miriam beth

 "hi grandpa! what are you doing?"

"why, sitting in the sunshine! of course!" (he said of course like it was the most obvious thing in the world) 

"do you have any plans today?"

"isabelle has made me a pie! a lemon pie. in the sunshine. can you believe it?"

"sounds delicious."

"woo-hoo. delicious? it certainly is. it certainly is. god made this beautiful world and he gave us delicious things to eat--what a life!"

what a life. words often said by my grandpa. 

2020 has certainly been a year (i write with the same sour face that everyone makes when they say that sentence) and we have certainly given things up and we are certainly looking forward with a hope for things to "return", but on this day of thanksgiving, i am looking back on this year not to tally our sacrifices and disappointments, but to count my blessings. 

in 2020 we were together. and things healed that i did not know were wounds. and the wounds that i did not know could heal have made more progress than they would have if we were all living our normal lives. we learned things about each other. we got tougher, scrappier, more flexible. we laughed together. Ryan and the children watched more marvel movies than they should have (unpopular opinion: watching even one constitutes watching too many). we hiked and hiked and hiked. we lived among the wildflowers for months. i got the chickens. we went to the beach and found peace and gratitude. we read and read and read. i confronted feelings. i learned to live with those feelings. i made pies and rolls and bread from a sourdough starter. we slept more. we moved slower. we played outside. we read scripture and wrote in journals. 

as this year comes to a close i see all the difficulties. for awhile that was all i could see, but now? i see the love. the time. the space. we were together. it is a lesson i learn again and again and now, in 2020, once more: you can find so much love, so much laughter, in hardship. 2020 showed me inequality and pain and heartache. it showed me where to go. it led me home. 

grandpa actually died almost a year ago exactly. he was a good grandpa. he was faithful and cheerful and hardworking. he loved food and sunshine, hikes, travel, good books, good music. he used to take me down the hill to feed his animals at the start of the day. he used to let me help him in the garden. before we'd go we'd pray. he kept a bucket of honey upstairs and dried bananas in the windowsill. 

his words have been on my lips more this week as i have counted and counted and counted some more, the blessings in my life. church at my parent's house on sundays, a few happy (and socially distant) gatherings on the front lawn, hard hikes to the top of the hill, understanding what i want to let in and how i can draw boundaries to keep the other stuff out. 

and now, as I finish baking a series of pies, begin baking a series of rolls, my kitchen full of flour and dirty dishes, and joni mitchell and jimmy eat world and delaney and friends, and i am grateful, deeply. 

what a life.