Have you ever wanted to pat yourself on the back, perhaps throw a party in your honor? Has something ever happened that made you want to break out the confetti and turn up Beyonce just a little bit louder? I have more recently, mostly when I think about the things that my friends and family have survived. They all have endured so much pain and aching, and now it is almost a reason to celebrate. In fact, I even wrote a tiny cheesy, flowery piece on this idea…

“Pour me another round

Rather, get a whole round for those of us at the table

We have survived the heartbreaks, the lonely holidays, and the standing on our own

Fill our glasses again, not because we are looking to numb our aches

Rather, because we are celebrating resilience

We fought hard for love, legs shaking but learning how to stand bravely.

We have gone to war to stay present, gaining an appreciation for however large that existence looks like

It is this aftermath, the one that I spoke of before

The moment after our voices are hoarse from screaming that we are going to survive the night

It is the dawn where we stare at the darkness and say ‘NOT TODAY!’

Tonight, we are toasting with fractured, full hearts

Pour us another round because we are simply alive”

I have been thinking a lot about resilience these days. Not only because I have felt in my own spirit, but I have observed it in the lives of those around me. Through all of the chaoticness and ache that I see, one thing has become quite apparent, the human spirit is incredibly resilient. It survives breakups, disappointments, job changes, fractured friendships, abandonment, violence, sexism, racism, pain, aches, broken resolve, tragedy, and helplessness, just to name a few things.

This strength looks like my friend “Bruce” who has chosen to fight against the darkness, not because it is easy but because he believes in a tomorrow that looks different. I can spot this bravery in a tiny human named Omran who was covered in dust and blood and found himself sitting alone in an ambulance, waiting for his parents, quietly and calmly while the world around him was erupting in chaos. I see family and friends that have been pushed aside by those in ministry or torn apart by the falsities or biting words that other share. Amazingly, these individuals still chose not to run from relationships and people, but rather embrace humanity in its fractured, messy state.

My friends, we are all living and breathing.

Yesterday, last week, last month, a year ago, was hard. Yet, we are still here. We stared down the darkness and fought to be here and be present.

When I look at my immediate circle of close friends and family, I see hearts that have fought against the darkness. These beautifully fractured humans have worked hard to not surrender to the pain of summer time, choosing to band together instead. Resilience looks like my friends who get tattoos instead of drawing another blade across their fragile skin. There is a commonality of pain and hurts, and there is a sheet of sheer determination that has been implemented in their eyes. This strength looks differently for each individual, and yet it is no less brilliant among these friends and family members.

My friends, pull up a chair. Thank you for being here. Let me take your coat; you can leave your shoes on or off. Let me pour you a glass, for tonight we are celebrating. We have made it through the darkness thus far, and dawn is on its way.