10/21/2026
What I Get to Keep
On releasing what has served its purpose, and recognizing how much stays.
This morning, I sat in my gazebo, in my quiet space, waiting for the woman who purchased the Moonglade assets to arrive and begin taking them away.
There was so much gratitude in me. There was also sadness. Heartbreak, even. I could feel the closing of this chapter before anything had left.
Moonglade would no longer exist here at my home in the way it had. I knew that. I had made the arrangements. And still, there was something about sitting there, waiting for the physical leaving, that made it real in a different way.
I wanted to capture it while I was in it. To remember that I was sad because I loved what happened here, but also that sadness was not the whole of it. The feeling at the forefront was gratitude, and a kind of awe at everything that came from a call I did not fully understand when I first followed it.
I know with certainty that God called me to create Moonglade.
At the beginning, I believed I was creating something for my community. A place where people could come to my sanctuary and experience something that supported their health and helped them feel better. And that happened. It was beautiful. We became this little community of Moongladers, and the benefits people felt, the connections they made, the impact of their time here were undeniable.
What I could not have known was how much I would need some of those same people.
There were people living in my community whose paths had never crossed mine. We had never met. I do not know whether we ever would have if Moonglade had not brought them here.
Now some of those people are among my most steadfast supporters through cancer.
They check in. They come to visit. They send DoorDash when I am in New York, finding a way to care for me even from a distance. They continue to show up in ways that have made me feel supported through something I could never have prepared for on my own.
I cannot imagine this journey without them.
When I think about that, I see a purpose in Moonglade that reaches so far beyond what I thought I was building. I believe God was preparing support for me before I knew I would need it. While I was working to create a place that could care for other people, relationships were forming that would one day help care for me.
I did not see that coming. I could not have put it into a business plan.
Today, with the physical things leaving, I keep coming back to the people.
I get to keep the people.
Selling these assets returns money I put into creating Moonglade. That money can now help support my ongoing treatment. There is something deeply meaningful in that, too. What I invested in this place is becoming available to care for me in another way.
And I get to keep everything that grew from that investment. The friendships. The care. The experience of having created something that mattered to people. Those things remain part of my life.
Even knowing that, I am sad.
I am trying to let that be okay without deciding that sadness means something has gone wrong. I can be grateful for the sale and still feel heartbroken watching this chapter close. I can trust that there is more ahead and still love what I am leaving behind.
The faith I am trying to ground myself in today is that my life is not a punishment. I do not want to understand this transition as God taking something from me, as though the ending cancels the gift. I want to leave room for the opportunity that may be opening here, even though I cannot yet tell you what it is.
I did not know everything Moonglade would become when I began. I do not have to know everything that comes after it today.
There was fear in getting it started. There were hard parts to work through, and so much I did not know how to do. I followed the call without understanding its full purpose, and it led to more goodness in my life than I could have imagined.
That is something I want to remember the next time I feel called toward something I cannot fully explain. I may understand enough to begin without understanding everything it will mean.
And I want to remember that the length of a chapter cannot tell me the whole of its value. Moonglade brought people into my life who are still showing up for me. Its impact continues, even as its presence here changes.
⸻
They have just left with the sauna and the first load. They were able to take almost everything.
They seem like a great couple. I feel reassured that they will be able to figure things out and make these things their own.
I was near tears as they left. I wasn’t trying to stop myself from crying. That was simply where the emotion sat, close to the surface.
What helps is remembering what is actually leaving.
The sauna. The hot tub. The things we used. The blue fuzzy blanket.
I am attached to those things because of what they were part of. But the essence of Moonglade was in how people felt here. It was in the experience, the care, the connection. The physical things helped create that experience, but they were never the entirety of it.
If someday I want another sauna, I can buy another sauna. Another hot tub. Another blanket. Remembering that helps me loosen my hold on these particular things. Selling them does not mean I have lost the ability to create something beautiful.
What I brought to Moonglade is still within me.
And these things have been sitting dormant here for almost a year.
Now they will be used again. They will go back to supporting people’s health, becoming part of someone’s experience of being cared for. It feels good to release them into that purpose.
I can love what they were part of without needing to keep them here forever.
That feels like part of what today is teaching me. Keeping something close is not the only way to honor what it has meant to me. Today, I can honor these things by allowing them to be useful again.
I do not have to use that understanding to talk myself out of grief. I can recognize every beautiful thing Moonglade gave me and still wish this part did not hurt. The sadness belongs here, too.
But when I look at the whole of what has happened, there is so much to be grateful for.
I see people I might never have met. I see care reaching me in New York. I see money becoming available for treatment. And now I see these things going somewhere they can serve people again.
There is so much continuing in the middle of this goodbye.
Perhaps that is the practice I want to carry forward: when something ends, to give myself room to feel what is leaving, and also take the time to recognize what remains.
Who became part of my life? What did I learn? What did I receive? What do I now know about myself because I was willing to begin?
Those things deserve a place in the story.
I know what happened here. I know the care that went into creating Moonglade, and I know the care that has come back to me through the people it brought into my life.
The sauna has left. Those relationships remain.
Somewhere else, these things will be used again, offering something good to people I may never meet.
I do not yet know what comes next for this space. Today, I am allowing myself to feel the goodbye and to be grateful for everything that made it meaningful.
I am grateful I followed the call to begin, even when I could not see everything it would mean.
And I get to keep the people.
A moment to look within
Is there something you are ready to release, even tenderly, because its purpose in your life has changed?
Alongside what you will miss, can you name what you get to keep—the relationships, the experiences, the things you learned about yourself?
What did that chapter give you that its ending cannot take away?
You do not have to be finished grieving to notice what remains.
