“Life is brutal. But it’s also beautiful. Brutiful, I call it. Life’s brutal and beautiful are woven together so tightly that they can’t be separated. Reject the brutal, reject the beauty.” —Glennon Doyle Melton

The month of December—with all of the hope of the holidays and cheer of twinkly lights—did not prove to be immune to the brutal side of life. Daily, I read messages from friends and acquaintances who had to say goodbye to beloved pets. Dogs, bunnies, horses . . . furry family members woven into the fabric of their humans’ lives. Leaving their masters’ hearts tilted on their axis, and big empty holes in life spaces.

There were forced goodbyes to beloved people, too. During the week of Christmas, one of my son’s football coaches suddenly passed away from a heart attack. A loving father to two teenage girls and a devoted husband, Joe Swope was strong and healthy, a light and inspiration to so many from the North Central High School community. I stared at his family photo and would not—could not—let the reality penetrate my understanding. It was all too much.

The next day, my friend Katie’s 19-month old beautifully spirited daughter, Cami, fell ill. She put out a prayer request after Cami was hospitalized with what was later determined to be a bacterial infection that had swiftly taken over her little body. I had no doubt she would pull through because, although I had never met her in person, it was an unconscionable thought for such a bright light to be lost. The Friday before Christmas Eve, I read a Facebook message from Cami’s “granddaisey” that they were preparing to say goodbye to her. I couldn’t lift myself out of bed. I was one of hundreds of people praying for a Christmas miracle for Cami, but she became a Christmas angel instead. My 12-year-old wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so sorry, mama,” she said. It had been a while since she showered me with such tenderness. I don’t often cry, but I couldn’t stop the heaving tears coming out with what felt like a lifetime of devastating sadness.

The kids and I had a full schedule planned that day, but I didn’t want to get out from under the covers. I texted a friend to say I couldn’t—didn’t want to—move out of bed. She said bad things happen all around us, but we can’t let them take us out.

I think of all of them—the big strong dad and coach, the furry family members, the uber precious baby girl—with big sets of beautiful wings frolicking in a heavenly place. There is peace to envision them enveloped in the arms of those who had gone before.

Glennon Doyle Melton has openly shared her tumultuous journey through addiction and suicidal thoughts via her blog, Momestary and two New York Times bestselling books. She speaks of experiencing her lowest moment, on the bathroom floor with a positive pregnancy test in hand. “Every morning, I open my eyes and immediately understand that I am still that girl on the bathroom floor, holding that pregnancy test like a terrifying invitation, trying to decide whether to stay down on the cold floor or get up and show up for my life.”

My wish for 2017 is that we fully engage in the complex nature of life. That we capture and behold a deeper sense of connectivity to our friends and family, and to all of humanity. That we keep getting up off that cold bathroom floor—and out from under protective covers—after life flattens us out, and that we face each day with kindness toward ourselves and others. That we remember, with every interaction we hold the power to influence things for the better. And, as hard as it is, understand that we can’t fully see the beautiful side of life without fully leaning into the brutality of it.

To be fully human is to recognize, even in the depths of life’s most significant losses, that love abides. And we must remember to show that love, by reaching out to those we care about, especially to those who are most in need. Here’s to the end of a difficult year, and to a year of new opportunities to show up for our lives, and to show up with our love intact and in action.

We are Spokane Coeur d’Alene Living, and we are Spokane. Please find me on Facebook—and hop over to “like” the Spokane Coeur d’Alene Living page—to stay connected between press dates, and share your thoughts, stories, and life in real time.

With love for all,

Stephanie Regalado

stephanie@spokanecda.com