There’s a shot of Bailey’s in my coffee this morning; a rare treat reserved for the days when I don’t plan on going anywhere. We’re hunkered down for a snowstorm like the hardy New Englanders we claim to be. Stocked up on batteries, gas for the generator, and wood for the fireplace. We’ve got plenty of food in the fridge. While there tends to be a rush for bread and milk during a blizzard, I’m more focused on making sure we have coffee and wine. And something to simmer in the crockpot all day. We’re good here.
I promised myself I would write today. It’s been way too long.
When I don’t write, there’s usually a reason. I like to write something and wrap it up with a little bow at the end. That’s my style. I like things to be neat.
When I’m not publishing, that doesn’t mean I’m not writing. I’m ALWAYS writing. It’s how I process things. It’s how I work through my emotions and talk myself off the edge. It’s how I think things through and figure things out and make hard decisions. But when I’m not publishing blogs, it’s usually because I’m still working on it. I haven’t figured it out.
But when life is messy and things are ongoing and I can’t find a neat little bow, my writing becomes 18 unfinished, typewritten diary entries sitting on my desktop. That’s what I’ve got now. The last three are titled, “Fractured Family,” “Stealth,” and “The things I’ve done wrong.”
I started them all, hoping to find a happy ending. I was writing to get to that neat little bow at the end. And I couldn’t find it.
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Here are some things that keep swirling around in brain and in my writing. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to give them neat little bows.
– Bea is gone. I may have lost her forever. For five years, she was part of our home. To me, she will always be family. But she needs space and she’s disconnected and there’s really nothing I can do about that. It hurts.
– My sisters are fighting. Not just regular ‘sister-drama,’ as my husband calls it. But real, “We haven’t spoken in a over a year” fighting. And it’s affecting us all. My dad is sick. My other sister is pregnant. We need our sister connection more than ever and it’s splintered in a way that breaks my heart. I wish I could fix it, but I can’t.
– Work is a minefield. I still love my job. There are still beautiful moments. But the joy is hard to find, and the trauma is lingering just below the surface. We are all overwhelmed by new and ever-changing rules. Mental health is deteriorating and our efforts to build resilience and joy are often met with apathy. It’s exhausting.
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That little list makes it seem like life is awful right now. But, the thing is, it’s NOT. Our little family of four is connecting better than ever. Our home is full of laughter. The boys are doing well in school and exploring new hobbies and Lee has a job. I’m using YouTube tutorials to learn how to crochet, and there are moments when we’re all gathered in the living room watching a movie and I’m making a blanket, and there is a log burning in the fireplace and I think, “Hold on to this moment. It doesn’t get any better.”
We’re financially stable in a way that is unfamiliar and entirely liberating. We’re planning a trip to Florida soon. My mom has lived there for more than a decade, and we keep saying we’ll save the money to come. We’re finally doing it. I can’t wait.
We have good friends. We’re so blessed to have friends to celebrate with us and cry with us and share the burdens and the joys. I don’t take that for granted.
We have our families. Our beautiful, complicated, messy, connections that bind us forever, whether we want them or now.
We are bound.
We are connected.
Maybe that’s the neat little bow for this post.
I reread what I’ve just written. What’s the theme? What am I supposed to realize? What am I meant to learn?
We are interconnected. We are woven together in a way that is divine and holy and beyond our understanding.
My student’s anxiety doesn’t just belong to them. It belongs to all of us. My sisters’ argument isn’t just theirs. It radiates through our family. Bea’s choices aren’t just hers. They ripple through to touch all of the people who have ever loved her. But the joy affects us all, too. My children’s laughter strengthens me… which supports my students. Our friends hold us up when things get tough; so then we can lift and support others. That fire in the fireplace and the Bailey’s in my coffee lift my spirits, and there is purpose in that, as well. Maybe all the time that I spend trying to solve unsolvable problems is better spent seeking joy and strength.
Let go and Let God, right? You can’t fix it all. You can’t wrap everything up with a neat little bow. But you can shift your focus to the things that help you weather the storm. A fire in the fireplace. Soft yarn against my fingertips. A shot of Bailey’s in my coffee.
May we all be blessed with a little bit of beauty and joy as we weather this storm together.