of. There were fountains with water in different colors as water sprayed up and down. David had talked to the guy at the taxi service. My brother set us up for success already telling the guy we needed the taxi to be ready for a wheelchair.

            After checking into our hotel in Manhattan, we had dinner and went straight to bed knowing that we had a packed schedule the next day.

The first thing on our agenda when we woke was to visit to The Morgan Library and Museum. They had an exhibit on Belle da Costa Greene. Thanks to ChatGPT, I was able to get a succinct summary of her life. Here’s a little overview:

Belle da Costa Greene (1879–1950) was a prominent American librarian who managed and expanded J.P. Morgan’s private collection into a world-class public library. Born to African American parents, she passed as white to succeed in a racially segregated society. Known for her expertise in rare books and illuminated manuscripts, she became the first director of the Morgan Library and transformed it into a major cultural institution. Despite her public success, she kept her racial identity secret and destroyed her personal papers before her death.

Belle's Desk

I read The Personal Librarian in January and ended up asking my parents if we could go to NYC to see the exhibit. I loved it and would recommend any book about her, especially The Personal Librarian. It’s historical fiction, and the authors do an excellent job of telling her story.

The museum was gorgeous with artifacts of Belle's life on display from photographs of her
parents and the desk she used while working at the museum. All of the objects were incredible to see in person.

After that outstanding exhibit, we headed to The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. He’s my favorite late-night talk show host. His dry wit makes me laugh out loud.

When we arrived, my dad asked the staff if all four of us could go in instead of just David and me. I had only managed to get two tickets. Those of you who know my father know he could persuade a turtle to walk quickly. Wearing a polo shirt and gladiator sunglasses, the ticket guy quickly agreed. The website made it seem impossible, but realistically, it was no problem. This is why we still need people—not just computers—running things.

The Colbert show was great but had some issues. He interviewed a CNN anchor who was fine, but the celebrity guest was supposed to be Will Ferrell. We were super excited! Colbert came on stage, graciously took some questions, and then quickly told us that Will Ferrell had canceled. In my opinion, that’s incredibly rude. If 200 people are expecting you, you show up! I don’t care if everyone knows your name—keep your commitments. Colbert still did his monologue, took questions for 20 minutes because of the no show by Ferrell, and then he went into his interview.

When the show aired that night, Will Ferrell was on and Colbert was in a different suit while he and Ferrell joked around. Something happened. Just saying. Also, Colbert could have been more gracious and explained the cancellation thoroughly. If you’re the face of the show, you’re responsible for everything that happens. You have to man up and explain why your show isn’t as advertised. He just ran off stage after announcing the cancellation. I call that cowardly. The show was entertaining even without Ferrell, and I would recommend going. Just don’t expect transparency if things go wrong.

New York was absolutely wonderful. I’m so grateful my family turned it into a vacation—we had a blast. The Big Apple truly is the perfect place for a quick, unforgettable escape.

Caregiver Turned Friend

“Hi, Hannah,” Kate yelled as she closed the front door.

This was our last day together. I had known this day was coming since I interviewed her. Kate had graduated from nursing school back in May and was looking for nursing jobs in the months ahead. Typically, this is a situation I try to avoid because it means finding another caregiver a few months later, but she was able to work on weekends, and I knew she was fun and reliable. It turned out she was ridiculously reliable—she covered for five days straight when another caregiver tested positive for COVID. I didn’t regret hiring her… not once!

Peering into my office, she said, “I’ll be on the couch until you’re ready.”

That’s a seasoned caregiver. She knows I’m finishing up and chills out until I need her.

After pressing Save in Microsoft Word, I pressed the lever to turn on my wheelchair with my right palm. Grabbing my joystick, I rolled into the living room.

“Hey! How are you?” I asked.

“Sad. I’m going to miss you.” Kate said as she stood up from the couch.

You have no idea, Kate.

“I’ll miss you so much. But for now, I need to go to the bathroom.” Sometimes Mother Nature has a way of pushing along sentimental moments.

Kate and I did our thing in the restroom.

“Let’s get going. I don’t want to be late.”

“Yep,” she said.

I was going to a church retreat for middle school students. Kevin, my longtime friend and mentor, had asked me to help out. I was happy to help. Readers, you may remember this as the presentation where my communication device bonked out last year, and my speech therapist had to run and give me her device.

Kevin texted, “Is the communication device working?”

I replied, “All systems go.”

“OK, Star Trek,” Kevin texted back.

Kevin is always making jokes. I love that about him.

We arrived at the church 40 minutes later. I walked into the very large gym.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“Good. How are you?”

“Good.” Turning to Kate, he said, “And you are…?”

“Kate.”

Kate and Kevin exchanged pleasantries. After that, Kevin and I introduced ourselves as the speakers. My presentation was on joy vs. happiness. Here’s a little excerpt:

“Joy and happiness are two different things. First, joy is a choice. We can choose God, and He gives us joy. Remaining in a state of joy includes staying in conversation with God and looking for the people who help in difficult situations. It’s understanding that bad things in life happen, and we can decide what our hearts and minds are going to focus on. On the opposite end of the spectrum, happiness is fleeting. It’s an emotion. Emotions come and go; they are not stable. God’s presence, however, is very stable. It’s always available. Reasons to be happy are fleeting.”

You get the gist of what I said. The kids were great and asked a lot of questions.

Then Kevin took over. He did team building activities after my speech.

Kate and I left the church, and since we were celebrating her last day, she got to pick the place for dinner. She chose an Italian restaurant nearby. We had a lovely meal together.

One of her favorite things to do with me was making greeting cards for the kids in my family. I loved her enthusiasm for making each card unique. Kate had met two out of the five kids in my extended family. She picked up the unicorn card.

“Aviva?” she asked. Aviva is my god daughter. Kate quickly learned that she loved unicorns at her birthday party.

I nodded.

It’s little things like that I miss about seasoned caregivers. They know the tiny details that make up my life, and it’s hard when they leave. It’s nice not to have to explain every detail to yet another caregiver.

Once those cards were finished, we made a video of how she does my ponytail. She’s 5’0”, so she uses a stepstool. Check out the video here: http://bit.ly/3DYH9CC

We were in the middle of my bedtime routine when Kate offered to bring her boyfriend by the next day to treat me to Starbucks.

Heck yes!

Since our last day, we’ve absolutely seen each other and continue to. Are all caregivers like this? Absolutely not. However, some caregivers do turn into really good friends.

I’m blessed.

Signing off, 

Hannah!