2020: It’s as weird to type as it is to be alive

We’re wildly inconsistent people, if gauged by the average length between blog posts.

And yet, the consistency of our story is not in these words, or other working life documentation, but in the people we have been physically and emotionally present to over these past few months. Moms, Dads, siblings, children: the far-flung and the nearby whom we have spent our energy to see, to savor.

I wrote those words in this draft on January 13th, got distracted by life, and now here they are. One month later, two months later, and now even 11 months later, this is still true: this is a year marked and measured by our presence with people. What began as a flurry of visitations in person became a flurry of activity within the walls of our home, spending our energy and screen time hours on staying connected these same people in ways we could have never expected.

I don’t imagine I’ll become more consistent in my documentation practices in the year ahead. Too many years of “This year I wills” behind me to guess at what will happen next. But perhaps, spurred on by the friendships that have deepened and the spiritual habits that have blossomed, there is something new to say from a year spent more in radio silence than not.

A series to share of small things, shamrock leaves, and signs of little resurrections everywhere.