An Odd Year

And so it ends.

A year that brought unprecedented death, despair and destruction finally gasped its last breath only (depending on when you reading this) hours ago.

It was a year in which terms such as pandemic, quarantine, vaccine, PPE, n95, asymptomatic and contact tracing infiltrated our vernacular; a year in which masks were not only mandatory but actually became fashion accessories, with many carefully selecting the mask du jour to match the outfit; a year in which we agonizingly watched our loved ones die alone, surrounded not by family but by machines humming the tune of death; a year in which a deadly disease was politicized and actually became a flash point in a presidential election; a year in which our cities burned, as racial unrest bubbled over into the streets; a year in which the names George Floyd and Breonna Taylor will forever be etched in our memory and a permanent stain on the American conscious; a year in which Louisiana was the gateway for six hurricane/tropical storms slamming into its fragile coast; a year in which hurricane season itself set unprecedented records; a year in which colleges and professional teams risked the lives of so many by foolishly attempting to stage football seasons; a year in which we went into the holiday season not even sure who was going to be our next president.

This past year, and let’s just call it that and never allow the number of the actual year to cross our lips ever again, was one in which, at some point, we were all forced to look into the mirror, to take stock or even reevaluate our lives, to learn to live with less, to redefine what was important. We all had our personal struggles, whether they were mental, perhaps the most common, physical or even financial to overcome.

Personally, for me it was two potentially life threatening health issues. On two occasions, when the tunnel of darkness was so overwhelming I believed there was no light on the other side, I turned to the one person whom I love with all my heart and simply said, “I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

With her help, and because God obviously has other plans for this cantankerous old reporter, I survived.

But for all of us deeply ingrained in that darkness of this past year, even when the clouds were at their angriest, when the modern day biblical plague called coronavirus threatened an entire society, when the illumination of city lights was outshined by the flames of burning buildings, there shone a glimmer of hope.

As the new year dawns, as it takes its first breath, as the events of the past year await to be interpreted by history, hope is indeed abundant. One only needs to look in the right places.

We find hope in every syringe of the coronavirus vaccine, with a justified optimism that by the summer, life will begin returning to normal. Perhaps armed with that reality, we will never be so grateful to welcome our annual pilgrimage of heat and humidity, for this year, rather than quarantining in our own homes, we can actually be outside, with a far different perspective of the steamy days and humid nights that were taken from us a year ago.

There is also hope for healing among the races and encouraging signs that racial equality is finally on a genuine path to reality. Bishop Shelton J. Fabre of the Diocese of Houma-Thibodaux and chairman of the USCCB’s Ad Hoc Committee on Racism, offered as much when he recently told The Catholic Commentator that he finds hope in the fact that people are now talking about race and looking at race from a different perspective.

Bishop Fabre, a New Roads native and favorite son of the Diocese of Baton Rouge, said he also sees hope because he truly believes in the power of Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit coming to our assistance.

We all emerged from this year as changed individuals, and in that change we can find hope. Perhaps it’s giving our loved ones that extra hug, fully realizing the immediacy of how life can change; perhaps we can spend more time with family and friends and spend less time at the office, understanding that work will always be there but family and friends will not be; perhaps it’s finally taking that special trip that has been planned for so long or addressing items on our bucket list.

Or change might simply mean taking a walk in the park, appreciating nature, hearing God’s voice reaching out to us through the sounds of his blessed creatures.

As Bishop Fabre put it so eloquently, it is the power of Jesus and the Holy Spirit that will bring a return to normalcy, put that song back in our hearts.