In this personal reflection, I trace the journey from loss and rebuilding to an unexpected realization: how recently women gained the legal right to financial independence. Through my experience as a widow holding a mortgage in my own name, I explore the intersection of personal history, women’s rights, and unfinished progress. While acknowledging how far we’ve come, I examine persistent gender inequities in pay, leadership, and opportunity—and issue a call to ensure that progress does not slip backward for future generations.

In Time or Money?, Bethanne reflects on how choices around saving time versus saving money have shifted across different seasons of her life. Drawing from lean years of marriage, parenting, and her current life as a retired widow, she explores how “return on investment” isn’t always measured in dollars — sometimes it’s sanity, health, peace of mind, or future freedom. Through everyday examples like house cleaning, school lunches, health goals, and paying down a mortgage, she shows how priorities evolve and invites readers to consider how they weigh time and money in their own lives.

A former teacher reflects on a surprising life lesson learned from a quiet sixth grader’s presentation on how to clean. What begins as practical, simple cleaning steps turns into a deeper realization about order, presence, and love. Through routine tasks and daily habits, the author discovers that the messes she once complained about were actually signs of a full, loving home—and learns to see cleaning not just as a chore, but as a reminder of what once was and what still matters.

When the vet tells Bethanne to walk her daughter’s overweight chihuahua, it turns into something much deeper than a fitness routine. In this reflective and gently humorous piece, she explores how pets quietly support us through grief, loneliness, and life transitions—and how a simple daily walk becomes an act of shared healing.

Learning something new later in life comes with its own challenges—and its own freedoms. In The Learning Curve, a former teacher reflects on what it means to be a beginner again, navigating technology, creativity, and self-doubt as a retired widow. This post offers gentle encouragement to slow down, release the pressure of mastery, and rediscover learning as something done not for approval, but for joy. Lifelong learning isn’t about keeping up—it’s about staying curious, connected, and fulfilled.

A simple kitchen struggle with dull knives becomes a powerful reminder of the importance of renewal. Through memories, reflection, and Stephen Covey’s “Sharpen the Saw,” this post explores why stepping back to care for our physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being isn’t indulgent—it’s essential. Sometimes, making life safer and easier begins by pausing long enough to sharpen the tools we rely on most, including ourselves.

In this deeply honest reflection, Bethanne shares the quiet exhaustion of widowhood—of being the “rock” when you feel anything but strong. Sometimes It’s Just Too Much explores grief, responsibility, faith, and resilience in uncertain times, offering comfort to widows who are learning how to keep going even when the weight feels overwhelming.

After losing her husband of nearly thirty-five years, Bethanne faced widowhood, retirement, declining health, and the profound loss of identity that often follows life-altering change. The Retired Widow was born from her journey of grief, healing, and renewal. Through honest storytelling and lived experience, Bethanne offers connection, encouragement, and hope to widows navigating life’s transitions—embracing each new season with grit, grace, and gratitude.

This new year, I’m setting aside resolutions and choosing one simple habit: living my authentic life. That means fewer “shoulds,” a little more grace, quieter noise, and lots more love and gratitude. I’m taking life one small, intentional choice at a time—no perfection required, just a willing heart and room to breathe.

This post reflects on an unexpectedly difficult holiday season and the quiet realization that something needed to change. Through the symbolism of an undecorated Christmas tree, it explores exhaustion, emotional overwhelm, and the pressure to keep going through the motions. Rather than resolutions, it embraces the idea of a personal reset—choosing authenticity, rest, and control over what truly matters, and letting go of perfection, noise, and expectations that no longer serve

In this reflective Christmas essay, Bethanne writes honestly about navigating the holidays as a retired widow five years after losing her husband. She explores the loneliness, relief, guilt, and quiet contentment that can coexist during special days, rejecting the pressure to perform grief—or joy—according to expectations. Through simple moments, gentle humor, and hard-earned perspective, she offers reassurance to others living through loss: survival doesn’t have to look like a Hallmark movie. It can look like pajamas, a small ham in the oven, and the courage to live authentically.

Reflecting on decades of careful financial choices, the author explores the familiar anxiety that arises each Christmas—even without debt. Drawing on memories of lean years, generational values shaped by the Great Depression, and a marriage built on shared priorities rather than material gifts, she recognizes that panic often overshadows gratitude. On December 22, surrounded by family, food, and love, she reminds herself—and readers—that true abundance lies not in what remains in a bank account, but in appreciating what we already have and sharing those blessings with others.

On her birthday, the author reflects not on celebration, but on growth—examining motherhood, grief, friendship, health, and the courage to step outside her comfort zone. Through honest self-assessment and quiet determination, she recommits to becoming better, staying present, and creating community for widows who need to feel seen, heard, and valued.

The holidays have a way of pulling us out of our routines, and this post is an honest look at how easily order can slip into chaos—even in a space we love. I share how my office became a mess, the perfectly human reasons behind it, and the reminder that setbacks don’t define us. With grace, self-compassion, and a willingness to start again, even the most overwhelming mess can be handled—one small step at a time.

As Advent’s theme of Peace arrives, The Retired Widow reflects on sacred traditions, the rise of commercial Advent calendars, and how to embrace Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love through meaningful acts of generosity.

There are eight daily activities that Bethanne tries to complete every day. This blog is an outline she uses to maintain physical and mental health.

A heartfelt reminder to care for your health with small steps, daily habits, and gentle consistency—especially after the holidays. Your well-being matters.

 Procrastination can quietly steal our peace, especially for widows rebuilding life after loss. In this heartfelt reflection, learn how fear, grief, and avoidance show up—and discover empowering questions and actionable steps to help you move forward with clarity, purpose, and confidence.

Winter in the South is unpredictable—one day it’s 80°F, the next we’re bundled up like Ralphie’s little brother from A Christmas Story just to take out the trash. In this Southern winter reflection, I explore warm-weather winters, seasonal shifts, and what “winter is coming” truly means for women navigating life changes, personal growth, and cozy seasonal routines. If you’ve ever wondered what winter really looks like below the Mason-Dixon line—or how to prepare for the emotional seasons of life—this thoughtful, humorous take is for you.

If overwhelm had a face, it would look like a gremlin tearing through my holiday to-do list with sticky fingers and zero remorse. So this year, I’m fighting back — with boundaries, deep breaths, and the magical power of saying “no.” Because overwhelmed women everywhere deserve peace, joy, and maybe a nap. (Overwhelm relief tips for women, holiday stress solutions, and widow wellness insights inside!)