One of my favorite traditions for over a decade has been to sit down and try to write a REAL Christmas letter. Not just the highlights, but a few honest moments as well. It started as a joke with one of my friends, thinking how refreshing it be for people to share more than just their perfect lives that we are used to seeing on Facebook and Instagram. It would be way more truthful and a whole lot more entertaining. So here goes…
2021 I had such high hopes for you. Well, actually the bar was pretty low but clearly not low enough. If I have learned anything from 2020 it is that even things that are difficult, the days are still a gift. It is a gift to gather with family without a Covid test or a worrisome 5 days after. It is a gift to go to the movies or a concert. It is a gift to go to work, school and sporting events. It is a gift to get vaccines, to board an airplane to sit in a pew at church. It is a gift to be allowed back to visit someone in the emergency room. It is a gift to show up every hard day.
My first clue that 2021 would be a doozie was more snow than I ever want to see again, unless I’ve paid money to ski down it. In Texas, at least this portion (I can’t speak for my panhandle family members) snow days are rare and magical (I smell snow!)..But then after your fifth day in a row of praying that the heater doesn’t give out of the pipes won’t bust or the electricity doesn’t go out (like so many of our neighbors) the magic fades. Bring on the sunshine. I’ve never been so glad to have a handy husband, a car with 4 wheel drive and not own a swimming pool. I will not pray for any snow days this winter (or possibly ever again). That being said, we found our ski clothes, the biggest hills we could find and some old skis fashioned into a sled. We shoveled drives, dripped faucets, turned our thermostat down and hiked paraded around our neighborhood covered in white. What made it hard and burst pipes, also made it a beautiful new adventure. The rest of the school year went by quickly and Owen was only quarantined once.
With vaccines finally available, our summer went back to our normal routine. Mountains and beaches. First we made it to Colorado Springs where we hiked and climbed and enjoyed the non-Texas heat. Then we went to Galveston where my kids did their usual beach things, crabbed, played games and burned bad enough to blister. But we ate good food and I read all the books. I was raised on beaches and lakes, my husband fishing and hiking in the mountains. I need the sun and salt, my husband needs the thin quiet air. My kids don’t know how good they have it, getting healthy doses of both each summer.
Most people in education will tell you that this has been their hardest year. Some will say that is because of the disappointment. The hope for “being back to normal” that didn’t quite happen.
I will say that maybe that is because normal wasn’t quite working. People kept talking about gaps in learning, but no one was quite prepared for the gaps in all the other things schools provide. To top it off, our district had a shooting at a campus in the fall. All those drills paid off and everyone was able to respond quickly and efficiently. No lives were lost but many were changed. Mine included. This week we had a holiday luncheon at work and despite my efforts I couldn’t quite fit any more on my plate. This means I went back for seconds (and maybe thirds - no judgement)...but eventually I couldn’t quite fit anymore in my belly. I was at capacity and needed a rest. Maybe we could take a lesson in education from our holiday meals. 2021 has shown us our limits and most of us (or at least me) could do a better job of listening to them. (Unless you ask me if there is room for pie because that answer is always yes).
Previously, Tess has been hard to get involved or committed to any activity. I have literally dragged her kicking and screaming to practices or to try new things. This year, however, she has doubled down . She has decided that she wants to play both competitive soccer and compete at barrel racing. This means that I am both broke and busy. I know zero things about horses, and plenty about soccer, but as far as Tess is concerned I know nothing about either. My previous child who hated to sweat and work hard has been replaced by a moody thirteen year old who smells like horses or shin guards in desperate need of washing most nights of the week. She is confident in the arena and has brought home multiple cash prizes (there are no trophies in the rodeo - just checks). Her soccer team has had less success, but she has improved by leaps and bounds. I keep reminding her that there is plenty to be learned in loss, a lesson I myself hate that 2021 has brought me. She is every bit thirteen and has all the looks and smart comments to remind anyone who forgets. She has her own fashion sense that mostly involve t-shirts of 80s bands she has never heard of and ripped jeans. There is a constant request to do something crazy to her hair so far this year it has been blue but I’ve said a hard no to the mullet. She loves Asian food (but not sushi), Italian food (mostly the bread) and only a few things I actually cook. If you are my friend on social media, maybe you have seen a lack of pictures of her this year. That is because she insists on “consent”. I think she might be using this wrong - but I still try to respect her boundaries. I knew from the moment I heard the doctor swear as they tugged her from my body that this was my strong willed child. Nothing brings it out more than thirteen. I try to just take each eye roll and argument as proof that I am raising an independent, justice seeking, empowered human. I love her, but would still pay her an unlimited sum for her to just to be kind to her brother for 24 hours.
Owen can drive. Like an actual car. Legally. Y’all this is a game changer in our house. For starters I do not have to take him to school at 7 a.m. or rush to pick him up. Now, getting a permit and a license was a small miracle, not because his driving skills were lacking (although they do give me pause) but because it takes every piece of paperwork your child has ever been given and a small miracle to get your license. Owen passed his driving test on the first time, but his mom failed to bring the right paperwork the first two times. Watching him pull out of the driveway the first time was as much a celebration as it was a glimpse at my future. He will be forever driving off from now on. This is exactly what I wanted, but can still mourn it (and constantly check find my iphone to make sure he makes it to his destination). It also makes for a much less fun game of driveway Jenga each night so the right people can get out in the morning. He is sixteen and knows things I have never heard of. He is still playing tennis and his team made the second round of playoffs. We have gone on a few college visits and thanks to his great teachers -- he received multiple college credits as an underclassman. This year he is taking three AP classes and PreCal and I won’t lie that sometimes I check his grades and pray that he is passing (spoiler alert, the answer isn’t always yes). He can out-science both his chemical engineer father and science coordinator mother, but can’t for the life of him turn in his History or English homework. I’m not sure if he has had a hair cut since 2020 either, but his locks are enough to make most grown women jealous and he steals all my ponytail holders. He gets all my jokes and makes plenty of his own. He has started swearing more regularly than I’d like, but I’m pretty damn sure he gets that from his father. He can out-fish almost anyone and can beat me at most board games. He is funny and quick witted, and is still the kid that will laugh at my goofy jokes (unlike his sister). I’m most proud of the fact that multiple times this year, adults we do not know, have stopped Shaun or I at tennis matches or church and praised my kid, not for sports or academics, but on being kind or thoughtful and accepting and that counts more than any A on his report card or W in the win column.
Shaun is now the boss and has the blood pressure, stomach aches and unread emails to prove it. He rescued my phone from the woods and humors most of my adventures. He has spent less time in making things in the garage, but has perfected his gumbo recipe and can smoke a salmon that I've yet to see anyone turn down. He used to curse all my Starbucks purchases and now he orders more regularly than I do. This summer was our twenty year anniversary. We’ve been a couple longer than we’ve been apart. Twenty years has felt like forever and a minute. I don’t often write or talk enough about my husband and it is mostly because he is the best and most true thing I know. We fight plenty, but also we are a team. I wrote about it (and made a cheesy video) this summer….so feel free to read it there -- but know that as we approach twenty one I feel so damn lucky. That I married a man who steadies me, who is a great father, who can fix all the things and who will drive Tess to soccer because I hate her shin guards stinking up my car.
Like most people 2021, wasn’t quite what I hoped it would be. I did not especially meet any goals but I have learned and grown in ways that I never knew I wanted to but have been so necessary. There have been times I feel like I am barely making it and other times I’m so proud of what I’ve been able to do. The doing doesn’t look as important as other years. I did not get a new job or new degree or run long distances. I did however, show up in important ways for others and myself. I may not write as publicly as I used to, but I certainly write as prolifically. Recently I was reading some old essays -- and I couldn’t put my finger quite on what was different….although so much was. My themes were the same. I wrestle with faith, I want to be more, I manage physical pain. Years late, I still struggle to see God show up in the ways I often pray for, but I can look back and see where he has been. I still see my neurologist and get breakthrough pain more often than I want to admit. I eventually came to this conclusion, the person I was -- was strong and could push through some pretty hard things: pain, goals, discomfort. The current person I am is much better at sitting in those hard things. It may sound the tiniest of distinctions, but I assure you it is huge. I am a list-maker and a goal-meeter, but I’m starting to mark progress in different ways. My mother was sick and spent most of October in multiple hospitals. I learned who my family was under stress and what we were capable of tackling together. I have done some hard things in my life, but this was one of the hardest. I learned that sometimes all the things that should help (money, education, insurance, preparedness, prominence)… don’t always matter. Instead, what does matter is showing up, hope and maybe a bottle of Tylenol PM.
My year ended with a dream trip with two of my closest friends to Hawaii. It was beautiful and dreamy, until there were blizzards and flash floods. We hiked, snorkeled, boogie boarded, sailed, explored, learned to make a mai tai, learned that I shouldn’t drink more than one mai tai, learned that pineapples do NOT grow on trees, ate amazing food AND set off fire alarms (more than once), had things canceled, got rained on (inside and out), sunburned and froze. We saw whales, sea turtles, sunsets, but no sunrise (even though we got up at 2:30 am and drove up a volcano to watch it). Even paradise had its moments to test our patience (like when our plane was overbooked and we were downgraded or our jeep flooded). But we laughed and didn’t check email and spent some much needed quality time together. It is a trip I will remember forever (and not just because I needed an IV just to make it on the plane -- thank you stomach bug for getting me beach body ready) but partly because it wasn’t perfect. Even Hawaii, required a few moments of disappointment and reframe. And we had to remember that it was all a gift. That beautiful moments sometimes come after a flash flood. That even the fanciest villas leak. And that as much as I enjoyed my time on the island who you are with that trumps place every time.
Despite its challenges, 2021 wasn't short on memories. Click here for pictures of some of my favorites.
Many people I know are being careful about setting expectations for 2022. They are more cautious with their intent and hope for a better year. It seems like almost everyone I know had some kind of major life crisis in the last few years. Loss after loss, troublesome diagnoses, wreckage and hard decisions with no good answers. Many of us, for at least a portion of the last year or two, have been running on empty. We’ve given and received even in our emptiness. I’ve been emptied out and filled up. I’m not about to start rationing hope now. I’ve always loved a challenge. Doing the hard thing (or living through the hard year) forces growth. So I’m going into 2022 with bigger bags under my eyes and bigger pants but I’ve also grown in wisdom, gratitude and capacity to tackle whatever 2022 brings.
My 2021 Playlist
2020 letter wish i had a river
2019 letter gingerbread
2018 letter christmas lights
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