on the last day of the year, I went for a walk for the first time in months and wondered aloud (to myself, like a crazy person) what exactly happened. why 2015 felt like one blindside after another. why everything happened so out of order and out of control and with complete disregard for my need of equilibrium. everything seemed out of whack in 2015 and it was all I could do to hang on. hang on by the very tips of my fingers, I tell you.
but hang on I did. and now it’s 2016 and I’m still walking slowly through pain and wondering aloud (still to myself, still like a crazy person) if equilibrium will somehow reassert its balancing act in this new year. this new year where the questions and doubts and fear of the unknown still remain. this new year where pain still keeps me from sleeping and worry still keeps me from resting. all things considered, 2016 may be just like 2015. and what if it is?
well if it is, well then…it is. if I’ve learned anything (and trust me, I haven’t learned nearly enough), it’s that pretending to have control and trying to keep myself from getting blindsided by life is as pointless as trying to hold light in my hands.
on the one hand, I must admit that I’m a little (okay, a lot) frustrated. frustrated that my mom got sick and no one knows why and no one knows how to fix it. frustrated that friends were made to bear unbearable tragedies and survive unsurvivable loss. frustrated that I spent most of the last three months of 2015 in bed and in pain and unable to dance around the house to the new justin bieber album, which – I’m not ashamed to admit – is fantastically perfect dance material. frustrated by all the little ways that things seemed wrong and broken and completely senseless.
but on the other hand, I must admit that I’m a little (okay, a lot) thankful. thankful that in my pain and isolation I was surrounded by unbounded, inexpressible comfort that came in small acts of huge kindness. (see: text messages with lots of emojis, personal chauffeur services, ceaseless streams of prayer, and more gummy bears than I could possibly eat.) thankful that I was allowed to watch people around me perform radical acts of empathy and selflessness and love, even in the midst of broken hearts and broken lives. thankful that, at the end of the day, I am not alone in any of it. none of us are alone in any of it.
but you know what? no matter what hand I’m looking at, I must admit that I’m just totally, completely undone. undone by the freedom (yes! freedom!) that comes in not having any freaking clue what’s going to happen in 2016. undone by the fact that people will show up to help bear what seems unbearable and survive what seems unsurvivable…and to dance when we need to dance. undone by how the smallest things can actually be the biggest graces. undone by the mysterious equilibrium that is not found in the fragile balance of my circumstances, but in the ridiculously uneven amounts of grace that always always tip the scales towards what is true and good and beautiful. undone by the ribbons of light that force their way into dark rooms and make everything a bit less scary and a bit less hard. it’s useless to try and hold light in my hands, but when I stop trying, I see it reveal everything I need.