Yes, it’s been a year.
A year since we counted the rolls of toilet paper in the closet, filled our pantries with rice and beans, gave up looking for hand sanitizer, closed our doors, and watched our country shut down with an abruptness no one could begin to process at the time.
At a family Zoom gathering Sunday night, four of us gathered around the virtual dinner table and exchanged still-fresh memories from last March, especially the moments when it first dawned on us that life as we knew it had already slipped away.
For me there was a teary drive through an empty downtown, the news that the nursing home where I taught chair yoga had locked its doors to all visitors, the heartache of visiting my parents through a cracked-open window rather than sitting on their couch sharing a cup of coffee or an evening glass of wine. Henry recalled the final, emotional rehearsal for a spring musical that would never be performed, how his students sang their hearts out for each other one last time and then wept as they hugged good-bye. Steve remembered walking into his empty office one morning last March, unplugging all the computers and driving them to his employees’ houses in the hope they might help him keep his small business afloat. Lauren, who had plotted her 40thbirthday trip to England down to the minutest detail, described the day she canceled every single reservation, holding herself together just long enough to take the entire, much-anticipated plan apart. Will any of us, ever, become quite so attached to any hope or itinerary again? Probably not.
How strange it is now to think that, back then, we were also sterilizing our phones, leaving the mail outside for three days, and washing down milk cartons, but we weren’t covering our faces at the grocery store. There was so much we didn’t know that we didn’t know. And no one could imagine what awaited – the loss of jobs, routines, connections, institutions, restaurants, loved ones, friends. The end of hugs. The isolation. The death. The grief. The crazy politics. The ongoingness of it all.
As I sit writing in my quiet kitchen, watching the chickadees and nuthatches come and go from the feeder, I’m also keenly aware that this long, sad year has not been without its gifts. I have only to think of the moment last week when, after months of standing still as a statue beneath the crabapple tree each afternoon, arm outstretched, my patience (or perhaps my persistence) was finally rewarded. A chickadee landed, light as a breath, upon my open palm, plucked a sunflower seed, and zipped back to the branch above my head. Four more times that brave, tiny creature returned to my fingertips, met my eyes with its own bright black gaze, and took food from my hand. Rooted in place there beneath a tree alive with birds, surrounded by their chatter and the whir of wingbeats, I realized that this, too, marks a change in the way I live now.
I’m quieter. Slower. More watchful. Attuned, perhaps, to a subtler rhythm. A year ago, I wouldn’t have imagined a bird might eat from my hand. And yet, a year ago I wouldn’t have found time in any day to stand in stillness for thirty or forty minutes simply to watch the comings and goings of the wild things who share this piece of earth with us.
Now, I have nothing but time, and for months this is how I’ve spent it – observing and wondering at and falling even more deeply in love with a place. After years of practicing yoga, counting my breaths, sitting in meditation, I’ve finally begun to understand what it really means to be fully present, noticing everything.
To say I know the red squirrel who lives in the stone wall outside the kitchen doesn’t begin to explain the affection I feel for this tiny, bushy-tailed companion whose daily comings and goings over the last year have become as familiar to me as my own. I greet him every morning before I start the coffee. I know which branch he favors for an afternoon nap. I watch him sleep there. While I’m making our dinner inside, he’s on the other side of the window, gathering and eating his own. Yes, I put out treats for him. (And, please don’t judge, I also gave him a name. Chasten. It fits.) When I step out the door these days, Chasten no longer scurries into his hole in the wall, but rather pauses, head lifted, watching me with as much friendly curiosity as I do him. We’ve grown comfortable with one another.
In the last year, I haven’t missed a sunrise or a sunset, a moon or a storm or a rainbow, of which there have been many. Nights, my husband and I lie in the dark listening to the sounds of wind or rain, coyotes in the field, birds at first light, the occasional distant owl.
For many of us who have been lucky enough to stay home this year, there’s been both sadness and grace in this quiet time, grief for our collective losses and, too, a kind of invisible yet transforming growth. Perhaps above all, we’ve arrived at a hard-won awareness of the preciousness and fragility of life. Leaning into gratitude, we begin to notice the everyday miracles that were right in front of us all along.
Now, as cases go down and vaccinations ramp up, tendrils of hope push through the hard-packed tundra of resignation and compliance. It won’t be long before we’ll be able to hug our friends, make dinner reservations, take a drive to Target. I can’t wait.
But I won’t lie. The last month or so has felt hard in a new way. I suspect we’ve all been stirred by this one-year anniversary to pause and take stock of the last year. Tallying both our losses and unexpected blessings, we’re thinking about what we learned, what new ways of being we wish to carry forward. I wonder whether I can hold on to this more expansive sense of space and time even as life around me picks up speed. And, too, I look back at this long string of unscheduled days and ask myself what, exactly, I’ve accomplished here. The first answer, which came immediately to mind, was a big fat “Zero.”
While friends have written books, created beautiful artworks, taught classes over Zoom, and worked from home while presiding over their kids’ online schoolwork, I was standing under a tree. No wonder, I chided myself, I had nothing to show for all this time. I’ve written little, other than a journal of jotted moments. I did not complete an online course or clean the basement. There was so much I could have done but didn’t. What I saw, looking back, was a year of wasted days, lost opportunities, failed intentions, lack of self-discipline, lack of inspiration, lack of talent. Lots and lots of lack.
And then I read this piece in last Sunday’s New York Times in which seventy-five artists and writers were asked, among other things, “What’s one thing you made this past year?”
“A compost heap,” replied writer Ali Smith.
“I’ve made peace with myself,” said musician Tiwa Savage.
“I made a googly-eyed owl out of toilet paper rolls,” writer Karen Russell answered.
And with that, the chiding voice in my head fell silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her tone was different. Curious rather than critical.“What have you made this past year?” she asked, gently now.
And suddenly the answers came. I made lots of things. So did you. I’m sure of it.
Here are 21 things I made this year.
This cake.
This track.
This woodpile.
This sandwich.
This gift.
This bed. (Every day.)
This garden.
This birthday card.
This bouquet.
This donation.
This face.
This pizza.
This harvest.
This gift.
This table setting.
This rock.
This stack of letters.
This batch of pickles.
This garden.
This cocktail.
This gift.
Which brings me to my dear friend Beth Kephart, who DID write a book this year, a beautiful, brave, rule-breaking memoir that is still haunting me months after I read the advance proofs. It was the night of the election that I finished the last chapter, sitting alone in front of a fire in the living room while CNN announced early results from the TV in the kitchen. Somehow, in those fraught, uncertain hours, the questions Beth was exploring on the page felt more urgent to me than the projections and opinions issuing from the screen.
How do we become the people we are? How are we shaped by those we love, by those who hurt us, by those who see us more clearly than we see ourselves? How do we choose one path over another, releasing our grip on old dreams even as we’re compelled to envision new ones?
How do time, pain, love, and loss finally pare away all that isn’t needed, leaving behind the essence of a self, a truth, a way onward? Is it possible to write one’s way into understanding and acceptance, into healing, into faith that who we are and what we do is enough?
If, as C.S. Lewis suggests, “We read to remember that we are not alone” then Beth reminds us just how rare it is to find a true soul companion for life’s journey. Perhaps what I love most about her brief, atmospheric collection of intensely personal fragments is the way she reveals her own creative process with every page, sharing moments of agonizing self-doubt and quiet revelation side by side. This is both the life of an artist, unsparingly portrayed, and the hard work of writing itself happening before our eyes, stripped bare of all pretense and self-protection. To read it is to be challenged, provoked, and, finally, deeply moved.
Having known the private terror of sharing myself on the page, I could only imagine the anxiety Beth might be battling in the days leading up to her pub date two weeks ago. No words can reassure a writer about to release her book into the world, but I hoped a small talis-woman, a handmade “self” filled with soothing lavender might bring some ease. And so I stitched my love for her, and my gratitude for her beautiful book, into a little being and mailed it off to her. To make something, anything, I’m coming to realize, is to bring a bit more appreciation and nourishment into the world. The gift to ourselves is in the time and space we claim for that creation.
Beth wondered recently if there was ever a time we two didn’t know each other, and yet the truth is we’ve met in person only a couple of times over the last fifteen years or so. It is through writing that we really became friends, sharing our words, our stories, our truths. And then, over this last strange year, finding ourselves drawn at last to long conversations over the phone, we forged a deeper connection still. What we talk about, often, is the joy of making. Beautiful sentences, yes. But also dinner. Good days. Gelli prints. Stitches. Beauty. Love.
win a copy of wife/daughter/self
Beth has generously offered to gift a signed, personalized copy of Wife/Daughter/Self to one of my readers here. And, because she’s Beth, and because we’re here to support each other in all of our making, she’ll also include one of her own hand-made cards, each a small work of art.
To enter to win the book, simply answer the question in the comments section below: What have you made this year?
I’ll draw one winner at random on Wednesday, March 31.
If you want to order Beth’s book, you can purchase signed copies from her local independent bookstore, Main Point Books, here. The Amazon page (affliliate link) is here. For more info about Beth and her work, visit her website, bethkephartbooks.com
(Chickadee photo courtesy of Unsplash.)
I have made a baby boy! After 5 wonderful daughters, 2020 blessed us with a surprise baby boy. This past year has presented so many challenges for me personally and basking in the joy of yet another baby has been one of the most incredible gifts.
I made a new home, in a new city, with a new job. Together my husband, kiddo, and I made a new life for ourselves, and it is wonderful.
I made the decision to let my mom end treatment and pass away gently in good care. Hopefully (I’ll never know for sure) I was able to make her feel calm and loved as she went. I labored very hard at this, because she was anxious and bewildered.
Since then I’ve made and unmade and re-made peace with all of it. But that’s just part of the story.
Having recently gone through something similar with my father-in-law, Susan, I have some understanding of how you feel. Peace will come in its and your own time.
I have made countless desserts and treats along with everyday meals, a running routine that has helped maintain some sanity, and a new habit of watching evening television I fear may be hard to break.
But I have also tried to make this year one of small moments and celebrations. As our usual outings, etc. disappeared, the four of us found ways to break the monotony and find some measure of even joy in these small ways- a special brunch, happy hour on the front porch, and lots and lots of walks together.
One giant YES to this blog. What fun it was to scroll through just a few of the images that captured what you’ve made this year. I’m so grateful to be the recipient of your beautifully written birthday poem, the many embroidery pieces you’ve surprised me with, not to mention your delicious grilled cheese sandwiches on homemade bread. I feel particularly lucky that we were able to make so many memories together during this past year. I’m currently reading Beth’s book and am completely entranced by her writing. Thank YOU for writing. xoxo
Before I read your list of what you made this year, I too thought “nothing” but then realized that wasn’t so. What stands out first is that I made a loving home, along with my husband, for a rescued dog-something talked about for a long time and finally done! I made many donations, some to feed those in need, others to support candidates important to me and our country and along with writing letters and postcards, I made the effort to encourage people to vote. The more common thoughts of what I made include careful trips to the markets for food and supplies, and dinners almost every evening throughout the year and still at it.
I have made a cross stitch baby quilt for my first grandchild – a boy who is arriving this June.💙 I haven’t done any needle work since making a quilt for my daughter’s nursery almost 30 years ago. It seems fitting that my first project since then is a quilt for her baby boy.
I’ve made a log/diary of the birds we see in our backyard, the first robin sighting in March, the first oriole sighting in April, the first hummingbird sighting in May, and what day the cranes were heard honking just over our heads, We have a family squirrel too, we named him Stewart.
So happy to find your post. Time stands still while I read.
I finished my first novel this year! And like you, I’ve made the bed, made and shared a few food gifts, made some memories, made some bread, made a few pies, made a special two-year-old smile…. I don’t know that any of these “mades” are more important than any other. Each was important in the moment it occurred. And that’s what I’ve learned this year. Take this moment and inhale it.
I have made 8 million stem cells for my sister’s bone marrow transplant, which takes place next Monday. Who would think that as this COVID year winds down, her fight only begins. I am blessed to be a perfect match for her, and feel privileged to have donated last week. What greater gift than a chance for a cure?
With you. Sending good vibes and lots and lots of healthy cells. My families long haul with ALS started in the pandemic too. I think we may share an experience that has to do with how changed our lives are as the pandemic winds down for others.
sending every good wish for a successful transfusion and recovery <3
I learned to throw good cups by throwing and throwing and throwing a zillion mugs. I can finally make mugs I like very much. (Not to say that all the mugs come out well but…). It was so lucky I set up a home studio right before Covid hit. I made oodles of baked goods to give to friends in deep quarantine. I made way more messes than I would like to acknowledge. Some I cleaned up. Some are still here. I made a beautiful doll with a full wardrobe and two baby quilts for new grandchildren. But mostly I made myself deeply happy by walking and walking and walking in the woods and putzing around in my garden. Except for not seeing new babies and grandkids, this year suited me well.
The first thought is that I made a safe space for our family within our four walls scurrying out with mask and hand sanitizer to stock up n groceries for meal after meal. I made it through long day after long day of work. I made life here as normal as possible by making myself stay calm and hopeful so we all wouldn’t spiral down the drain as the frustration, fear, and outright anger of our teens swirled in the air every day. I made my dog and my body happy with daily walks, and another dog happy when he joined our family and our walks.
But I also made many meals, cookies (to eat ourselves but also to share), bread, and very recently hand stitched tags from a challenge you introduced me to. I am absolutely terrible at it. My stitches aren’t straight, my creativity completely lacking, yet it makes me so happy to see them finished. I am not keeping pace – I will be lucky to finish half, 26, but that’s ok. This is my little respite….where I spend time on something just for me, just to sit with it.
I made quilts for a kids’ charity this year during my lockdown. It was/is my solace.
I have made quality time with the people I love most: A steady, yoga practice for myself, a weekly girls’ night with my teenage daughters, a date night with my husband of 25 years, a dinner night with my brother & sister-in-law, a daily phone call to at least one friend… a daily visit to my in-laws, and a daily chat with my mom who seemingly lives even farther away than before all this started. Time, awareness, presence, and so much gratitude and love. This is what I have made this past year.
Thank you Katrina, for your words and as always, inspiration to find my best self
with love,
Dannielle
This year I painted an artistic journal. Words are my familiar language whereas paints are foreign to me. This has been an exciting exploration.
I crocheted 4 afghans, read numerous books, watched many movies and TV series (LOVED Jane the Virgin!), experimented with new recipes, baked MANY cakes, donated groceries to the local food bank, fed 4 colonies of feral cats in the little village we live in, stayed in touch with family and friends all over the world, and, best of all, it was an opportunity to “embrace my silver”! 👩🏻👩🏻🦳
I made self-care a priority, taking a course on mindful self-compassion for healthcare workers, and another course on yoga Nidra.
Homemade pizza dough
I knit shawls, hats, baby booties, blankets, and dishcloths that said “F**K 2020”. Since I couldn’t see or hug people, the many stitches I made with love served to show my love through their woolly warmth.
As a church musician and choir director I have had to become even more flexible and willing to learn how to use technology to provide music for our pandemic online worship services. It has been a difficult and uneasy journey for me, but learning to trust those who actually know how to organize a virtual choir and present a finished product of our church musicians has been a humbling part of my year. Making music together, while obeying CDC guidelines has been a miracle for me.
I made over 100 children happy by teaching them pottery. And my neighbour’s dog healthy by taking her on walks when my neighbour could no longer manage. Thanks for making us think outside of ourselves. You always remind me of the importance of experiencing and appreciating contentment.
Beyond Zoom gatherings and program broadcasts on our resident TV stations, creatively done in our wonderfully active retirement community…what can we do together this year? Plant milkweed gardens! This past fall I gathered, with permission, mature milkweed pods from local fields, friends donating pods. I learned how to get seeds off the fluff, distributing to any interested resident. Over 30 patio and balconey container gardens were planted. Masked, distanced, with shovels, some of us created five large milkweed gardens around the property. This summer, Welcome Monarchs! (And lantern flies, too, who die from eating milkweed!) I still need to get a haircut.
I am so deeply, deeply moved by this post, by Katrina’s profound wisdom, by her invitation, her everlasting kindness. And now to read these comments by all of you, to think about all that has been made in this year, all that has mattered. I tried to read Katrina’s entire post to my husband this morning, but kept crying. I read your comments out loud, cried more. This is where meaning lives.
Katrina I look forward so much to your thoughts & feelings in your blog. I am comforted by your words because they so often are exactly mine. Your writing about family, quiet time, kindness & much more ring true every single time. I wish I could receive an email weekly ( no pressure) to lift my spirit always. You are truly appreciated!
Thank you, again, for your beautiful and soothing words. I absolutely love the way you write. When I read your posts and your books, I feel like I am being hugged. Even though I am only a couple of years younger than you, I always say to myself that I want to be like Katrina when I grow up! 🙂
I made a net, knotting one connective loop to another. It is a net of care to catch my family in the most difficult of times. A therapist for my young daughter, a martial arts coach for my son, a best friend on our quaranteam for my eldest daughter, weekly outdoor visits from an old friend for my husband, one neurologist for my husband, two neurologists for my husband, a therapist for him and for us, a caretaker for my husband, a new friend for my husband to talk to about his illness, a monthly walk with dear old friends for me, a weekly visit with my acupuncturist for me, my mother. next door. his mother. across town. In August Graham was told he has ALS. In March we have a huddle, a team, a congregation of people loving and lifting us up. We see friends–albiet at a distance–more frequently than we have in years. These are difficult times, the most difficult, but we are held.
I made a book… my second one in about 12 years. I’m a social worker and have offered my thoughts in what has really turned out to be a love letter to the profession I am passionate about. Publishes in July- yippee!
I have made, am making, space for myself. Physical space, once I realized that with all the people in the house, my only space was communal. But also, after almost 2 decades of enabling the dreams of everyone in my family except myself, I am making space for my dreams and my voice in the world.
What a great reflection and invitation to consider, what have I made this year. Peace with myself, I think. A lot happened internally over the course of this year spent mostly inside our home, and I’m grateful.
As always, I love this, and had to slow myself down to savor each word. Thank you for your gift! What did I make this year? A podcast from my closet, an e-course for moms, lots and lots of watercolor cards – mailed with love, new friends, homemade pizzas every Friday, and so many memories. I also made meditation and morning pages a priority again. Thank you for reminding me of why with your beautiful reflections.
I’ve made peace with myself; with my mistakes and my triumphs. I’ve made peace with silence and aloneness. I’ve reconciled loss and aging. I’ve worked hard to be honest with myself and to accept that sometimes it’s the best I can do to let toxic people forge ahead without me. I’ve accepted that expectations are seldom reality in the end and it is better to live each moment.
I made salsa, lots and lots of salsa, enough not to run out before tomato season. I made tomato jam and individual cheese boards to share with friends around fire pits. I made cards printed with a cozy mug with heart or the word HOPE from the stamps I made. I made new friends or at least deeper friends already in my life in tighter ways. I made a photo scavenger hunt for my kids and a Halloween story walk and the notes and spell book and props to go with it. I made chocolate Dutch babies and sour dough crackers. I made a whole Thanksgiving dinner instead of just a few pies. I made ice cream sandwiches with peppermint stick ice cream. I made blood orange margaritas and There Is Hope cocktails. I made lots of lists of what I missed but also what I loved and the silver linings to this time.
Thank you. I needed this. I have spent many moments thinking about what I haven’t accomplished this year. But this helped me see that I did do worthy things, just not all that I had hoped. This year, I made a safe space for my niece, who has severe anxiety. She felt safe coming to my house, knowing I mostly only left it for doctors appointments and store pickups and that I took extreme care due to my health issues. I gave her a space outside of her house that she felt comfortable in and could just be. I gave volunteer time to two nonprofits, more time than I gave myself which my bank account screams at me for. But in a year where in-person events were impossible and donations were (and are) down, I helped them do virtual events which helped keep them alive and gave their members a sense of community. I made my bed all but two days. I made time for people when they needed help. I gave myself space when I felt a bit depressed. I gave myself grace when I wanted to do more but didn’t have the physical or emotional strength to do so.
I made:
An office chair (some assembly required)
Hot dog sauce from a copycat recipe of my hometown restaurant that I haven’t been able to visit in over a year
Hundreds of cotton masks
A heart bunting to send in a Valentines Day box to my adult daughters
A video showing my daughters the best way to chop an onion
A quilt (my first one!)
Aprons for Christmas gifts
Lots of sheet pans of roasted cauliflower – YUM
Homemade ricotta cheese (my first try at cheesemaking!)
A few puzzles put together
A birthday cake
A zoom happy hour “set”
Chai spiced scones
After living 76 years, I finally made peace with myself. I had always thought that I only had worth if I was contributing to the greater good in some way. Well, my days of “contributing” were abruptly cut short with the pandemic shutdown. And so I have been spending many hours living with just my husband, not seeing anyone else for long periods of time. I have come to appreciate the person I am. I love what I made this year.
Space. Space for myself to process ALL the feelings, and to work on overcoming some hard things. Space for my preschoolers to love being home since we never go anywhere else. Space for mud pies and chalk art and all the chickens no one wanted. Even though it was a crazy difficult year in many ways it was the very best one.
I made gluten-free free chocolate chip cookies and cinnamon coffee cake every single time I was asked to make them.
I made dinner every night using Asian and Mediterranean spices my daughter sent me for my birthday. I researched recipes, experimented and kept notes on what worked, what I’d change next time and what I wouldn’t make again. It was a great project and we got to have a fun experience every night. My husband was very enthusiastic and appreciative and he’s promised a fabulous dinner date night as soon as we can eat indoors at a restaurant again. Hopefully in time for our 50th wedding anniversary this summer.
A lot of memories!
I’ve made peace with my life, although it will always be a work in progress. I’ve written journal entries and memories, and a family member has made a recording of me sharing thoughts and memories.
I made natural soap — lots and lots of soap! While others started sourdough and baked delicious goodies, I chose to make messes in my kitchen that didn’t involve food at all. Soapmaking has been a hobby for about four years and this last year, I found myself with orders to fill. When the supply outpaced the demand, I wrapped up the extra bars and donated them to homeless shelters and food pantries. P.S. I also made lots of jigsaw puzzles and planted wildflowers and Asiatic lilies.
At first I thought.. I have made nothing. Then I saw your examples and thought, wow! I cancelled a trip to Greece with my brother and his wife and was grateful to receive most of my money back. I have made hundreds of homemade dinners for my husband, including chicken noodle soup weekly; baked lots of desserts and cookies and delivered half to my grandchildren’s porches; have written in my journal; started reading the Bible; made strawberry jam; planted a vegetable garden for the first time; had a beautiful harvest of tomatoes, lettuce, peppers, and squash; made homemade greeting cards to send; wrote letters to my adult children and grandchildren and mailed them! I have fed the birds all winter and enjoyed 7cardinals all at once in my tree. I have learned to enjoy quiet, peace, and snowstorms. I have made coffee every morning and enjoyed sitting quietly with my husband as we watched the birds in the snow. I have made something after all!
I made 2020 count. Instead of fearing dying, I kept living. I visited friends, my parents, went on vacation, continued to go to the gym, dined out – did it all. With a mask on. I refused to hunker down and worry what MAY happen to me in 2020. Instead I went on vacation destinations I otherwise would have brushed past as not exciting enough or far enough away to count. I am so glad I didn’t lose a year of my life. I became a better cook during 2020. I am most proud of that along with living responsibley not fearfully. I often wonder if my brother will regret skipping Christmas this year when he realized my college age daughter took a part time job and he feared for his safety being exposed? I just don’t get it…
“What have I accomplished?” Ouch. This question seems to set value on only what one has DONE, not on who we are/ becoming. That’s troubling.
In this year I have done, true, but also relinquished. Created – new dishes, a blue wall in my basement gardening area, but also stopped participating in a worthwhile activity that was nonetheless tying my stomach in knots because of an interpersonal clash I couldn’t fix. Fewer things, (ahh, that basement clearing. Happening, but slowly, finding new homes for the no-longer-needed) as well as fewer demands. Fortunate, so fortunate – my husband and I are retired, financially secure, now vaccinated. But…haven’t hugged our two grandchildren in over a year. FaceTime helps, but Theo has a hard time doing it through a screen. A year of both loss (a dear friend to Covid) and gift (church online, in my bathrobe and cup of coffee) life is like that, loss and gift.
I’ve made peace: with my daughter’s college choices (not the small liberal arts school I’d imagined for her); with my son’s marijuana use although I so strongly disagree (and WORRY); with my youngest’s entrance into her teen years (and her matching my 5’11” height at 13!). There is much that’s ripped my heart apart, and thus my only path towards healing was the hard work of making peace – daily, with conscious stitches of open hearted vulnerability and a whole lot of prayer.
I’ve made peace with my retired self and am finding the answer to my question “what will I do after I retire and am no longer defined by my job?”
I have made peace with what is. Fear no longer rules my life. In fact fear is no longer part of my experience. And so it is. Amen.
I made peace with my 80 year old mother with whom I’ve had a difficult relationship in recent years. This year gave me the space to consider the healing power of forgiveness as I moved through grief, disappointment, and compassion.
This year I ordered groceries online for my parents across the country in their 80s and taught them and myself how to Zoom. I taught weekly youth group for homebound teenagers to encourage their hearts. I supported my mother through her second breast cancer diagnosis and surgery. Dealt with my own MS flare up and slow recovery. I had surgery too. I did an entire kitchen remodel and it’s beautiful. I’m teaching my 15 year old son how to drive. But mostly I cherished my time with my 12 and 15 year old children and savor the fun and silly moments of each day. As Katrina says “the gift of the ordinary day” is the true blessing.
Beautiful post, and I appreciate you sharing the moment of chiding that you moved through—I’ve felt that voice so many times this year, and it helps to be reminded that others feel it too! And look at all the loveliness you have made. This year, I have made homemade Valentines (the more glitter and pink and lace, the better), food for my neighbors, patches for a much loved quilt, and cozy new spots in my small house as it’s stretched to fit my entire life.
I also jumped on the sourdough band wagon and started with bread and moved to bagels. Making sourdough bread on a weekly basis is not a good thing when there are only 2 people in the house !
At the start I also made myself get on the yoga mat a couple times a week. By the time January rolled around I didn’t have to make myself do it, I looked forward to doing it ! I have been doing it almost daily since then. I have been practising yoga for almost 40 years and this is the first time I have a regular practise ! Thrilled to bits.
A renewed deep connection with my grandson. We drove from Minnesota last fall and again in January to New Hampshire to provide daily loving care while his parents work from home. The absolute best use of my time during this break from normal life. Each day is delightful through the eyes of a two year old!
I made 362 dinners, countless bouquets from the flowers I planted, friends with my neighbors, and a new narrative to reframe the grief and stagnation.
This year I made a mess of things. I made a new start. I made mistakes and I made up my mind. I made amends and I made new beginnings. I made some people angry, and I made some people laugh. I made some wrong turns, but more right ones. I made it our of bed every day and I made a promise to keep moving forward.
Beautiful!
I made deeper connections with some friends and acquaintances. I made a new stronger connection with my big Irish extended family as we met each month (sometimes 40 of us) on Zoom from across the country. I made the effort to help those whose hands I couldn’t hold, but whose hearts needed solace.
I have made google slides, so many google slides, to teach literacy to first and second graders. And while I can’t wait to sit right next to them again while they learn to read and write, I now know how to reach children who might not be able to get to school, or who I might end up tutoring remotely. I didn’t even know teaching this way could happen in August. But here we are in March, and it hasn’t been all bad. I was still able to make connections. We found a way to make it work.
I have made more time for my family, more time for making dinner and playing board games. Like you, a garden, some cakes, some great meals. Flowers in the house almost every week. Nothing big, yet it is everything.
I have made the time to be more reflective and have gotten some penpals along the way.
I made endless meals and snacks for a growing teen, and made her feel safe enough to stay this world after several suicide attempts. I made patience aplenty for home schooling and working from home myself. I made a crotched blanket for a homeless charity. I made a collection of food from my neighborhood for the local food Bank. I made space to listen to my desire to take yoga teacher training, to change jobs to one I infinitely prefer.
I made a new piece of art every day for 100 days, at first to cheer myself and then to cheer others. I also created a safe and stable environment for my husbands return to home following a bad injury, surgery and long months of rehab. I found joy in all of the many little moments that made up our days.
I made fig preserves – loads of them – over and over to give away, to give myself a sense of purpose and beauty and order and nourishment in a really difficult year and I made more space for myself. By taking up yoga at almost 40 years old and letting go of a few toxic relationships. Yes to all that we made this year!
After working at the same company for over 17 years, I found myself without a job last April. Trying to secure employment as a single woman at age 63 is difficult at best. As a result of, I’ve faced many challenges over the course of the year, but I still have my head above the water! So in short, my answer to the question is:
I.MADE.IT.THROUGH! ❤️
I have had time to get to know me and I have I’ve made peace with myself. I look forward to each tomorrow, each day always a gift.
I so appreciate you Katrina and what you express so eloquently. I’ve made a variety of things this year—most especially an entirely homemade lasagne including making the pasta as well. It may very well have been my most delicious creation. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to remember it!
I have had time to get to know me and I have made peace with myself. I look forward to each tomorrow, each day always a gift.
During this past year, I have accomplished quite a few things:
1. My husband teaches and writes, so I have learned to be alone more than usual.
2. I have fixed our dinner almost every night. My husband had done a large share of the food shopping.
3. I have written reviews on Goodreads of the 83 books that I have read.
4. I have texted almost daily with my friend in DC; I live on Cape Cod. We went to the same high school, but became close as new mothers 52 years ago.
5. I have texted or talked to my daughter in AZ almost daily. She has had a lot of updates to share as she and her husband have been going thru IVF. Just this week, she became pregnant!
6. I have knitted 3 blankets for their baby and started a sweater.
7. I have done hip exercises & ridden my exercise bike daily during the cold weather.
8. I recently began walking outside, back & forth on our dead end street.
9. My husband and I have watched all the series of Prime Suspect, Tennison, and Vera.
10. We have stayed in close touch with our four children, six grandchildren, Four in laws, six grand dogs, and two grand cats in addition, we dote on our own black Lab.
11. We have completed about 30 jigsaw puzzles, and I started a Puzzle Exchange with my women’s group.
12. I continued delivering library books to a house bound woman.
13. I organized and continue to lead a small book group that meets monthly on zoom.
I made a decades long dream come true – I still can’t believe it.
What a lovely post! I’ve been making lunches. Lots and lots of lunches, with hubby working from home. And banana bread. And making purchases of toddler craft kits online to help support our kids while their little ones are at home with them. But mostly I’ve been creating posts on my blog, http://www.TheAuthenticLane.com.
Thank you Katrina for your honesty and your invitation to share what we have made (not DONE) this past year. Like so many, I have made a home for my family — a loving,nurturing safe space for us all to be. I have made peace with where I am, not wanting to be anywhere else, not striving to DO something more or BE somewhere else of ACCOMPLISH anything other than just being where I am. Just be. It is enough. I have made time and room for myself in our busy life to explore what is in my heart. I have made ME truly a priority for the first time ever.
I made 2 pen pals! One lives in Oregon, the other in New York. (I live in Utah.) I love writing letters, sending stickers, quotes, sharing stories. This has been such a creative way of getting to know someone and share a bit of who I am as well.
When a sanguine like me is forced to be at home, the fun of hosting friends and family taken away, it took me a while to figure out how to keep from going crazy. So several months ago, I made a HUGE batch of Mrs. Fields Cookies, bagged them up in zip log bags, and dropped them on friend’s and family’s porches. It was so much fun to text and surprise them with little homemade treats. Then when Valentine’s Day rolled around this year, I made 150 dipped and decorated strawberries and repeated the process. I’m looking forward to someday soon, filling my dining room table with friends and family.
This year, I made space for my self. Amidst all the cramped physical and mental space of the shelter-in-place, I found the space to be still. To turn off the Zoom classes and stop grading papers, to make space to meditate, to watch the squirrels try their best to upend my birdfeeders, and to see my adult children strive to adapt to the changes in college, wedding plans, and living spaces. Through it all, my self has been given wings to try out – and the space to fly.
I have made it here…11 1/2 months after the death of my beautiful mom and most important woman in my life❤️.
I have made room for HOPE to exist in my heart.
I have made my way through 45 ish books in the past year. Some light and some very heavy depending on what I could handle at that moment.
I made many many baked goods and compotes and pestos and jars of roasted tomatoes all to be eaten by us or given to friends.
What a lovely post with so many lovely replies. Thank you for this. Peace.
This year has been filled with TIME…to spend in nature hiking with my dog in the foothills around my home, to be with my husband every day and to share long hugs with him, to write and mail hundreds of GET OUT THE VOTE postcards to AZ, GA, FL, and PA, to take my daily French lessons and dream of traveling back to France someday, to spend time with neighbors and friends from a safe distance, to finally do an almost daily meditation, to read wonderful books and discuss them on ZOOM monthly with my Book Group friends, to knit a baby blanket for a friend’s granddaughter, to monitor a Golden Eagle nest for a Raptor Monitoring program in my western town, to write in my journal daily, and to GO SLOW…which is a nice change from pre-Covid life.
I’d like to think I’ve made it through some of the grief of losing both my parents and my parents-in-law within 18 months of 2019 and 2020.
I have made a calmer, a more accepting, connected, prayerful & grateful version of myself amidst being a frontliner with my husband. I have learned life lessons from our new puppy from drinking water, napping, being forgiving and being present in the moment. I have made lasting friendships and memories 💕.
PS. Love the posts. So heartwarming to learn from all of you.
I have made my home a place of comfort and refuge. I have trimmed the giant jade, the towering bougainvilla, the sprawling Chinese Elm and the dreadful Pittosporum. Our front courtyard is open and inviting now.
I yearn to be with friends and family. I yearn to sit for hours talking, laughing, connecting. I’ve put the four outdoor chairs in a circle and now I await the day when my friends will arrive and sit down and we will be together.
I’ve made countless new recipes for the family. Now my girls call me officially the best chef in the world.
I’ve made memories with the girls at the beach when we could travel again domestically. They felt especially especial, indulgent, amid the pandemic.
I’ve made reading part of my identify. I need 1-2 hrs of reading daily to slowdown my spinning mind. A side effect is that my older daughter loves reading as much as I do now.
I have faithfully made my husband chocolate chip cookies through this whole pandemic. And, I have made peace with myself through greater patience, acceptance, and forgiveness.
I made a magnetic bulletin board from antique ceiling tiles, many loaves of banana bread, many bouquets, a sign for my mom in a nursing home and trips to see her outside her window.
Thank you for your beautiful blog! I wrote a whole set of new curriculum for my university students adapting old classes to online learning! I worked hard to create a online classroom environment where the students were able to connect with each other and me and feel less isolated. I tried to create a space where the students could process their thoughts and feelings about the pandemic and know that there were people who were struggling too and cared about them.
I made peace with the loss of both of my parents 100 days apart from each other, knowing I did all that I could for them during these unprecedented times and throughout their “senior” years. Neither contracted the COVID-19 virus, however, both were impacted by the isolation, lack of socialization, lack of stimulation, and lack of exercise resulting from the virus. They were 97 and 96 years young and had been married 67 years when they died. I made the decision to retire from my 44 year career to help care for my new granddaughter, who was born 6 weeks after my dad passed and 5 months after my mom did. I helped my husband construct an apartment for my son, his wife and their new baby adjacent to our home and am grateful to have them here with us.
I made the decision to allow my family to help me. I am living well with cancer, but Covid-19 created new, unexpected challenges. To say it was difficult to have roles reversed would be an understatement. All my adult life I served my special people, but day by day, I listened to their concerns and agreed with their wisdom. I pray I will someday be able to resume my original role of “giver” but until then, Grace visits me often and I am thankful for lessons learned.
I am an essential healthcare worker for my entire career . I am a geriatric social worker in a skilled nursing facility . It has been such a long stressful year with many stages . In the beginning I supported many of my patients who were alone through the end of their life with dignity, We then transitioned to my patients not dying , but have serious never ending illness as a result of Covid . My gift to them was to encourage them to fight the battle and most survived . Then my daily gift was to support my families and make a bridge of communication for them so they could feel involved with their loved ones situation . When I went home my gift to my husband to teenagers was to be their strength and light that this too will pass . We also have treasured hikes , sunsets, coyotes in the woods, owls in our back yards , and our deck , yard and garden . I honor all the simplicity and complexity that this year brought me , it’s all part of the journey .
Gratitude has always been front and center in my life, and I constantly ask what I did to be so blessed. I’d like to think I have made an even more grateful and kind version of myself, especially when I look around and see what others have had to deal with during the past year. Nothing heroic, but just little things in my corner of the universe – a (masked) smile or listening ear when needed, food donations, a card sent to the mom of a dear friend with health issues, making vaccine appointments for everyone in my extended family who is eligible. And prayers filled with gratitude and hope. May we all emerge from this trying time to find hope, healing, and happiness. Blessings.
One poem.
A few good loaves of bread.
A bounteous harvest of holy basil.
A baby (I was just entering my second trimester in March 2020). And now he eats and goos and crawls around.
Thank you for your most beautiful words and reminders of “beingness”.
Your words are like balm to the soul.
I have become a certified mindfulness and meditation teacher and completed writing the content for my new website. All while I am the mother of my ten-year-old daughter, my fifteen-year-old son, a wife, a cancer thrive, and in a time, when lost my father and 26 years old niece three weeks apart.
Thank you for the opportunity to write it and acknowledge how huge it is all is.
Many thanks,
Iris
I made a commitment to tend to my inner world by facing all of my emotions as they appear, every single day.
(Thank you for being you, Katrina!)
I made (with help from my husband and an arborist who took down some trees to provide more light) a food forest in our back yard. Peach, plum, pear, apple, and fig trees, blackberry, raspberry, blueberry, serviceberry (June berry), black currant, and red currant bushes, asparagus, rhubarb, hardy kiwi, a grape vine, and room for annual veggies. In the front yard, we created two more large flower beds – on a steep hillside, no less. All of this on just under a third of an acre!
I also read 200 books in 2020, and finally got back to acrylic painting. Staying busy was a mental health necessity this year.
I made a gratitude box so we could put our thoughts and blessings down on paper. It kept us grounded and was central to keep positivity in the forefront during the most challenging days.
I made a promise to myself that I would make it through this tough year stronger than ever. I have skied, walked, biked and hiked almost every day to keep up my strength despite my age of 73. I also have had the time to visit my library and read whatever I want and always spend time in the kitchen to make sure good meals are ready. And of course when the reading gets good, supper is often breakfast! Thank you to all the readers for your inspiring words of how you all survived the year.
I’ve made a choice to get to know my daughters better! They are grown, married and raising their own children! I’ve done this in person, by text and by video chats. We took walks all masked up too.
They are unique, loving and supportive of me and each other.
I am very proud of both of them as they figured out how to get through this year with work and family life struggles.
I love watching them live the lives they have chosen. They have flown but not far away!
A half-dozen prayer shawls, a half-dozen scarves, and hats for those in need
New beginnings on the garden
Reconnections with people from 40 years ago
Peace with myself and my alone-ness
A new commitment to my future, whatever it may hold
I wrote 600 letters to apprehensive voters, hoping beyond hope to make a difference in this past election.
I made a home for birds, offering seed, jelly, and fruits (attracting orioles and bluebirds and dozens of other species) as they built their own nests and raised their young in the spring and summer, and offered sustenance through the fall and winter.
I created dozens of boxed card sets and shipped them off to friends to encourage connection.
We welcomed a new puppy into our lives, and he in turn gave us a delightful distraction from all the suffering.
The most important thing I made though, was dinner every night, creating a treasured space for connection between my youngest daughter (a senior in HS ready to fledge next fall) and my husband and me while all the while wishing our oldest daughter (who was quarantined at grad school) could be with us.
I’ve made time. And some peace with myself. I’ve made less of myself and more of others.
The words I spoke in 2020 became the home I lived in. Somehow , someway all the years of having a spiritual practice, I was able to create a sense of freedom by living intentionally! Supporting and being a touchstone for many of my circle of women brought me a sense of purpose, kept me grounded and bought me joy! Campaigning for a healthier leadership and Volunteering at an outdoor food pantry channeled my frustrations and kept hope fully alive! Facilitating a prayer group for my friend Ann who was facing the end of her life helped me accept death as part of life and fed me the courage I needed to walk courageously by Ann’s side accepting her final breath! My daily mantra in 2020 was “my precious gift of this day belongs too so how should I be of service”
I made one-eighth of a circle of women, not all of whom I knew at the start. Only my sister knows us all. We’ve supported each other through this year via email, with poetry, rants, cries of sorrow and outrage, through tears and fears, giving love freely. We live on both U.S. Coasts, in Australia and Norway. We hope someday to meet in person. Even if we can’t, it won’t matter…I don’t need to see their faces to feel their love.
I’ve made many things, (clothes, meals, a novel), but my real breathrough came in this last month of hard lockdown (I live in Italy where infections are on the rise again) when I made peace with my father’s dementia through cultivating a regular drawing habit; posting drawings of him on Instagram and Facebook reminded his old friends that he is still here, celebrated the small scraps of connection between us and brought me into contact with people struggling with the same situation.
Good Morning!
I have paraphrased you too many times to quantify! Thank you always for your time and honest emotions. I lived all the things you made this last year but especially the two cross stitch wall hangings . Would you kindly share where I van find those patters.
Denise
Looking back at all those comments, I’m humbled. It took me a bit to figure out what I have made, but then it finally dawned on me — I made a decision. I decided, well, WE (Nicholas and I) decided that we don’t have to stay in this place where we’ve lived for 18 years but never felt at home. We can move to the mountains of Virginia where we are happiest. We don’t need to wait until he retires or all the kids are ‘set’, we can go now. The pandemic proved that work can be done virtually. This was a wonderful hillside to raise our children, but this town is not our town. So we have spent the year preparing to leave and scouting out a landing place. Soon. We will go.
We retired to Staunton, VA and absolutely love it! Blue Ridge on one side and the Alleghenies on the other side. Where is your dream spot?
Amidst this year of isolation, anxiety and sadness, I have made a multitude of new friends while walking in my neighborhood and I’ve realized that I am really fortunate to live in this community. It is a community made up not only of people but also of our dog-companions. Initially, I knew only the dog names, but over the course of the past 12 months, we humans have shared more than just our names. We’ve talked about politics, the friends and family members who’ve died this past year, the meals we’ve made and the ones we are planning to make. We’ve share stories and pictures of the coyotes and a bobcat who are often seen in our yards and heard hunting in the woods near us. And, most recently, we talk about the vaccine and our own experiences with scheduling and receiving or waiting to come up I the vaccine queue. I treasure this gift and hope that when things begin to open up and resume a more “normal” routine, that my community of neighbors and friends will continue to meet up and share our stories while walking our dogs.
I made a choice to get out of bed in time to give my 22-year-old a hug on his way out the door to work each morning, and I already treasure the memory of all of them. I made Zoom calls each week to a group of girlfriends who have been cheering each other up all year. I made countless Instacart orders, and later, trips to the grocery store in order to make dinner most nights for my family of four. I made takeout orders to help keep our local restaurants going. I made dozens of quarts of soup to give away to local food banks. Thank you, Katrina, for giving validity to all the important ordinary things we all do and seldom value enough.
I started small and made containers for the caterpillars I plucked from the milkweed I planted. Wasps were eating the “cats” so I had to do something! Eventually I had more caterpillars than I could accommodate and had to hit up Amazon for some mesh cages. Pure joy in helping the caterpillars through their life stages and releasing beautiful monarchs.
A stronger relationship with my children is the thing that stands out more than anything else. Forced to share spaces, time, and resources, we found our voices and better words to communicate with one another, actual dialogue, remembering complete sentences and thoughts, and lots of laughter and gratitude. All of that feels like a huge win as going into this, my teenagers were already pulling away more than I liked. I hope they look back on this year and see how well we got along too, that we laughed much more than we fussed, and that we appreciated what we have. Adversely, I hope our dog doesn’t remember that as much or he will really struggle when we’re back to daily school and work away from home!
I’ve made sourdough bread! I’ve thought many times over the years about trying to learn how to make a starter and make bread from it, but never took the time to learn. Suddenly everyone (it seemed from Instagram) was making sourdough bread when all the yeast was gone from our stores. So, I bake a weekly loaf of sourdough bread on Sunday mornings. Created a Sunday Sabbath with my husband and share a slice of sourdough, like our communion bread.
I’ve knitted baby hats, and shawls and dish cloths. Rediscovering my love for knitting.
Thank you Katrina for your beautiful words.
The other thing you’ve done this year, is made a lot of people smile with what you’ve shared with us in your blog.
I made… a new friend.
I made… my daughter smile.
I made… a commitment to greet each day with a walk in the forest.
I made… lemon miso soup with chickpeas and greens.
I made a quiet lap available to napping cats.
I made up my mind that the making in itself is unimportant, but the savor is everything!
I give up. It won’t take it. WordPress says the problem is related to a plug-in on your site. I’m so sorry I can’t write my full comment because I made a lot this year I wanted to share with you.
Trying again — I made: a comprehensive family history book.
Dozens of watercolors
Loads of cookies, breads and new recipes.
Piles of raked pine needles
Needle-felted ornaments, a Covid journal and dyed Easter eggs.
Lots of lists and lots of messes.
I made decisions about what to keep or donate; legal and financial decisions and decisions to stay well and safe, even if they were heartbreaking.
I made space — space in the house, space for those I loved and space from people.
I made a new little world that felt safe, if not perfect.
I am continuing to try to make peace with my covid anxiety.
I enjoyed this post so much. I too have been tough on myself about my “productivity” this year, but I have made a lot! Hundreds of meals. So many loaves of bread, delicious cakes, cookies, muffins. At the beginning of the pandemic I revived my embroidery practice and wound up completing many little projects that brought joy to my days and now bring color and happiness to our walls.
I made one of the biggest, most important decisions of my life. I know I might not have made it without the pandemic.
What a lovely post. I so appreciate your writing and memories. I will print this off and put it in my memories of covid pile. I made much food—baking and making meals, many for others. We walked and snowshoed and spent time outdoors. We made a bonfire. We made travel plans…in our minds at least. We made hope a priority. On we go.
I’ve made space for God every morning on my walk
I’ve made peace with the weather and embraced the cold and snow
I’ve created spaces for people, old and new friends, to come together on Zoom and share on a regular basis.
I’ve developed a greater appreciation for the birds and trees.
I’ve maintained meaningful soul time with a dear friend through Zoom
I celebrated my 80th birthday and all the holidays simply.
This year certainly has been a journey, both physically and mentally. While the days have been challenging, I have learned a lot about myself and my family. My children have decided that pandemic or no pandemic, life was made for moving forward. My daughter got engaged in August,2020. My son bought his first house also in August of 2020.
They are resilient. I applaud them. I always air on the side of being careful, but they have taught me that life doesn’t keep you stuck, you do. Doing nothing is still a choice. I applaud them. You’re never too old to learn. Even in a pandemic, life and decisions do not stop. My friends’ children are having babies, moving and continuing to do all the normal things in life. Resiliency is a good word for this year. Also, now that my husband and I have received both the Covid 19 vaccine shots, we feel more hopeful for the future. We look forward to the day when all family members and
the public can receive their shots. Then I can dance at my daughter’s wedding.
Normally a procrastinator, this year I baked my way through a cake cookbook, all of which we gave away by doing drive-by-dessert-delivery to friends’ mailboxes. I’ve also started knitting the “Year of Hats” hats, made several quilt tops, and drove on all of our county’s roads (and marked them with highlighter on a regional map). But most especially important, we have been able to read with our grandson almost every single day on Facetime. We’ve read several classics, a few series, and a little non-fiction as he started every morning with a call to us before starting his remote-school day. We are so very fortunate to have had this gift and are truly grateful. And thank you both for your generous giveaway.
This year I’ve made an art/sport out of keeping the kitchen stocked without going into scary windowless stale-aired stores. I orchestrate my delivery orders masterfully, allowing for inevitable disappointments.
I have not completed my memoir as intended during quarantine. Staring at the blank page and feeling the stories of long past irrelevant. But this exercise, this exercise has given me the gift of taking positive stock and the community of love in words from strangers on how they love and what they do when all is uncertain have blossomed inward towards self—my own heart.
After losing my psychotherapy office so dear to me and my clients, I created a safe place within my home to continue my work of healing through the art of connection. Healing through present listening. I held virtual hearts and hands with an 18 year old orphaned by covid—both parents gone, an ICU nurse fighting the constant image of wrapping bodies and then fighting for her own life, college freshman unraveled by isolation and zoom, a woman just six months married learns of her husband’s (29 yo) ALS diagnosis and loses him within the year, a woman shares stories of fear from the confines of her car—afraid her boyfriend will listen, a young girl fighting so hard to stay present in her body, she finds refuge in bed and fails out of college, a new mom can’t get her baby to thrive and blames herself, another is outraged because her kids can not even help with the dishes, a man full of shame for feeling anxiety, a hospital executive that supports Trump ( that one was hard, but I listened).
And the writing groups I ran with Project Write Now. Mondays with the Red Bank Public Library, we shared our fear and laughter and wrote about this historic and unprecedented time. Saturdays with Womyn’s Worth, a group of women that have found their way out of homelessness and abuse share their stories on the page of strength, wisdom and hope. Wednesdays with teens of addicted parents we write of Edgar Allen Poe and all things gore, we write of not being seen and being seen, we write of disappointment and anger—we write of inner strength.
And lastly, my women’s psychotherapy group that has had the same members for almost twenty years. They have been each other’s life lines through divorce, infidelity, grief and loss, depression, surgeries…but the laughter! The laughter they share sends me over the moon like nothing else.
So, I guess this is a shout out to myself. I have made a safe place wherein stories are sacred, stories are honored and stories are retold through a lease of strength, courage and a new found love of self.
I love this post and your list and photos…you made so many beautiful things. When I look back and reflect on this year, it feels both so short (how has it been a year already) and so long. So many things I have made have come and gone (like an annual garden). I have one kiddo who has changed so much in the past year. I’ve made a handful of tangible things…the garden, many many meals, a little knit hedgehog, knitted washcloths, my way through a mending pile that is full again, etc. But really, I have made memories.
Like many others. I have made masks, lots of masks. For healthcare workers, for immigrants, and for my family and myself. I make more than 100 letters to send to people all over the country, encouraging them to vote. Both of these activities were very gratifying! Last of all, I made music! I refined some of my long-lost piano skills and ordered musical arrangements by a favorite composer.it’s lifted my spirits and I’m grateful for this gift.
Thank you for this essay and for sharing your makings.
I made a practice of forgiveness, something I never understood before. This quiet year has revealed to me that forgiveness is living in the present, and leaving wounds and disagreements in the past.
I have made many loaves of sourdough bread.
Because of Covid, I’ve had time to accomplish things I otherwise wouldn’t have had time for. Last spring I completed an online, “Whole foods/plant based” educational/cooking course, to prepare nutritionally dense meals at home in response to my husband’s recent cancer diagnosis; I wrote a piano piece to bring reprieve from Covid worry; and I’ve started playing the cello. Although these are all positives in dealing with Covid stress, the other reality is the many people who have been directly affected with the virus itself, whether having survived it, or lost a friend or family member to it’s infliction. May love guide our way forward in whatever circumstance we find ourselves, and heal all that is wounded within us.
Dearest Katrina,
Writing has always been a way for me to bring understanding within my my relationship to self, others, and the world around me. I appreciate your constant observation of nature as a way to find connection with our past, present, and future. To reflect deeply is to look, listen, and feel. This past year, I have learned new ways of doing things. I have made new friendships, connections, and met with people all over the world virtually. As a nurse, I have made awful situations more comforting to those who have lost loved ones and supported my colleagues during physically and emotionally draining circumstances. I have created a safe space inside our home for my kids to grow into kind, caring, compassionate human beings who are able to adapt to new surroundings and persevere. I have made art, poetry, and music as a way to nourish my spirit. I have made a winter compost, planned out my garden for this spring, and took a hard look at how much plastic I use. have made choices that support and lift others up instead of staying silent, turning away, or ignoring that they exist. I have carved out time to read other people’s words, listen to their stories, and understand what hope really means by hearing other people’s emotions. I have written in my journal as a form of therapy and meditation. Most importantly, I have made space in my heart for understanding and that clarity has allowed me to love myself and others more.
Thank you Katrina for your post. This past year I made the decision to be the best boss I could be to my employees(as we are law enforcement and worked non-stop for the last year amid all the Covid details and riots that occurred). I also made the decision that when I was not at work(mostly to eat and sleep) that I would be present for my family and friends. It turned into a year of family and friendships that grew even stronger. Now I am making the decision to take care of me…eating better, back to my workouts and getting more rest.
Thank you for your service.
I love all that you have shared that you have made and that you have asked us to share. I’m typically a quiet follower…
I have made a new routine for myself because I retired as a teacher, I’ve few knitted pieces, many new recipes and enjoyed slow cooking, read many books, and I’ve join a Ayurveda Collective and I’ve diving-in to educating myself on that subject and I re-found you…through Margaret Roach’s Podcast. When my children were young enjoyed Mitten Strings and after that podcast hunted down and enjoyed Magical Journey!!!
150 loaves of bread. 365 dinners. Two new apartments in a town that’s desperate for housing. A new friend who brought me a new job I love. I don’t *think* I made any new enemies but I’m sorry to say I didn’t lose any of the old ones. Four sweaters. Twenty-one potholders. So many zoom calls. Some legislation.
I didn’t finish my novel but I did work on it. A few poems. At least two dozen pies because I made 24 batches of pie crust in March and I baked the last one on Saturday.
I think I need to make some more pie crusts.
I enjoyed this essay and I’m enjoying reading the responses.
During this pandemic time, I have made the point to appreciate this time as a sort of bonus time we’ve had as a family. A seemingly endless string of “ordinary days” in a time in history that is far from ordinary. As with everything, this time will end and we will go back to “normal” at some point. I wonder if we will look back on this time and long for these days at home, just us.
Other things I have made:
I took up embroidery and made 50 pandemic ornaments.
I made my children hike more than they would have chosen to.
I occasionally made myself stop doom scrolling the news.
I made an effort to understand the other side.
I finally made a garden.
I made a point to check in on my friends.
I made a point to appreciate the magic in all of these ordinary days.
Thank you, Katrina, for continuing to post along with everything else you’ve been doing. So much! I’m tempted to compare (I’ve done so little – I want to be like you when I grow up) and yet in the spirit of your challenge……I’ve made a home for two adult kids forced back to the nest by Covid and for a very anxious shelter cat, now my best buddy. I’ve written less, created less but have baked more, collected more and more to my “to read” pile. I’ve spun my wheels on everything I thought I “should” be doing (“Make good use of this time!” ‘Turn it into something productive!”) and instead concentrated on the small (tending to neighbors, organizing photos into albums) and the larger internal (getting reacquainted with self, practicing mindfulness). I’ve read political books, mailed post cards, mailed letters, sent emails, and breathed a sigh of relief. I chose a nursing home for my mother and visited her outside of her window after only daily phone calls for over a year. Mostly, I’ve survived through the good grace of friends who were also surviving, propped each other up when spirits flagged and overwhelm reigned. I have loved and been loved.
I became part of a support group for women who are undergoing breast cancer treatment or who are survivors of breast cancer last April. I was diagnosed with a recurrence in December of 2019 and underwent mastectomy, chemotherapy, and radiation. Through weekly Zoom meetings we became a community and everyone was instrumental in getting me through some very trying time. I had my last radiation session at the end of September and am now feeling well and looking forward to being outside more. The quiet time inside gave me time to think deeply about how I want to live my life after this year. And, I wait for the day this support group will be able to be together in person.
I have been able to create a path forward in this time when there was nowhere to go, and I am so very thankful. I am waiting for my second Hospice training to begin, because one thing this pandemic has told me is that it is an honor to accompagny someone on their end of life journey – and there is a huge need for hands to help.
I have made time to learn and grow through my Journey to Light group and classes on connecting with the Divine, soul colors, loving boundaries, letting go of racist beliefs, and finding joy. With this group of women, I have been made to feel safe, loved and held. I have also made countless calls to local bookstores to share books with family and friends. I have made more time to meditate. I am grateful for the beauty of living in the White Mountains during this isolating year.
Thank you, as always, for your beautiful words!
I made peace with aging, peace with illness, peace being still, peace with accepting what is and learning that plans are temporary. I am getting more comfortable with myself and being with myself. Oh, and I made a COVID journal to give to our library for future generations 🙂
I made a lot of comics with my ten-year-old budding artist who always gives me encouraging compliments and never questions whether the blobish-monsterish things I draw are actually supposed to be something, well, recognizable.
I found the silver lining in Zoom! Our nonprofit organization, The Parent Venture, helped 12,000+ parents make their way through the most difficult year in our lifetimes. From events on “How to be An Anti-Racist Parent” to “Finding Digital Balance and Well-Being” and “Cannabis and the Young Brain,” we ramped up our programming to address the urgent needs of parents, kids, and families. So rewarding! So exhausting!
Thank you for your latest essay. While we missed out on a lot (my daughter was a senior last year) our family still made memories. We took a lot of hikes, played board games and had good discussions.
I made space inside for one child’s severe depression and one child’s deep sadness about that depression.
We fed chickadees at a local park yesterday. It is such a peaceful experience. I made a paw patrol cake for my daughter’s 4th birthday. I had hoped to learn how to do embroidery. Looks like I still may have time…
I made a watercolor painting of a mountain in Vermont for my son, who requested ‘something Vermonty’ as he now lives in Chicago. When he opened it, he smiled, saying ‘I knew it would be perfect’; it turned to be a mountain he had just climbed with his fiance. He now keeps it next to his bed with the sugar maple leaf watercolor I painted for him last year, just a single leaf. And I am now filled with joy and gratitude.
I made room in our home to welcome back my adult son and his dog, Cammie, to live with us because he needed help. It’s been unexpected time with a beloved but often troubled child now grown and a wonderful, loving furry companion that I didn’t know I needed.
I made a comfortable and loving home for our new dog Max.
You ask a good question, I had to think about it. As a fiber artist I completed many works in progress, really old works in progress, easy answer. But what did I make during the Pandemic? I made myself stronger and healthier. In February 2020, I was diagnosed with a rare Autoimmune disease .where my immune system is attacking and weakening my muscles. After the diagnosis, everyday I have physically worked to improve my strength. At the diagnosis, I had lost the use of my arms and hands and could only walk a short distance. Since the diagnosis every day I worked out in the garden for as long as I could, I walked my dog as far as I could and just practiced breathing and the most basic of Yoga moves. Today I’m much stronger. Of course I receive invusions of very strong drugs, but I MADE MYSELF STRONGER, namaste
I’ve made many new friends and strengthened connections many more. Grateful and blessed this year. Thank you for your writing and blog, Katrina. And all the comments above. Profound.
I have made friends. I’ve made friends with six women whom I met through a course on reducing anxiety; the birds who visit my birdfeeder; my sixteen month old daughter, who is growing and changing by the hour; the receptionist at my chiropractor’s office; a few neighbors; our new minister at church; and myself, in all the different ways she has shown up this past year. I have been blessed with making friends.
Katrina, your reflections have inspired me since I read “Mitten Strings for God” when my now 21 year old son was a newborn. Your words have accompanied me through my parenting journey and I have always been incredibly grateful for your wisdom and perspective. Over the past year, I made a stronger connection with my 18 year old daughter who has spent her senior year of high school learning remotely from home. It was an unexpected blessing to have so much extra time with her before she heads off to college in the fall. I also built a bed and upholstered the frame and headboard for my son’s bedroom. It was a challenging project, but very satisfying and rewarding once it was finished. As an introvert, I have cherished the slower pace and fewer commitments of the past year, but I’m definitely looking forward to more hugs and more in person visits with friends and relatives in the near future.
At the beginning of our national quarantine, I made a commitment to mail one handwritten card, note or letter to someone known or unknown. Receiving a hand-written, personal letter is uncommon enough during normal times! I assumed such an offering would be particularly welcome during our shared isolation and solitude. The response has been overwhelmingly positive and heartfelt! So much so, that I have continued to this day. I rediscovered that it is typically the small, personal acts of kindness that bring the greatest joy.
I made roughly 200 masks. Most were given or traded for beans, flour, rice or sold for $2.00. I grew tired of making them and realized the professionals make better masks. I cycled less than a normal year, but got in about 2000 miles. We bought a home on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington and made three trips there from California. I learned how to drive 1000 miles with minimal contact with anything and zero restaurants. I was less focused than I’ve ever been. My passion for sewing, cycling and reading vanished. I engaged with all three, but never for extended periods. I kept my home clean and tidy, but realized I must like it that way because nobody was here except my husband and me. I cooked meals … so many meals. Too many meals. I have more “I did not do” than “I did do” statements, but I guess surviving the year without contracting COVID, staying happily married to my husband, and now navigating “back to normal” is good enough for me. Some people are not with us and I am lucky enough to reflect and move on. So I’m grateful beyond measure for that.
Hello, I loved this blog. It was so right on and meaningful. For me my most precious pandemic creation was of me as a grandmother with the name Bubbles. I had two granddaughters born this past year. One in Maine and the other in Australia seven months apart and on the opposite sides of the world. The only way I can see them is with FaceTime and I have watched them grow, I have made silly noises, I have sung to them, I have struggled to not show my broken heart that I could not be with them most of the time. I love them and feel close to them. This period will come to an end soon and their grandma Bubbles will crawl out of the little IPhone box to kiss and hug them and crawl on the floor and push the swing in the park! I can not wait!
I have made peace with myself, spent time listening to my children, reconnected with friends, learnt to let go, enjoyed my garden and embraced the silence.
I couldn’t find my earlier comment so I am leaving another one – I don’t remember what I wrote before but here goes.
Katrina, your post is beautiful and thought provoking as always. I have worked from home for the past year; this past year my husband and I have made lots of comfy dinners as we have craved good food. We also end the day watching a bit of Netflix – an earlier comment mentioned Jane the Virgin and we did love that show too. Also The Queen’s Gambit and Atypical.