2025 Reflection

This year’s reflection was originally going to be about weight. I was rather committed to the idea, thinking I could play on both the physical pounds and mental load I’ve picked up in the past 52 weeks. Each section, was going to begin with, “I gained a lot of weight this year.” Be it flesh, or stress, or responsibility, or a collapsing democracy, this year felt heavy in a peculiar way, all aspects of life seeming to fight for my attention at once and always.

I was afraid to write this year, if I’m being completely honest, because after last year’s reflection, I was hoping this one would be lined with more silver. I thought it would be a tad bit more inspirational and uplifting, because I promise you all, I don’t aim to stroke everything in blue. My heart’s desire is never to be a poor witness of God’s goodness, even though I am sometimes in need of a magnifying glass to identify it. Not because it is not ever-present, but because I have always struggled in the vision department. In fact, my first eye exam may actually be my villain origin story, because what do you mean, this is how everyone has always been able to clarify what surrounds them. What do you mean it isn’t this hazy all the time?

So I was going to write about weight, and how you can stand on a scale or amidst the scale of things, and become discouraged by what you see. I was going to write about the weight we opt into versus the weight that naturally comes with a new season. I was going to write about being a “brick house” versus housing bricks and other heavy things.

But this morning, I woke up and put on this blue jacket, and the Lord was gracious enough to send a cool breeze to drop the temperature, so I put on this red hat. I looked in the mirror and thought to myself, “Girl, you look like… Paddington The Bear.” Throughout the day I tickled myself with the association.

At some point I remembered a dad joke a co-worker told to start a meeting in good spirits.

Q: “What do you call a bear that gets caught in the rain?”

A: A drizzly bear!

I thought of Jazmine Sullivan’s “Lions, Tigers, and Bears.” How I used to belt it from my solar plexus in front of the mirror as a kid, with a conviction generally reserved for Sundays. I thought of how now, I feel more like love is the sold out affair and I’m number 3, 957, 674, 239 in the Ticketmaster queue, but dammit, I still have five tabs open.

I thought of Bear in the Big Blue House and lamented the glorious days of childhood programming. I thought of how nonchalantly I used to look at doors. Not as metaphor or access into a next level of life or another barrier to break down, but as a gateway into a house full of music, with some furry friends who just wanted to sing and explore and dream while we all talked to the moon. I miss that simplicity. I crave it…how easy it was to feel at home. These days, I’m learning to savor when that feeling visits and I shamelessly invite it to spend the night. Home is the piano I took lessons on as a child. Home is a cup of coffee in the morning in my favorite mug. Home is my best friend’s, “Checking in!” Home is Andrea Gibson’s “Acceptance Speech after Setting the World Record in Goosebumps.” Anything Diane Keaton is home. The entire catalogue of Richard Smallwood is home. Sometimes, my smile is home too.

I thought of Wicked’s Dulcibear and how simple unity could look. That the difference between being a caregiver and a criminal can be as simple as perception and permission. I thought of how connotation can shape a fate, and how I want to be a just potter. I thought of how often humans were branded animal and then caged this year. How often people could have been human but chose to be animal instead. I thought of how hate is a global economy, and how apathy is a crease we have yet to unwrinkle after all this time.

I thought of the song “More Than I Can Bear” and got a little pissed off about all those years I applied it to everything like butter to a hot pan, only to later understand its’ misapplication. That made me think of all the times this year I made an idol of my suffering, on accident, instead of practicing like I was auditioning for Idol with my worship.

But mostly, above everything else, I thought about…homonyms. I thought about how words can sound the same, how they can look alike, but how they can have completely different meanings. I thought about how I was afraid to write this year, because after last year’s reflection, I was hoping this one would be lined with more silver. I thought it would be a tad bit more inspirational, informative, and uplifting, but if I’m to be honest…this year felt…a little bare. Felt unfurnished. Felt devoid of much adornment and pictures for the fridge. I’m still figuring it out, in a bit of a homonym season, if you will.

But similar to homonyms, I’m believing that years can sound alike to the natural ear, can look alike to the natural eye, but can have completely different meanings. Just because I can’t quite make out what God’s up to, doesn’t mean nothing is happening. It just means I can’t see it right now. Maybe my villain origin story has a more redemptive arc than I ever imagined.

Anyways, “Grrrrr!” That’s “Happy New Year” in bear.