I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE FIRST PART OF THIS POST PRIOR TO SENDING IT YESTERDAY, WHICH IS WHY YOU ARE RECEIVING IT IN YOUR INBOX YET AGAIN. I APOLOGIZE! ONE OF MY NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS IS TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO USE SQUARE SPACE BLOGGING MORE EFFICIENTLY. THANKS FOR HANGING IN THERE, FRIENDS! I APPRECIATE MY READERS SO MUCH. AND HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU AND YOUR FAMILIES! MAY THIS YEAR BE FILLED WITH UNEXPECTED JOY!
My friend Ginny and I launched Forever We on September 25, 2014. We celebrated by inviting all our family and friends to a huge party, complete with a fancy dinner, live auction, and goodie bags. We were thrilled to showcase our product to the world, and more importantly, raise $30,000 that night for childhood cancer research.
Then, without any fanfare at all, we sold our last doll and called it quits for good in late 2019.
Why is it that we often don’t celebrate our endings with the same fervor we do our beginnings? It doesn’t make any sense. Endings can be awesome—think high school graduation, the closing program at summer camp, and the finish line at the end of a big race. We even call funerals—truly the last great hurrah—”celebrations of life.”
And yet, so often we end things without so much as a passing thought.
You may remember January 1, 2020. Were you as bright and hopeful as I was? We stood upon the cusp of not only a new year, but a new decade filled with possibility.
It was a glorious time.
Gavin and I have been watching the first season of Survivor, which premiered twenty years ago. Ironically, the show mirrors life. Contestants must learn how to survive in a new world surrounded by scary things. And by scary things, I don’t mean just the snakes and rats. The people were the real challenge. The goal: Achieve immunity so you can’t be voted off the island.
Back then, only the imitible Richard Hatch realized the game was never really about physical survival. It was always meant to be a social game.
He played right through to the end, ultimately celebrating with a one million dollar prize pot.
Richard Hatch knew the end was just as important as the beginning.
“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”
Generations of curious children will someday ask the question: “What was it like to live through the Coronavirus pandemic of 2020?”
I’ve heard a lot of people say this year has exposed the cracks in our relationships and in our lives. What was already weak has finally broken.
Early on, our family decided that we would celebrate all the small wins. We knew this year was going to look a lot different than the one we planned on January 1, 2020. We had to adjust our expectations and give thanks for daily blessings. Despite our disappointments, we still maintain that 2020 has given us so much to celebrate.
We prioritized mental health over physical health. We encouraged continuing education because (NEWS FLASH!) sound work is never a guarantee. Gavin earned his doctorate, Christiana discovered she could finish college early and applied to grad school, and little Gavin made the best of his first year at Auburn University. And we are still here, trying not to begin sentences with, “When this is over…” and instead marveling in the wonder that is today.
During this last week of the year, consider what it means to end well.
A quick Google search of those first Survivor contestants yields results indicating that most of them still retain an identity from being on that show. Back then, they had no idea that they were creating a whole new genre of television, one in which “getting voted off the island” would become part of the nation’s collective vernacular. The experience defined them.
And still does.
Will 2020 define you?
There’s nothing magic about that ball dropping at midnight, anyway, and so how you choose to remember and recognize this most crazy of years will be part of the legacy you leave for the next generation.
Give yourself a hand, make a poster, cross that finish line, celebrate with a song. But most importantly, choose the best parts to carry with you into 2021.
As I write this now, I wonder if Ginny and I didn’t mark the end of Forever We because we knew the end would mean something else. It would signal the beginning of an in-between—that scary space you occupy when you’re done with one thing but don’t yet know what the future holds.
But every ending is also an invitation to embark upon a new beginning. You probably learned a lot about yourself this year. Maybe you discovered a new hobby. Maybe you realized you have trust issues. Maybe you found something to be true you didn’t know before. Don’t dismiss all the good things that happened just because there was some bad stuff too. Celebrate the end, so you can embrace a new beginning armed with all you’ve learned, seen, grieved, and experienced.