‘Tis the season…. For trying to get stuff done before everyone goes on leave, for cramming in that one last meeting, discussion, or difficult conversation. For wondering how on earth we’re looking at a new year already. For simultaneously missing and longing for the magic this season once brought while enormously grateful for the reality of what is now. For looking back with grief and pride and looking ahead with questions and anticipation, for navigating the dichotomy and what feels like ridiculous extremes that somehow also coexist perfectly together. The human experience, I suppose.
Most people I know are eagerly anticipating or have already engaged in time with family, flights across an ocean or a trip down the street, complete with twinkle lights and traditions, new and old, religious celebrations and festivals, or just relief at some time away from the daily grind. I’m not doing any of those things this year, except maybe a little break from the daily grind, and I confess I feel a little bit of something, maybe guilt or shame, about the fact that I’m not sad about it.
I’ve started and stopped writing this at least a dozen times in the last few weeks. This season once held so much majesty, wonder, awe, love, excitement, hope, darkness, light, anticipation, joy, and peace, and I felt all those things deeply. This year, if I’m honest, I’m feeling a mix of exhaustion and relief and contentedness… and peace, I guess, in the lack of depth of any other of the deep things I feel like I ‘should’ be experiencing. But as I sit with it, and sit with words, and try to identify what this all is…. Maybe I’m recognizing the gift that is just… peace, while surrounded by such extremes.
Covid is spiking everywhere. Nearly two years of loss and it just keeps piling on. Political division keeps getting impossibly louder and even more insistent and disgusting. Family members aren’t speaking to each other. I love my job, it’s a dream, but it’s also sucking me completely dry right now, with one unexpected curveball after another. My longing to do this well is fogged up with an objectively ridiculous yet insistent dread in the pit of my stomach that I’m making the world worse instead of better. Horrific news stories seem to be a daily punch in the gut and I often find myself wondering how much more we, the collective, can take.
But then in the flip of a switch I feel overwhelmed with gratitude when I consider all the good I’ve been surrounded with this year. I look down the hallway towards my husband and I can’t even believe, still, that he said yes and we get to wander through life together, forever. To be loved and cherished and to love and to cherish is just… so much. Words fail. I’m so grateful. I’ve got my dream job, I live in an incredible place, my family is coming to visit in a few months. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been, physically and professionally, I’ve learned so much, and the future holds so much possibility.
So instead of profound words or magical holiday experiences, instead of being caught up in the extremes of the human experience this year, I’m finding myself just grateful for a few days of relaxing close to home, and being okay with the fact that the only holiday décor I have is the Santa shirt I put on Jay. Maybe someday this season will feel magical again, but actually whatever this is? Peace, contentedness, rest, love? it’s pretty awesome.
May Peace find you wherever you find yourself this holiday season.
Let us begin 