As I set up my calendar for the month, I select a quote I’ve found that speaks to me. I write it in my planner and leave space below it to capture phrases I hear or read that speak to me and relate to the quote. I found this practice centers me throughout the month, and helps me be more present in my conversations, meetings, and readings. For February 2026, my quote was, “What’s the invitation?”
I generally love February. A quick final blast of winter warmed by a day dedicated to love, just 28 days. This year, February froze in time, literally encapsulated in ice and glaciers. I didn’t leave my home for 14 days except to chip away at icy snow mounds around my car piled up by snowplows. The day of the week became meaningless as there was no change between them. The gray sky reflected in the dirty gray snow. I regularly scrolled the 10-day forecast on my weather app looking desperately for a day above freezing to thaw us out.
Here are the quotes, lyrics, and phrases that that caught the attention of my head and heart this month regarding “invitation”:
- We fade; We return; What strange moons we are
- End only means we have reached the limit of our ability to track what is occurring; End is the word that introduces us to an intimacy with, an anticipation of, and even a readiness for, new beginnings
- Without death, life is only half lived
- End is transition, a temporarily visible seam in the invisible
- Freedom is a radical sense of letting be and being let be
- May our world be better for your loving efforts
- The day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom
- Has it ever struck you that life is all memory, except for one present moment that goes by you so quick you hardly catch it going?
- Rest in that awe
I’m writing this on the last day of the month. The sun is bright at 8:30am. The forecast projected to be a glorious 60 degrees. I made it through.
I sit here – fingers poised over the keyboard – reflecting; bouncing back between weather and invitation, weather and invitation, weather and invitation. And what broke through that mental spin cycle were warm memories…
…Knitting a bonus blanket for a friend’s 3-year-old son after already making one for his newborn—my accompanying note inviting the 3-year-old to honor and enjoy his new title as big brother as it was a precious one (and I should know as I have the best big brother)… then days later getting a series of photo of big brother with blanket in tote all over DC.
…Inviting a neighbor and church member whose wife died just a few months ago to meet at the coffee shop one block away from us both—sharing loss, progress, laughter, and hope in the stillness of a cold early morning.
…Accepting an invitation from a coworker, now bestie, to visit her in Raliegh for a birthday/housewarming party—which the led me to invite another bestie in Raleigh to dinner; warming my heart twice as much with soulful conversations, champagne, and laughter.
…Helping mom create a Valentine to express her love to so many friends and family who’ve cheered her, comforted her, inspired her, prayed for her, laughed with her, and invited her forward through life’s complex moments.
…Texting a friend whose mother died about 4 months ago, to invite her to our “usual spot for ginger tea” and enjoying a 2.5 hour leisurely chat on all things life—a continuation of the ongoing conversation we’ve had for years now since both leaving the same company years ago.
…Responding to a besties invitation to review her new website as she prepared to relaunch her business—offering input, making edits, and celebrating all she offers leaders as a kind hearted, thoughtful, experienced, rebellious executive coach.
…Inviting my college to share the news of my grief guide certification in the next alumni newsletter, and within minutes – to my surprise – a staff member replied, “This is perfect. There are so many people who definitely can use your wonderful support and kindness.”
…Watching a 5-year-old boy invite a the coffee barista, “to see my favorite rock” … only later to have the barista come talk to me about how that child was the angel he’d needed – and prayed for – as the month had been filled with knock downs.
…Receiving an invite for brunch from a much younger college alum, befriended nearly 10 years ago, and over eggs and crispy bacon learning this once undocumented “dreamer” was now a citizen, corporate executive, community volunteer, wife, and homeowner… all because one of my friends, pulled in her friends, who pulled in their friends to support a dynamic young woman seeking a meaningful path forward.
… Reading a friend’s post inviting folks to donate to support her child’s band trip to Hershey park, and I in response ordering $120 of popcorn (which is shipping direct to my nephew) not just to fulfill the financial goal, but to support a family ensconced in fear due to transgender hate.
… Stomping my foot listening to the “Joy Factor” play live thanks to the invitation of a band member’s proud mom (my former boss and long-time friend) … original reels, waltz’s, and acoustic tunes that captured lives indelible moments.
But the most mundane and wonderous invitation came from the frozen tundra: an invitation to clean.
The icy road and ice encapsulated cars prevented our housekeeper from coming. As a result, I tackled the “deeper clean” I’d postponed for way too long. Half way through, I empty and cleaned our two book shelves, and found a book I’d given dad when I was probably 25—a Hallmark book that recorded and played back your voice. I’d forgotten about it. My heart tightened and I held my breath as I opened the book. Nothing.
I invited John to change the batteries as I continued cleaning. He cleaned off the corrosion, found new AAA batteries, and gently handed me the book. Again, I held my breath as I opened it. Nothing.
“I’m so sorry, Sweetie.” “It’s OK.” And I went on cleaning.
A bit later, after a few YouTube videos and a small piece of tin foil, John called me into the living room and said, “I don’t know if what I did will work, but I tried.” Handing me the book with an invitation to try once more.
Breath held, I opened it. There dad was singing to me, “…You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”
The invitation of love everlasting.
