Statistics give us important information and allow us to make informed decisions, but they lack a certain element of humanity; they neglect the stories and the faces behind the figures.

I was older when I learned that I could actually tip over and then right myself, and that by avoiding the possibility of capsizing and maybe even sinking, I was actually depriving myself of a lot.

These days I try to keep one foot in the here, appreciating this experience, but my other one is dancing quickly towards the future.

A friend told me the other day that February is like a speed bump, without it we would all race as fast as we could right into spring. But in fact, it’s worth slowing down so that we can truly enjoy February.

To find inspiration we must first believe in it. We must see that even in a world fraught with disease and discourse, there are stories - some every day, and some found on the world stage - that collectively give us hope and personally transform us.

We all need a good pilgrimage. It doesn’t need to be far or exotic, religious or too time consuming, just the chance to feel restored, refreshed.

Good lighting has a way of capturing the best in landscapes and in portraits. It’s a photographer’s secret weapon, and in some ways that is what this year did – it captured the best in people despite a backdrop that was dark and ominous.

Christmas trees have personality, and if you spend enough time with them, you start to hear their story.

The kitchens of my lifetime, just physical structures, are the backdrop for infinite moments both meaningful and random that I will hold onto and draw upon my entire life.

It’s been a year of high winds and strong currents, but we are reminded by that old relic from bygone days to look to those things in our lives that keep us anchored and grounded until the worst of it passes us by.

Although I do not think you will see Rumi’s quote on our card, it has stuck with me. Because it is true and feels so relevant. Now. This year.

It’s all just gotten to be too much and, personally, what I have noticed is that sometimes I just need a day. I need that day to succumb to feelings of loss, despair, and even hopelessness; a day to really feel them, to climb into bed and pull the covers up, buried, the weight not so much suffocating but cleansing.

While the Novocaine set in and my mouth felt strange and saliva dribbled down the side of my face, I thought about all of the ways in which we conduct our lives so that we can block out pain and discomfort.

I was relieved that I had passed the test that I am not in fact a robot, but confirm humanity? That seemed to indicate so much more.

I remember thinking that’s the kind of place where I want to live. A community where we care for and look out for one another, where we feel safe, where we feel connected, “where everybody knows your name” to quote a popular TV jingle.

Brady, this is for you as you head off to boarding school. And you being you, and me being me, you knew this was coming!

No parent has parented their way through this before, no teacher has ever had to teach this way, and no kid has lived this way before, so it makes sense that we all feel a little anxious.

Isaias gave me more than just eight hot days; it gave me the chance to purge and replenish. I hope post-COVID, I will take the same care in deciding what I will bring with me and what will be left behind.

Sometimes I wonder if the risk of infection is worse than the risk of compromised mental health. I was reminded this week to prioritize friendship. I was reminded that even those friends who seem to have it all, may be struggling on the inside. I was reminded to probe, to love, to care, to not hold back, and to trust our friends with our most vulnerable and honest thoughts.