Best Laid Plans
No change. Our 2020 New Year’s resolution was simple: no change. After big changes happening every year since for the past, well, seemingly every year, Mark and I were ready for a calm, low-key, predictable year. We would grow within our current situations. Mark would gain job responsibilities, demanding more business travel. I would work to expand the stationery business I had just founded. We’d stay in our quaint 1,000 square-foot rancher. Childcare would be the same. And we certainly wouldn’t try for another kid. We would reevaluate everything on January 1st, 2021.
We had a great plan!
...had.
But instead of “no change,” we were served up “infinitely more than we could ask or imagine.” I’m borrowing that line from “The Book of Common Prayer,” a centuries-old collection of Christian liturgical practices and prayers because, religious or not, it sums up 2020 pretty damn well. This past year was “infinitely more than we could ask or imagine” for me, for Mark, for Teddy, and, I’m guessing, for you, too.
So go ahead, fill in the blank: “This year has been infinitely more ____________ than I could have asked for or imagined.” Oh, you’d rather I go first? Sure, no problem.
This past year has been infinitely more good than I could have asked for or imagined. Not in the falsely felt, half-assed, slightly self-oppressive manner of “oh, gotta have gratitude no matter what” kinda way. 2020 was honestly, truthfully, more full of expected goodness than I could have ever dreamed up. We had the opportunity to spend more time together as a nuclear family because all Mark’s business travel was canceled (and because, well, stay-at-home orders meant we pretty much just stayed at home.) I discovered the clarity and confidence to start pursuing my writing career. Our nanny had a baby! Teddy started daycare and established an entire possy of new besties within 48 hours. We moved exactly 0.8 miles to a bigger space, thereby saving our sanity–and marriage–in more ways than one. We didn’t intentionally try for another offspring, but she’s coming in or around March 2021! Oh, and Mark learned to make an A+ omelet. 2020 was infinitely more good than I could have imagined.
Zoom gender reveal party for baby #2!
This past year has also been infinitely more WTF than I could have asked for or imagined. WTF, global pandemic! WTF paralyzing fear of the unknown terrorizing every single person on this planet. WTF with small business, especially restaurants, being thrown into unprecedented times, spelling hardship for all and complete closures for many. WTF wildfires that ravaged the West Coast. WTF with the need to still be fighting towards racial and social equality; WTF the intense realization of how insanely divided our “united” nation remains. WTF, crazy election. WTF cancel culture. And a big WTF to the ugly, nasty ways hate for other humans showed up in such big, public ways. WTF, 2020.
Insane wildfire smoke made our skies deep, sepia orange for an entire day. This picture was taken at noon on September 9.
But, more than anything, this unforgettable year has been infinitely more revelatory in our need for human healing than we could have ever asked for or imagined.
Photo credit: Amber Kip via Unsplash.com
Before we could admit to needing healing, we had to first become strikingly aware of our collective brokenness. This brokenness came rushing with force to our society’s forefront in 2020. Strong divides became stronger, wider, more dissonant because of differences in race, religion, or political views. Hate was everywhere. And alongside the hate, incredible pain.
Then alongside the ugliness and the pain came something beautiful: a deep desire for healing. But, how? We know. Deep down, we know. We just don’t do it. We, as a human race, silently ask for this remedy every moment of every day. It’s part of our deepest longings. It’s what, if we just stopped, slowed down, and looked at one another as we see ourselves, we’d be ferociously clambering for, fighting to get at it for the person standing next to us just as much as we want it for ourselves. What is it? It’s love.
We need infinitely more love for our fellow humans. Through love, we can fix our collective brokenness. Through love, we will heal.
I’m not saying it’s easy. And I’m not saying it’s the solution in every situation. Love is not a tangible solution for physical protection; when your life is in immediate danger, absolutely find safety. If someone is harming you, put boundaries in place to protect yourself. Love is not the short-term solution when imminent violence is erupting around you.
Friend, loving others is a long-term kind of commitment, a time-consuming process. It’s lengthy. It’s hard. And it is so worth it. The radical shift from brokenness towards healing happens when we stop seeing others and as wholly different and we start seeing them as 100% fully human, worthy of my love simply because they are human. They are as human as I am. They are as human as you are. They are as in need of being doused with deep, true, honest love as you. (As me.)
And even though loving won’t change the hateful actions or dark parts in everyone else, loving changes me. Rather than being anxious with hate, I am calm and confident and courageously filled with this love for my fellow humans. I am bold. I am determined to unearth the beauty, the joy, the goodness in being human. From there, I can start confidently building or rebuilding relationships, growing and strengthening my community, healing our human brokenness one little piece at a time.
So, while I went into 2020 with a firm resolution for “no change,” I’ve come out the other end with perhaps the biggest change of all: a change of heart. We all need infinitely more love than we could have asked or imagined. And I’m in. I’m committed to that difficult, confusing, frustratingly beautiful life-long journey of loving others. Are you?
Even if you’re not convinced, know this: you are loved. You are worthy of love. You are more than enough. Don’t let anyone else tell you differently. I love you.
And that’s something worth taking into 2021.
