We spend most of our time looking to celebrate the beauty in the mundane, finding deep meaning in the small gestures and subtle rhythms of this precious world and life, and generally trying to keep on the sunny side.
While it's not always sunshine and roses, we try and make it so it's at least beeswax and Rubies over here. But, dear ones, this year was...hard. Like pretty much everyone we know, this was a year we lost. We lost loved ones, we lost dear friends, we lost relationships, we lost seasons of time, we lost business, we lost health, we lost security, we lost healthcare, we lost childcare, we lost self-care, we lost opportunities, we lost sleep, we lost connections, we lost friendships, we had not one but TWO dogs in the Foundry family diagnosed with cancer (they're fine, and read more about Ruby's journey/recovery here...but seriously?? what IS that!?)...We lost and we lost. Some lost less, and many, many lost more. Who lost what doesn't matter at all, though. We all lost and we all mourn those losses and will do so for a good long while in ways we don't think we've even begun yet to understand.
Loss and grief is not calm or beautiful or fun or zany or graceful or delightful or so many of the things that we love here. But it is useful and it is necessary, which are also central to the heart of everything we hold dear. We mention all of this here because it would be terribly inauthentic not to. It doesn't feel right to dive right in to a sparkly year-in-review of the miracles and triumphs and *silver linings* (a concept that we simultaneously detest and require for survival) without saying grace to that which we have all lost, and offer a benediction for all that has yet to be lost.
But, of course, there are blessings and miracles and triumphs to be found on the existential scale. To everything there are seasons and this year has also been a season of monumental generosity, of leaps of faith and justice, of making do and making beauty, of creativity and compassion, of unity and support, of a community electrified and of voices raised together in praise and lamentation, in kindness and with love. We're just so grateful to even still BE here. Working. Alive. Present.
As we take our annual week of rest and quiet in January, we can't help but reflect on the fundamental good. In spite of everything. Because of everything. Thank you for being here with us and helping us make it through. We are full of bone-deep gratitude and hope—not that things will return to normal but that things will return to better.