Tiny Holidays Week 3

If you think you’ve seen it all
Stick around…
There’s a lot we’ve lost
But so much more we’ve found

If you think you got it all
You got it wrong…
There’s more in store
The best is yet to come

Let us boldly go
Where only those with open hearts can go
Where words aren’t spoken
And time is golden
And love’s blindfolding us with hope

And we stay honest and keep our promises
Keep evolving
Keeping on this
All we have to do is hold on
And love will do the rest
All we have to do is hold on
And take another breath

If you think you heard it all
I’ll say it again…
My love for you will never ever end

If you think you’ve seen it all
Stick around
We’re just getting started…

–“If You Think You’ve Seen It All,” Jason Mraz
 
A few years ago, my Dad came home from the Post Office with a book of stamps and he said, very matter-of-factly, “I’ll be dead before I can use all of these.” Whenever he made comments like, “Never get old, Lee,” I’d reply, “It’s better than the alternative,” which was a knee-jerk way of covering my discomfort with a process I couldn’t really appreciate—aging and its attendant bittersweetness.

Now that he’s gone, the time ahead of me feels finite in a way that it hadn’t until now. It’s not a broad vista anymore; it’s more like a path in a forest whose limits I can sense in the distance. There have even been times, mostly at 4:00 in the morning, when I’ve thought that maybe I’ve done everything I’m going to do—I had a relatively long marriage, gave birth to and raised three beautiful children, had an almost 30-year career, and walked through sacred days with my Dad at the end of his life. Maybe there’s no “best” yet to come because I’ve gotten my share of good things.

And then there’s the inevitability of physical limitations whether in the form of aging or illness. I mean, something is going to happen; the body always wins.

I’ve been listening to this song by Jason Mraz, “If You Think You’ve Seen It All,” which I first heard during a break in my first weekend of seminary classes. It’s a lovely mindset to have at the beginning of a journey like the seminary program, and I imagine the voice singing, “If you think you heard it all, I’ll say it again…My love for you will never ever end,” as that of Divine Spirit calling us forward on a journey that already feels transformative.

But when I hear the line, “the best is yet to come,” I think, “Is it?”

If we buy into the idea of “the best” of anything, the opposite must also be true: “the worst” is also yet to come. More loss, more decline, more heartbreak…these are all inevitable.

In the end, though, the idea of a “best” or “worst” anything seems unhelpful. It’s too linear and draws attention away from the often mediocre but very palpable present. Like a chambered nautilus or a labyrinth, we move in repeating spirals, returning to experiences but in new and expanded ways that hopefully help us learn more with each go around.

In “Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life,” Richard Rohr expresses a very Tiny Holidays-coded sentiment: “Your concern is not so much to have what you love anymore, but to love what you have—right now. This is a monumental change from the first half of life, so much so that it is almost a litmus test of whether you are in the second half at all.” 

Instead of seeing the richness of our lives as fading or dwindling, the finiteness of the present can be felt as more colorful, more immediate, and full of impact. Love it then let it go.

In the last scene of “Somebody, Somewhere,” the show Rolling Stone just called the best show of 2024, Bridget Everett (an incredible actor, writer, and cabaret performer) sings “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus in a dumpy Midwest town bar, in front of the family and friends she has grown into love with over the three seasons of the show. She’s such an open, powerful singer and the scene is so heartwarming as are so many others throughout the three seasons (seriously, you should watch this show).

Nothing “big” or “best” happens in this show; it’s the tiny forward movement of the characters and their hearts that draws you in. “The Climb” is the perfect song for this moment because there’s nothing super special about it–it’s a nice twangy pop ballad which, in Bridget’s hands becomes goofy and heartfelt. It’s a tiny celebration of the fact that while there is no best or worst, there is always more to come. And it’s a good idea to keep a steady, hopeful pace as we walk into it.

There’s always gonna be another mountain
I’m always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I’m gonna have to lose
Ain’t about how fast I get there
Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side
It’s the climb

Keep on moving, keep climbing
Keep the faith, baby
It’s all about, it’s all about the climb
Keep your faith, keep your faith