I have not been a big fan of 2020. More days than not, I have found myself with too many tabs open in my worry browser. I’ve been so overwhelmed I’ve spun in circles and dropped numerous connections.
Honestly, it’s had nothing to do with public health or a problem that is centered on a lack of toilet paper. It’s been a health crisis with my mother and trying to navigate a flawed system basically alone. Attempting to teach, parent, wife, church, and human, all while concerns about responsibility for my mother blare 24/7 on my mental sound system, has caused near breakdown. There’s truth to be told in that old phrase It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Some days, it doesn’t take much to push me over the edge, and I have to crawl my way back out of the hole the next day.
I’ve prayed, cried, and cursed a lot in the privacy and sanctity of my car. More than once, I’ve simultaneously done all three. (Sorry, God.)
I don’t want to be scared and confused, hopeless and alone, adrift in a sea of yuck– as I often am now. I also don’t want to wish away my days. I don’t want to just skip ahead until it’s all over, fixed, and operating as a new normal, because I have learned that some of my worst times have been the fertilizer that grew the best parts of me. (I am looking at you, 2004-2005 and 2013-2014 school years.) I don’t have to love it or even like it for 2020 to come with miracles.
Some of them I can recognize in the present-day. Others, I think I see in their germination stage– at least, I hope I do. I know it will probably take five or ten years to look back and truly see the benefits that emerged from the steaming manure pile thus far known as 2020. I’m trusting they will be there.
I have to remember to look for them.
There are miracles every day if I choose to see them.