It Was A Year
“We bless this year for all we learned,
For all we loved and lost
And for the quiet way it brought us
Nearer to our invisible destination.”
I don’t see many blessings bestowed upon 2020. Instead, I’ve seen a lot of cursing and yearning for 2021.
If I recall correctly, there were similar feelings at the end of 2019. Desires for a fresh start. A new decade. I mean, just the way all the holidays landed in 2020 was something to be super excited about!
But it didn’t really matter how the holidays landed because most of us recognized the importance of staying home, staying distanced from others, and staying masked.
It’s funny how we put so much hope in turning over the calendar. That ripping off December and using a new number will somehow magically change everything. That a new year strips away bad habits and makes us into the people we’ve longed to be. It doesn’t seem to work that way, does it?
The last stanza from John O’Donohue’s blessing, “At the End of the Year,” feels particularly needed as this year comes to a close.
For all we learned
The lessons I’ve learned in 2020 are almost too many to name. I think the biggest is that certainty and control are only illusions. I’ve spent most of my career planning 6-12 months in advance, and most of the time the things I planned actually took place. But that was never a guarantee. I lived as if there was certainty in my planning. And yet, in one day, I went from expecting to host hundreds of people for a lecture to seeing my co-workers once in the last nine months. I went from planning a fun getaway for my husband and I to being in my house almost constantly. I went from dreaming about a job in retreat leadership to sitting at a desk in my house day after day.
There is nothing certain about this life. And not just this year, but every year. We act as if we know what’s to come. We live as if we control it all. In reality, we are at the whims of creation.
I also learned (again) that the only control I do have is over myself. I can control my response to the events that take place around me. I can control the way I view others. I can control how I care for myself in difficult moments.
I can’t control other people. I can’t control every aspect of my body. So, instead I take long, deep breaths and bring my attention back to what I can control.
For all we loved and lost
I can name all of the people I’ve hugged since March. That’s not usual for me. I’m a hugger. I have no problem hugging people I just met. I appreciate the physical connection hugs provide and I miss that so much. At the same time, I’m grateful there are people in my life that I want to hug, and that my husband (who is not a hugger) appreciates my need for them!
Just since March I was supposed to attend an infertility conference and meet many of my Instagram friends in real life. I was supposed to go on vacation with my husband and attend a music festival with a good friend. I was supposed to spend Thanksgiving with my in-laws and have many, many more trips to see my nieces in Tennessee. There would have been concerts I decided to attend at the last minute and meals out with friends. I have missed all of those opportunities. At the same time, I’m grateful there are places I want to go, things I want to do, so many things that I love.
I’m grateful that no one in my life has died this year, but thousands of people have. Whether we realize it or not, those deaths impact us personally. We have all lost so much this year. And in that loss, we can see how much we’ve loved as well.
For the quiet way
I don’t drive much these days. There’s no morning traffic to deal with or backups on the drive home. I don’t see many people and there are some days when I hardly say a word. My world has gotten much smaller — just a few miles around my house. The noise that used to fill my day is no longer.
I hear the furnace kick on and the hum of the light. I hear the clicks of nails on the floor when a pup comes to say hello. I hear the birds managing their day outside my window. But still, it’s been quiet this year.
Perhaps this pull inward, this quiet way, was necessary. Maybe it’s needed in order to listen better to what my heart has to say — she does speak, but it’s oh so soft and often hard to hear. Maybe the quiet of this year was needed to bring me back to me.
Our invisible destination
What is our destination? Many times over the past nine months, I’ve looked at my husband and asked, “what’s the point?” I often wonder about the point of this life… the earth, humanity, the daily grind. What are we working toward? Some are working to have more comfort later in life. Some are living to live again after death. Honestly, none of it makes much sense to me. And yet, I keep working and living toward something.
Perhaps the destination is less about a place and more about peace — less about where I’ll end up and more about how I show up.
We bless this year for all we learned,
For all we loved and lost
And for the quiet way it brought us
Nearer to our invisible destination.
What have you learned in 2020? What have you loved and lost? What quiet ways appeared? What invisible journeys have you taken?
No year is easy because life isn’t easy. However, I think we can all agree that this year has been particularly hard. Instead of wishing it away, what do you want to carry forward from 2020 and what do you want to leave behind? Many of the same issues we’ve seen up close this year will follow us into 2021. So, maybe it’s less about where we find ourselves and more about how we choose to live.
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(She/Her)
The gal behind Held In The Heart. The Community Journal is a space for those who feel deeply to express freely. We explore all sorts of things here, from the real & raw healing stories & creative writing, to the funny & fleeting moments of everyday human life. I warmly welcome you and invite you to explore with us!