Because of 2020

Because of 2020, I hold community close. I linger in conversation and settle deep into moments of connection. I write letters, send texts, type emails. I strive to maintain connection and dig deeper to find it. I have learned the rich treasure—the necessity– of friendship.

Because of 2020, I appreciate health. Not perfect health (chronic illness has precluded that) but moments of health. Moments of wellness, even in the midst of sickness. I have learned to make choices that strengthen my body: choosing healthy foods, getting exercise, finding rest. I have learned to pause when the pain eases and the breathing grows easier to savor and celebrate the reprieve.

Because of 2020 my children have learned that life does not need to be perfect to be good. That joy can be found (perhaps more often) in the broken and unsettled, and not only in the calm and easy. In the struggle of this year, they are learning to suffer well, to hold the tension of the unfinished together with the hope of wholeness.

Because of 2020, I have peace as my children enter adolescence. We have lived fully in these months and invested deeply. In the long pause and the absence of outside voices, we’ve planted seeds of wisdom and showered them in love. They will burst from this season like bulbs planted deep through the winter months, and they will flourish.

Because of 2020, I see differences not as barriers or dividing lines, but as facets of a multifaceted God, beautiful parts of a diverse and wildly varied world. I am discovering that I do not need to look or believe or live like someone else to feel the beat of their heart. We are one, knit together by far more than our differences can tear apart.

Because of 2020, I know that my peace is not dependent on politicians, laws, businesses, or traditional holiday celebrations. It is not as fragile as I once believed. Rather, it’s anchored in something more stable and unchanging than this world can ever hope to be.  My peace can survive in the face of pandemic, political unrest, and any other storm this side of Heaven.

Because of 2020, I know there is still good in the world. I have watched as heroes have risen: nurses, respiratory therapists, doctors, teachers, supermarket employees, pastors, and first responders. I have seen ordinary people bringing meals, sending letters, and using their boundless creativity to lighten the load of a hurting soul. In the darkness of this year, there is reason for hope.

As I look back on 2020, it will be with a heart that is heavy. This year has taken so much from us all. But even in the darkness of its shadow and the uncertainty of 2021, there is good. In every dark place, we learn to grow. We learn to shine our light just a little brighter. We learn to sink our roots more deeply into the soil that feeds us. 2020 has given us far more than it ever could have taken. And we are better people, stronger people, for having lived it.