Joy, Even Now

Holding joy in a time of despair, even now…especially now.

There’s always been a strange dissonance to being alive in this country.
But something about the holidays turns the volume up.

Soft twinkle lights. Stiff political conversations. Gravy and grief.
Empty chairs at the table. Laughter at the kids’ table.
A December full of sparkle and sorrow.

And in the backdrop of it all - another headline. Another mass shooting. Another loss.

We are entering a season that demands joy… while many of us are barely hanging on.
The world is burning and we’re supposed to make pie crust from scratch?

The holidays bring their own kind of duality.
For some, this time is a glitter-drenched grief bomb. For others, it’s genuinely beautiful—but even then, it can feel surreal to celebrate while the systems we live under unravel.

We go to parties while civil rights are dismantled.
We light candles while borders close and bombs fall.
We buy gifts between news alerts.
We carry joy and devastation in the same damn breath.

That’s what this post—and this series—is about.

Because I’m noticing it in my own life too.
Last week, I stood under a warm light, laughing with people I love. There was music, there was connection. I felt present and full. And yet I knew, just outside this circle of light, the world is very much on fire.

And that didn’t make the joy any less real.
If anything, it made it feel sacred.

Joy is not an escape. Joy is a refusal.

It’s a refusal to let cruelty take everything.
A refusal to become numb, to grow bitter, to give up on beauty or softness.

I want to say this clearly:
You are not broken for feeling joy while the world suffers.
You are not broken for laughing while holding grief.
You are not broken for celebrating while still carrying sorrow.
You are simply… human.

This is the beginning of a series I’m calling Holding Both.
Each entry will explore a tension, a duality: hope and despair, grief and celebration, rest and resistance.

I don’t have answers. But I believe in the power of naming what’s real.

So if you’re feeling more than one thing this season - you are not alone.
If you’re crying and laughing within the same hour - you are not alone.
If you feel joy and guilt and hope and numbness - you are not alone.

We’re not here to fix the mess. We’re here to feel it, hold it, and keep choosing life anyway.

Even now. Especially now.