The Delicious Taste of Buttermilk Biscuits.

The Delicious Taste of Buttermilk Biscuits!

John Paul Derryberry

My upper body is a little sore from lifting my nephew again and again last night. We used my wife's winter break and my vacation time to quarantine long enough to come to meet our new niece. It's a luxury our chosen careers afford us, the chance to visit family in a quaint little Iowa town during a pandemic without endangering anyone. With a negative test for COVID in tow, we set out for the first family gathering in a long time. It was well overdue.

It's nap time, and the little ones are in some stage of resting. I sit in a lovely room in my brother-in-law's house overlooking their winter wonderland of a backyard. I would love to say I have the overwhelming feeling of hope that a new year brings. I feel lucky, love, and grateful to meet our family's latest addition and to wrestle with my two-year-old nephew. I feel whole watching my two daughters warm up to their aunt and uncle so quickly despite such limited time during the pandemic together.

But hope that better days lie ahead eludes me at this moment, not because life isn't great. It is! And, it's not because there haven't been great life moments during this time, because I'm in the middle of one. It's because Monday, we all return to a world still altered from the pandemic, the political climate, and humans' unwavering ability both to be despicable and uplifting at the same time. We let our daughters linger with their aunt and uncle later than their usual bedtime because who knows when it will be safe enough to do this again. And that fact alone is why hope escapes me today.,

That doesn't mean I'm jaded, sad, or angry about the current state of affairs. I'm just honest and rational; the best thing I can think of being during a pandemic, which instills fear in us all by its nature. The fear we might get sick and die, fear we are losing our freedoms, fear we might infect someone we love, and they die, and fear we won't ever return to the way things were. I have learned over the years, in uncertain times, hope wains, but truth lights the way. So I'll lean on the facts. I'll do my best to be honest with myself, my loved ones, and the people I encounter. Truth will guide my actions during this time, just like it always has.

And that's the beauty of these past two days. I took a vacation to ensure people I love could safely see each other. Many families couldn't pull this off for numerous reasons, including the death of a loved one. I count myself lucky to be so acutely effective by a life-shifting event compared to others. If you are reading this and are one of the millions of lives significantly affected by all this, know I have thought of you this weekend a lot. I thought about how I can still celebrate all the good in my life while finding ways to lessen others' burdens, something I wish we all would do more.

So as I leave my little bubble and enter back out into the world. I'm not bounding with hope for 2021, and that is a good thing. I'm honest about the situation in which we all find ourselves. I find myself determined to create beautiful moments for my wife, my kids, my family, my friends, and you, my readers, because that's where hope grows--in moments we didn't see coming because our just and honest actions led to something beautiful. Like when my oldest daughter (2 1/2)  saddled up to her aunt, threw on an apron, and made buttermilk biscuits for the first time. There is no tarnishing that moment. It was pure; it was beautiful; it was so much better than hope. It was life at its best. It was love, gratitude, sacrifice, patience, communication, compassion, and resilience all rolled into a fluffy, tasty treat for our family.