About Me:

Aloha! I'm Wendy Kennar. I'm the mother of a seven-year-old son and a wife living in Los Angeles. I was a public school teacher for twelve years until a chronic medical condition made it necessary to leave my teaching career.

I've always been described as "quiet" - really, I'm just biting my tongue. I've got lots to say, and lots of thoughts to share, I just prefer to write them. That's the purpose of this blog. Each Wednesday, I post a personal essay offering my observations and thoughts.

A few fun facts about me: I've wanted to be a writer since second grade, when my teacher, Mrs. Jones, made me a "book" with a yellow construction paper cover. I have never learned to whistle, have always preferred sunflowers to roses, and have spent my life living within the same zip code.

Through the years, my writing has been published in the Los Angeles Times, Christian Science Monitor, United Teacher, GreenPrints, L.A. Parent, DivineCaroline.com, RoleReboot.org, XOJane, and Brain, Child Magazine. Additionally, my personal essays have been included in several anthologies, including: The Barefoot Review, Beyond the Diaper Bag, Lessons From My Parents, Write for Light, Being a Grown-Up: A User's Manual for the Real World, Ka-Pow!, How Writing Can Get You Through Tough Times, Breath and Shadow, The Grey Wolfe Storybook, and Sisters Born, Sisters Found.
I am a regular contributor at MomsLA.com, and you can also find me at Goodreads.

Thanks for stopping by and reading my blog. Feel free to comment and share my blog with others!

Wednesday, March 21, 2012


           Wintering is a time of waiting.  Waiting to see what survives;  what will thrive from what’s been left behind.  Wintering is a time for discovering the beauty that exists in the quiet, in what remains.  

   I think much of my teenage years and early adult years were spent in a period of waiting.  Working and studying, and waiting for the time when I could do what I really wanted to do.  And, it doesn’t always feel like much has changed.

   The older I get though, the more I seem to question things, question myself, and question my choices.  And instead of taking action, I wait to see how things will play out.  I’m not quite sure that’s such a good thing.  I fear that all my wintering will strip me of who I am, and I’ll lose sight of what I really want.  

   I wait for relationships to heal, for a phone call to end the silence that has stretched between my brother and I for over ten years.  I wait for my sister and I to regain the closeness we shared as little girls who called each other “Best Friends.” 

   I wait to feel pleasure again in my career.  Teaching used to be fun and exhausting, exhilarating and demanding.  And I loved it.  I don’t anymore.  I can’t teach grammar, long division, and California history in the midst of chaos caused by thirty-plus children who need lessons in respect and compassion, manners and tolerance.  

  Sometimes my life feels like a test.  How much can I handle and how well can I handle it?  The answer remains to be seen, and sometimes I feel more up for the challenge than others.
   The pink flowering blooms are blown off a tree on a neighbor’s front yard, but the strong trunk remains.  That tree is grounded, it’s got a solid foundation, and I know I do too.  I’ve got to wait it out.  Take stock of what it is I can change, what I can’t change and will accept as is, and what I can no longer tolerate.

   Winter can be a time of great desolation, sadness, and loneliness.  And that’s okay.  

   But, there’s a flip side.  Wintering is also a time of renewal; a chance to hibernate and recharge.  A chance for me to take stock of my life, to inventory of what I want to keep, what I want to change, and what I need to let go.

   Things I waited for haven’t turned out the way I thought they would.  Teaching was supposed to be the career I’d retire from.  Now, I worry how I’ll make it to June.   My siblings were supposed to be my constant source of comfort not pain.

   In the quiet of this wintering stage, I can pause and reflect on the many blessings that do fill my life (a ten-year-plus friendship with a former co-worker), the happy surprises (discovering my favorite local-vacation spot along California’s central coast), the evolution of my life (I’m a mother).  

   And, life will go on.  Seasons will change.  Bits of me will too.   


  1. It kills me to know that you are in constant pain for almost 2 years and dealing with all the different doctor's,tests,and medications.I pray you will soon be pain free.It also kills me to think how the relationship or lack of relationship with your sister and brother is NONE(this is something as a mother I would have never thought would take place).I feel anyone who knows you is lucky to have you in their lives and the ones who have decided to omit you from their lives are really loosing out on a WONDERFUL person.You are truly a WONDERFUL person and I know things haven't turned out exactly as you would like,but never loose sight of the difference you are making with your students(even though you don't always see it),you are a FANTASTIC mother and Ryan loves you so and he is one lucky little boy to have you for his mommy,you are a WONDERFUL wife and I feel Paul has turned out the way he has do to the love and devotion you have given him.I feel blessed to have you for my daughter and friend.You are a daughter every parent can be proud of.I love you and I am so proud of you.

  2. Life is a mystery. As Forrest Gump says "Life is like a bunch of chocolates, you never know what your going to get". I have learned that you must please your Family members and yourself. You are a remarkable person. You have a remarkable son. Your Mother & I are proud of you.

    Love, Dad

  3. Honey,
    This essay is an amazing reflection on the stages of life we go through. You are an incredible woman and I am so lucky to have found you! We will continue together through the journeys in life and many great things will be renewed and strengthened. Your intelligence, strength, love, and caring ways inspire me everyday. I Love You with all of my heart!
    Love, Paul