Tide Side at the Close of the Year

The Gift

Be still, my soul, and steadfast.

Earth and heaven both are still watching

though time is draining from the clock

and your walk, that was confident and quick,

has become slow.

So, be slow if you must, but let

the heart still play its true part.

Love still as once you loved, deeply

and without patience. Let God and the world

know you are grateful.

That the gift has been given.

Mary Oliver

There’s something about the setting of one year, and the sunrise of another, that makes us pause, reflect, decide what we liked, what we didn’t, and cast not only judgement on the previous year, but also throw our lines out hoping to catch wistful dreams in the new year.

I’m Type-A and an overachiever. And I’m tired. While 2020 was not what any of us expected, wished for, or dreamt of, it has provided me with more than just sadness, frustration, and anxiety. It’s also left me holding appreciation for the simpler times of just being. Of hitting the pause button and learning to be okay with standing still in moments of rest and reflection.

At this time last year, we were saying goodbye to the 2010’s, and welcoming a new decade with “20/20” vision statements, grand purpose, aggressive plans, and copious amounts of hope that this would be our best year yet.

Well, we all know how that turned out. This year has not been without merit and success, accomplishment and purpose. However, the plans went to hell, and on some days, the hope did too.

This year forced many of us to take a time out, to slow down, cancel our plans. It’s been a big change in a culture of obsessive productivity and toxic positivity. And just a short time into the shut downs and stay at home orders, there was a predictable cultural push to claim purpose in the midst of a pandemic. Social media was filled with aggressive goal setting to start that business, write that book, and get in the best shape of your life.

Unnecessary and unwelcome pressure during a time when we were all just trying to adjust, make sense of, and adapt to the uninvited guest named COVID-19.

What if at the close of this year, we quietly say goodbye to the one we never saw coming, the one that was armed with the antithesis of all we were expecting in 2020. Imagine if we gently close the door, tiptoe away, and silently crawl into the bed of the new year, knowing we’ll need the rest. What if we pull the covers up to our chin, say our prayers, close our eyes, and breathe slow and deep breaths? Sometimes, the new year may just need to gently roll up and briefly touch our toes, without grand expectation, before the waves of a low tide calmly usher out the old.

Making Space, Receiving Grace

Maybe our goals, resolutions, intentions were meant to pause and be in the stillness. Perhaps as we mourn, grieve, and process all the pain, disappointment, and destruction this year has blanketed us with, we rest. We allow ourselves the grace to accept that goals, plans, and dreams can come at any time, not just at year’s end. And possibly, the best ones of these will come after we allow ourselves relaxation, stillness, and the absolution which comes when we love ourselves in the silence, taking in all we are, as we are. Tired, weary, and trusting the upcoming days will still have darkness, but the light will arrive, little by little, more and more, every day. And with it, so will our joy, our wishes, our goals. We will be rested, and ready to move forward – with more gratitude, less expectation, and the grace we didn’t know we needed. Like a warm blanket – we will snuggle into the transition of the old year into the new, knowing that it’s all really just a day, like many others. And our best wishes, dreams and hopes are already here, as we breathe in and know – we’ve made it this far.

2020 taught me that I want to make space, make room for more – more listening, learning, reflecting, accepting, praying, and sitting in the stillness. I’ve learned it is hard to do those things when I’m too busy producing, doing, chasing. I’m seeking and learning to let go of this incessant need for productivity. I’m understanding my worth is not dependent on that. Nor is my happiness.

I’m tired of chasing. I will work for what is necessary. I will set goals – how I want, when I want, in the manner in which I want. It’s who I am. However, I want to also learn to let go of expectations – my own and those thrust upon me. Letting go is where we’ll actually find our worth, acceptance, and happiness. We’ll find stillness here too; stillness in knowing that grace is the place all the love lives, and this is the place I am most full, content, and filled with joy.

2020 also gifted me perspective, and it is one that will continue to give, if we are willing to quiet our minds and listen with heart. We will find it tide side, its foaming edges covering my toes, just as the ocean does in the quiet of the outgoing tide. Touching you gently, lapping itself, rhythmically falling back and coming in – reminding us all, our movement forward can be quiet, gentle, and just touch the tips of our toes. We don’t need to come crashing into the new year, as high tide does. We can melt softly into the sand, into the new year, with each gentle brush of the waves. As we do, and as Mary Oliver says, we can ‘Let God and the world know you are grateful. That the gift has been given.’

Love, peace, rest, gratitude, grace, and stillness to you in this new year.