As I’ve contemplated this past year, I have seen incredible highs and lows in my life. There’s often overlap between the bright and the dark because I am not skilled at compartmentalization. Thank goodness. Enjoy reading about the messy overlapping of my life this past year.
Spring
In January, my grandmother died and I traveled to Northern California for the funeral. It was expected, although that did not make it any less difficult. My siblings and I sat on a Zoom call and sang to her a few days before she passed. It’s an odd thing to want someone to die, but I had wanted for her to be able to pass for a long time. After my grandfather died, she always used to say, “I’m ready to go home to Heaven.” She seemed so tired and expectant at the same time.
What I didn’t expect was the feeling that came over me when I saw her in her casket. She’d chosen pink, of course. The mortician had painted her nails and done her makeup, taking a couple of decades off in the process. She looked the way she had when I was ten and talked to her incessantly. I whispered a secret to her and then slipped some pink baby’s breath into her casket when no one was looking. “I love you.”
Within a few weeks of coming back from that trip, my car broke down and I had to look for a new one. I ended up buying a used Mazda with a stick shift. Here’s the fun thing: I didn’t know how to drive stick shift.
After a few lessons with my new friend Douglas (who had sold me the car), I was deemed “road ready.” I stalled multiple times of day, resulting in crying, cursing, and banging on the steering wheel while crying and cursing. The car was cherry red, but the air inside frequently turned blue.
My friend Kate told me, “It can be something that helps you grow in confidence, like an inciting incident in a story.” Driving did not immediately become fun. But I did start to see how it could help me be more assertive. And a few weeks later, on both of my blind dates, I worked it into the conversation with a certain amount of pride. “Yeah, I drive stick shift, actually.”
(For those of you at home wondering about my dating life, that’s all you’re getting)
Summer
I have always associated the autumn and late winter with bouts of melancholy. This summer, though, a very deep depression hit me and it was hard to shake. There are whole weeks that I barely remember, and it’s not because I wasn’t trying. It was a dark, dark time. There’s more I could say, but I prefer to press on.
There are also moments that shimmer like rainbows when I pause to remember them. Fresh figs that I ate every morning while dog sitting. A duet that I played with another teacher during an end of summer recital. A long visit from my parents involving hikes, ice cream, and the enchanting streets of Charleston.
Autumn
The autumn was one of the brightest parts of my year, and also one of the darkest. A good friend got married in Charleston, and I was invited to read Scripture and play the piano at the ceremony. There is nothing quite as powerful as reading 1 John 4:7-21 over a congregation. Hearing myself read the words of the opening out loud settled my heart more than any sermon.
“Beloved, let us love one another for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. In this love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him.”
This idea of loving in the face of difficulty played out over the next few months. Someone I thought I could trust let me down in a big way, and it was hard to love her. My sister came to visit me and we traipsed all over the woods of the Upstate looking at waterfalls and talking forever about everything and nothing. It was easy to love that time. I reconsidered my ideas for my future as a piano teacher, and felt the rush of resentment and frustration. Those days and weeks were hard to love. I completed a draft of my current novel, and reveled in the feeling of having loved and worked hard to make something good and true. That week was so full of sunshine I thought I would burst.
The memory of my voice reading the passage from 1 John rang over it all, a bright, true music. Beloved, let us love one another for love is from God.
Winter
The winter brought with it a blazing sense of despair. I was tired, I was cold, and I felt like I couldn’t do any of the things I wanted. In fact, I wasn’t even certain I wanted anything anymore.
This is about the time that I decided to start trapping feral cats. Trapping, neutering, and then releasing or rehoming feral cats is a great thing for neighborhoods (I’m also really partial to felines). It gave me something to do that was completely unrelated to my work frustrations and inner turmoil. Plus, trapping little wild kitty cats and convincing them to curl up in my lap and purr instead of biting or scratching me was a huge confidence boost. You have not known happiness until the feline who drew blood now wants to cuddle. It is really beautiful to witness something scared and wild yielding to love.
For my birthday last year, I didn’t really do anything aside from jumping in a lake while one of my best friends sprayed me with champagne (thanks Roz). This year, as an exercise against the dark, lonely feelings I get around my birthday every November, I invited people to celebrate with me. My brother was even able to make a visit down for the event! It was a lovely morning of brunch and cake and jokes and tea and people letting me and my two writer friends talk about our projects and process. T’was a merry, bright time and I am very thankful for it.
In the middle of feeling confused and uncertain about so many details of my life, a friend invited me to join a choir for a Lessons and Carols service. We rehearsed every week until the beginning of December and I made so many new friends because of it. Singing with a group again was truly amazing and I can’t wait to do it again. It helped ease the cold and the dark of the season.
One of the brightest parts of the year was when I spent Christmas with my family for the first time since Covid. It was good to be in the same room as everyone else and to feel the familiarity of old stories and memories and jokes flowing around me. I didn’t think my life could feel more bright until I traveled to the Midwest the following week to see old college friends. Having the two trips back to back brought on so many memories and feelings of thankfulness. It’s good to remember where I’m from, and to be with the people whose souls and kindness and love have made me who I am.
Last year on New Year’s Eve, I had strep throat and stayed home to count coughs in bed. This year, I attended two parties. One was full of food, live music, and a whole house of friends in fancy evening attire. The other was simple: one family around a bonfire with tea and home made cheese bread. One party had all the ruckus. One had all the calm. Both had fireworks. Both had people I love. As I paused at a stoplight on the way home, I realized the dark is still there, but the bright parts of my life have not dissipated because of it. If anything, they are pulsing more brightly.
Here is my favorite song that came out this year. It says a lot of what I want to say, but in a more catchy way. My favorite line is “I want the real, the way it feels when destiny is at my heels. I open up my hands a cup to catch all I can of chaos and love.” Enjoy!
All Things: 