Handprints on my heart . . .

My daughter and I saw Wicked: For Good the weekend it opened. “Defying Gravity” has always been my theme song from the musical, but this time I walked away thinking less about soaring and more about being grounded. Focusing on the people who have left handprints on my heart. Who has helped me grow into the person I am today? Who has stood beside me in the messiness of my life? Who has shown up when I needed them most?
 

As I incubated this story, I realized just how many people have touched my life. I could never do justice to all of them. Teachers from grade school through college, friends from every chapter of my life, family, therapists, and the many clients who allowed me to walk with them on their healing journeys. Still, this reflection feels important, especially as we close out a year that has been anything but ordinary and begin anew.
 

So here goes.
 

There was Mrs. Steinberg, my first-grade teacher, who taught me to trust myself. Ms. Brown, in fifth grade, challenged me to think fast and think big. Mr. Brodsky, my sixth-grade teacher, gave me permission to play. Mr. Wheeler, my high school history teacher, opened my eyes to peace and non-violence. Bob Nash, my college professor, who helped me heal a broken heart. My cousin Barbara, gone too soon, but not before she made me feel seen and special. My dad, who always believed in me. My mom, who passed on the gift of creativity. My brother Mike, who always helps me find the humor in every situation.
 

There is Mitch Lyons, who allowed me to find my authentic artistic voice. Alison Lee, who held up a mirror so I could see my expertise as a couple’s therapist. There are my cherished friends—Nan, Cherie, Caroline, Sarah, Abby, and Jill—who wrapped their arms around me and held me up when I could not stand on my own. My children, Sarah and Alex, who bring me comfort simply by being who they are. And my partner Jude, who taught me how to love and be loved in a whole new language, who brings joy, laughter and safety into my life almost every single day.
 

Who can say if these handprints on my heart have changed me for the better. I may never know. But I do know, with absolute certainty, that they have changed me for good. And in the end, that’s what matters. Aren’t we all better when we lift one another up?