It’s a little bit strange to wake up today without you. You’ve been the brunt of the joke, the one to blame, the thief of normalcy, and to some, the devil himself. Your time ticked by with more emphasis, more sting, more noise and more silence than any year in my lifetime, and now with the drop of a ball and the turning of the clock you are gone. You are gone and I miss you a little.
I wasn’t expecting to miss you (you were an absolute prick most of the time), but I do. I miss you because you were transformative. Somewhere between your first and your last day you changed us. You changed us all in some way or another. Some of us changed over and over again under your watch – more than we wanted to, not as much as we should have, not as much as we still will. Some of us didn’t want the change, didn’t accept it, didn’t know how much we needed it.
I needed it.
I know that today you’ll have doors slammed in your face. You’ll be kicked out, lit on fire, and surely face crowds of middle fingers (don’t act like you don’t deserve those – you hurt people, bad). But 2020, you will always have a place here in my mind, and with all of my might I will never stop trying to build on all the things you have taught me.
You taught me to feel. Before you, 2020, I thought I was sensitive. I thought I was empathetic, grounded, and emotionally mature (ok no, but usually I at least had the ability to control it). You ripped away the covers like a tired mama who’s finally had enough and made me look underneath. You took the activities, the tasks, the busyness that I had piled so…neatly?…on my days and man was that stuff covering up some dirt. I spent a lot of the year digging through that dirt and found the wildest mix of hidden treasures and disasters and felt every one of them so hard. You sent me to the bathroom floor more than once without even clearly showing me why, and every time I stood up again I felt the change. I needed to feel it all – yes to the treasures, YES to the disasters. You can’t fix what you can’t feel.
You taught me to keep learning. I swore years ago that the day we realize we know absolutely nothing instead of everything is the day we grow up. You made me take that back. I’m now pretty confident that we never really grow up. We never really know nothing, we just know what we know until we make an effort to learn more. Before you came along, I think I’d forgotten that I could and should always seek more, not because someone told me to, but because not seeking when you have the means is worse than not having the means. Maybe I was drowning in the stuff above the covers or maybe I was floating along in privilege – likely both – but before you, I’d lost the hunger. You made me feel starved. I owe you big for that one.
You taught me about people. Whew, Lord knows this one was a beast. There’s something about pulling people physically apart from one another that makes us all feel like we have to yell and scream to be heard. You showed us sides of each other that we didn’t want to believe were there, sides that were ugly, sides that felt unforgivable, sides that told us it was time to re-evaluate, separate, divide. You made me cover my eyes and ears just to keep loving. You made it all so SO hard.
But you also made it glorious. Behind the yelling you revealed passion, you showed the best of intentions, unmatched determination, perseverance, and grace. You pushed my empathy to the limit, beat it to a pulp, then lovingly patched it, one lesson and conversation and prayer at a time. You gave me the capacity to consider other peoples’ capacity, and the fact that it might not match my own today, tomorrow, or next week. You taught me that none of us, not one of us on this earth, have it all figured out, and control has never been ours to own. You took the makeup along with the covers and put all of our scars and wrinkles and crazy and beauty on display. [About that: I’m taking back lipstick ASAP, but I’m leaving the scars and wrinkles. We’ve earned those.]
All lessons and laughs and tears aside, on the top of my BEST OF 2020 list are the people. The obvious heroes in healthcare, education, churches, food service, delivery, child care, leadership, storytelling, and the neighbors helping neighbors should be honored forevermore. But I will also thank God for the rest of my days for the friend who nudged me to take a chance over Chinese takeout in a dark parking lot; the strangers who gave me a safe space to talk the big feelings out over Zoom; the mentors and colleagues who showed vulnerability without reserve or apology; the friend who sent at least one ridiculous video or meme a day; and the family that navigated with me when to speak up, when to shut up, and when to just say “I love you.” I do SO love you. I love my lifelong people, my new people, and lots of people I’ve never even met bigger and harder than I have ever loved them before, and 2020 taught me how to do that.
2020, I know you’ve got to go. I want you to know that you can bite me, and also I owe you forever. I hate you. I love you. Get out, but for goodness sake, don’t disappear. Let us never forget the opportunities you gave us. And oh my word pretty please, tell your baby sister to chill. Thanks. <3
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