2020 has been immensely difficult, traumatic, and long, there’s no doubt about it. I had so many plans and dreams for this year before shit hit the fan - I wanted to travel more, write a book, get a tattoo. I didn't get to do any of those things, but instead I was able to do something much more meaningful - to truly make time and space for my healing and well-being.
Advent feels a bit more real for me this year. Maybe it's because we are all in this seemingly perpetual season of waiting for the pandemic to be over. Maybe it's because we are all just tired and afraid and we need all the good news (see what I did there?) we can get. For me it's also because this year has truly felt like something out of the book of Revelation, and I'm low-key wondering if maybe this is the year the heavens open up and lo, He will come, with clouds descending.