2020—the year of uncomfortable, beautiful dualities.
We flipped the calendar to another month last week and barreled into the 8th month of this year.
How does time pass slowly and all at once in one blink? How can life feel so heavy it’s splitting your back to carry every day but bursting your heart with joy at the same time?
The trees and grass are a rich shade of green now. The one that’s lost the blaring yellow tones of Spring and deepened into the acceptance of growth. I already miss it.
From August to October is my favorite time of year. It’s when Summer and Winter call a truce and play together instead.
Some days are hot. Some days are soup-skied and foggy. You never know what you’re going to wake up and live inside of.
One day will be thick with humidity—like you’re gulping hot tea down with every breath. The next will have clouds like galleons anchored in the blue harbor of the sky; the cool winds tugging at their puffy sails.
If you haven’t yet experienced Kentucky in High Summer, I’m mourning a bit for you.
Our days lately have been slower and more lonely. It’s not always a bad thing, but it doesn’t always feel good either. Our simple rythyms have been stripped to the bone.
We spend hours in our living room. I tend to my plants and our children. Jonathan and I stay up too late every night he’s home watching what makes us laugh, makes us think and gives us hours of conversation during the day (Hamilton, Marvel Movies, and Jim Gaffigan have been the go-to’s lately—we’re as eclectic as it comes when movies are involved).
We fight here. We make up here. We’re learning each other here in some kind of messy art form we’ll never perfect. But we’ll keep trying and maybe that’s the key to it all?
The house we had hoped to move away from or demolish and rebuild this year has become our island to ride out the storm. Of course it’s not ideal, but it’s better than drifting in the open ocean. We’ve not been allowed to uproot just yet. We’re growing where we’re at.
We’re reveling in deep Summer but also mourning the loss of so much normalcy.
We’re thankful for the gift of so much time together but also grieved that it’s only us most days.
We’ve don’t know what God is doing but also trusting in His unchangeable goodness.
2020—the year of uncomfortable, beautiful dualities.