Maybe it’s just me, but ever since I moved to the south, and especially since the pandemic, I’ve had trouble with the end of the year sneaking up on me.
No weather cues to clue me in. No festive decor, since I don’t go out a lot and left all my holiday decorations back in the Midwest. Just the gradual march of days until I realize, in a panic, that Christmas is next week, and I’ve done almost nothing to prepare.
The first year I was here, I spent Thanksgiving with my boyfriend’s family in southern Georgia, and it was over 70 degrees! Then, through the holidays, I was in survival mode, trying to get settled in at my new restaurant job. By the time Christmas was over, I was exhausted, overworked, and emotional.
Green grass and 70 degrees at Thanksgiving is just…weird.
Last year, the end of the year was marked by the difficulty of my grandmother’s passing, and the loneliness of being far from home during a time when travel wasn’t a great idea.
This year has flown by just as fast, if not faster than 2020, and I honestly don’t know how we are less than two weeks to the end.
I read a book a while back called The Power of Moments by Chip and Dan Heath. It’s probably technically a business book, but I HIGHLY recommend it for anyone.
The basic premise of the book is that what we recall in life is moments. The landmarks in time that stand out because they are different or special. Moments can be good or bad, but they are memorable.
In the past two years, there have been fewer of those. Every day, even if not routine, feels the same and blends into the next. That is why 2020 in particular felt so weird. The days felt long, and then the year itself felt short.
My landmark moments in 2020 were:
Going to the Dominican Republic with my boyfriend’s family
Having my friend Ryan come visit me in Atlanta
The beginning of the lockdown
Making a short film with my roommates
Going to Hilton Head with my boyfriend’s family
The OneVoice conference
My grandmother’s death
A few bright spots and a painful event or two in a mostly forgettable wash of everything being the same all the time.
This year was similar. Only a few lone pillars standing on a landscape that otherwise looked about as flat and barren as southern Illinois.
Not to say that there weren’t bright spots, or things that kept me going—there were. Going home to see my family and friends was restorative in a way I can’t even begin to explain.
But so much of life has become about getting through the days rather than creating those special moments.
In the book, the authors talk about how there are people who tend to be the instigators of those moments. Companies who create those moments stand out in their niche. People who spearhead friend vacations, parties, and impromptu gatherings tend to stand out in our minds as well. We all have those friends or family members who make it look easy.
The way my grandma Caroline did Christmas was REALLY, REALLY extra. In the best way possible.
The author says that while creating moments can take a lot of energy, the payoff can be immense.
Despite current circumstances, we don’t have to be content with the status quo.
People facing difficult circumstances throughout history, even in the darkest situations, have found a way to celebrate, bring joy and light to their lives, and make moments.
It is not callous to do so. It is not insensitive. It is how we survive.
I don’t generally make resolutions, as I find them a sad substitute for goals with a concrete action plan.
HOWEVER—
I’m making one this year.
My resolution for 2022 is to make more moments.
To, as safely as I possibly can…
Go out of my way to make things a little more special on a regular basis.
Make plans with people, and get outside of the bubble I’ve been trapped in.
Enjoy my life more while I’m here.
Adventure again.
Wishing you Happy Holidays, a Merry Christmas,
and a New Year filled with amazing moments to treasure.
Let’s play “spot the evil reindeer!”