I ended 2020 quite differently from the optimistic way I had started the year.
On Wednesday, January 1st 2020 I woke up energized and excited by the prospects of this new year, and all that I anticipated was to come. My husband, Phillip, and I headed out that morning to sit in a coffee shop and take some time to ourselves, to dream for the year ahead and journal what we felt was on our hearts - spiritually, mentally, emotionally and physically. There was so much hope and newness that month, and we were spilling over with joy as we headed into it.
The next time I sat and opened that journal was today, Sunday January 3rd, 2021.
Last year did in fact bring us deep joy as we welcomed our firstborn son, Freedom Alexander, into the world on February 12th. I have never felt such joy, boundless love and deep pride as I do when I look into his cute face. We also moved into a new home at the very start of the year after over two years of constantly moving around and yearning for a place to call our own.
Freedom and his Grandparents.
There was so much hope, and so much promise.
Now as I sit and reflect on this past year, it is with tears building just below my throat and a heart that is weary and vulnerable. I find that I am my most honest and clear minded when I am writing, the most in tune with how I really feel and think. So welcome to my process. I can’t promise where I’ll conclude but hopefully some good will come through these words.
People will be telling stories, writing songs and creating movies for decades to come about this past year. Everyone’s experience has been felt a little differently, their perspective nuanced depending on how close pain’s shadow came to their household. And in the midst of all the fires, beauty could also be seen and felt; babies were still being born; joy was still boldly pressing on.
My 2020 ended with a crash that not many beyond Phillip were even aware of. It was an internal falling apart that left me worn out and angry. I still am a little bit.
My personality is one which thrives in helping others. I can’t help myself asking, ‘what do you need?’ or ‘how can I help?’ when I even have the smallest sense that someone is not a 100%. There is definitely a lot to be appreciated in this but my weakness is that I can lose myself in those questions. I get consumed with the needs of others - those I am close with as well as the hurting cries of the wider world. The initial throes of crises actually leave me feeling energized as I pour myself out with comfort, care plans, practical help and endless prayers. Then, inevitably, the crash comes as the adrenaline wears off and the initial fuel of imminent needs putters out.
Of course the key to overcoming those unhealthy cycles is to begin by not falling into the trap of believing that you are everyone’s personal saviour. It looks like not saying yes to everything and everyone, and allowing yourself to be cared for before extending that to every hand reaching out.
I know the keys, the tricks, the tools and how-to’s. But 2020.
It was craziness after craziness but onwards we plodded and for the most part I was ok. Then we reached the Fall and everything within me just started screaming, ‘NO!!’ No more Zoom, no more distance and restrictions, no more political expressions of church, no more platforms and three point sermons, no more striving, no more fakeness and deception, no more religious language to cover up oppression, no more strategies instead of relationships. NO MORE!
I hit my limit and rather than hitting it and moving on, I stayed. I couldn’t move myself forward, but rather I found myself stuck. I was going through the motions and doing all the things but I didn’t feel connected. Instead I felt angry. Angry at all the injustice, the lack of real change, the continual stream of disappointment, the pain of words spoken by friends, the hypocrisy of the Church, the corruption of our systems and the realization that what you once saw as good maybe is not so.
I probably spent a solid week being truly angry, and then the Christmas lights and mulled wine began to soften my prickles and warm me up to the holiday season, albeit different looking from how I had dreamt that it would be. 2021 crept in after Christmas Day and I have found myself slowly beginning to thaw. Hope has been returning to my heart, like a battery on slow charge. A fresh measurement of time is stretched before us and with it the invitation of grace. Like a permission slip to dream, I have found my heart gradually returning to life, revisiting those things which cause passion to burn and an easy laugh to be close to my lips. My metamorphosis of healing is hardly complete, but as each day dawns it feels a little closer and the future a little brighter.
On Friday, January 1st 2021 I woke up energized and hopeful once again for this new year, and all that I anticipate is to come.
