I have felt for a long time that I have things I need to say publicly, mostly for my own processing, but for so long, the words have not come. Maybe my mind has been too full of other things.
Today, January 1, 2021, somehow still feels hopeful, and it makes me a little annoyed. It doesn't seem like it should feel hopeful. In many ways, 2020 was truly revolting. Put aside the typical, "Covid, quarantine, wearing masks all the time" that all of us faced, and I still see so much hurt and brokenness when I look back on our year. For probably a few weeks now, I've been thinking, "I don't have anything to celebrate from 2020." Quite melancholy of me, but when you have two family members die within a month of each other at the end of the year, those thoughts come easily.
This morning as I spent some much-needed time adoring the Father, I finally allowed Him to reach my heart with truth. There is so much beauty that can come, and will come, from this pain. Though Casey and I are deep in grief, and will be for quite some time, that does not mean there cannot be beauty and life and hope and peace.
I must admit, it is occasionally really difficult for me as an Enneagram 4 to keep myself from wallowing in the depth of my emotions. It feels nice to wallow and be really, really sad sometimes. It feels relieving, somehow, to find myself "in the depths of despair", as our dear Anne-girl says... Just to fully embrace it and live in it. And while I think there is a time and place for that, I must remind myself that most of my emotions are (at least) two-sided. While I am hurt, I hope. While I am sad, I have joy. While I am afraid, I love. Not allowing myself to feel the sunny side of those deep, dark emotions is robbing myself of the gifts God has for me in the valley.
While I grieve Mrs. Leigh Ann, I think of how hilariously she would react if she had seen what we made her Christmas tree look like this year, and I have to celebrate how special she made Christmas. While I miss her, I have to reminisce on our final Disney trip together last year and how we belted Disney songs in the car on the way there, and how we took turns pushing her wheelchair through the crowds and took advantage of how they would always send us to the front of the line on rides with her. While I wonder what our future will look like without her, I have to remember how much hope she had for our future- our careers, our future kids, our family vacations.
While I grieve Mamaw Scitzs, I remember baking and decorating Christmas cookies with her last year, and that she gave me recipe cards in her handwriting of her cookie and icing recipes, and how that will be my favorite gift she ever gave me. While I miss her, I recall our many nights playing cards and trivia around the kitchen table, and how warm and loving her hugs were. While I wonder what parts of her I am carrying on in our family, I think about how she loved singing and serving and cooking and we all adored her for it.
All these things, every memory of them that swirls around in my head, reminds me of the complexity of life and emotion, and what a gift it is to loved by someone for every minute they know you.
I told God recently that I knew there were gifts to be found in the darkness, but I did not feel like searching for them, so He would have to show them to me if He wanted me to find them... and I think He is. When I look back over this year of isolation, I think about the many phone calls and facetimes and virtual family game nights we would never have had without it. When I look back on a year of change, I think of the gift that was a beautiful church and city and friend group that I treasure now more than I did when I lived with them. When I look back to my hopes and goals for 2020, I slowly realize that I can check off every single box.
I didn't know then the darkness and hurt that the year would bring, but God did. In our year of uncertainty, I became more certain of Him and His care for me. In our year of scary things, I said yes to Him and found He took the fear away every time. Sara Hagerty says, "The fight against fear is a lifetime commitment to growth in communing with God. Trust is birthed and grows as we face our fears and turn to Him... Fear wants to steal what God gives. Fear can be a barrier to communion, or our communion can dispel our fear". It's difficult to face many of my fears coming to realization, and to somehow keep hoping for the next step. It would be easier to give in to the fear and harbor it. However, every time I have harbored my fear this year, it has become a barrier in my life. But when I turned to look at Him in the midst of my fear? "The things of earth {grew} strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace."
If you, too, have had a year of loss and hurt and fear, I hope you turn to Him. He is the best at holding it, not dismissing your emotion, but showing you the other side of it-- the excitement, peace, and stability it can bring when you process it and trust His leading. Today, I am celebrating some small things despite the darkness that is lurking:
- I memorized my first chapter of the Bible this year and God has buried it in my heart and used it time and again to minister to me.
- I read some really good books this year even though I did not meet my meager goal of 20 books
- I spent a lot of time with Casey and have never liked/loved him more than I do now
- I built up some friendships and maintained some friendships and lost some friendships, and all of those things feel right
- God gave us a new city, new home, and new jobs in the middle of a pandemic, and we love it more than we hoped we might
- I discovered the longwalks app and have been mindfully journalling with friends and it's been lovely
There is good around the corner, friends. Even in the pain. Even in darkness. Even in death. God is holding 2021 and leading us along.
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some song lyrics that keep coming to mind:
"God leads his dear children along- some through the waters, some through the flood, some through the fire, but all through the blood. Some through great sorrow, but God gives a song in the night season and all the day long."
"after all this has passed, I still will remain. after I've cried my last, there'll be beauty from pain. though it won't be today, someday I'll hope again, and there'll be beauty from pain. You will bring beauty from my pain."
"Be still, my soul, when dearest friends depart, and all is darkened in the vale of tears- then shall you better know His love, His heart, who comes to soothe your sorrow and your fears. Be still, my soul, your Jesus can repay from His own fullness all He takes away."
"I will build my life upon Your love, it is a firm foundation. I will put my trust in You alone, and I will not be shaken."
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