In 2019, I was on 90 airplanes and in seven countries. And my friends will tell you that at the time, I talked a lot about how tired I was and how much I missed home and how annoying it is to give the same talk over and over.

In 2020, I was in my apartment. And about six months into this pandemic, I tweeted, sorry for how much complaining I did about my travel schedule last year, but I was busy taking my entire life for granted.

In the newly unhurried and unclettered spaces of my life, I found myself wistfully longing for things I had no idea I was taking for granted at the time.

I miss the buzz of humanity that wafes off a live audience as they find their seats.

I miss speaking to large groups of actual human beings and not just squares on the screen of my MacBook. I miss hugging my parents and who I am when I'm with my friends and movie theater popcorn.

Perhaps we are not yet in a place where we can talk about the gifts that have come from this grotesque pandemic because how do we name as gift that which comes to us out of molded ash and tears?

All I can do is love the unhurried and unclettered space I have now as I may wistfully long for it when I am again on airplanes every week.

That's all we've got. We can't go back and fix who we were. We cannot import the wisdom we've earned in middle age back to our young adult selves.

We can only try and honor now what we wish we had appreciated then. We can only savor now what we will miss when it is gone.

We can only practice being the person today we regret not being in the past.

My name is Nadia Bolzweather and you've stepped into the confessional. It's like a car wash for our shame and secrets.

My guest today tells her own story of how who she is now was molded out of ash and tears. Stay with us.

Hey confessional listeners, I just want to thank you for supporting this podcast.

I wanted you to know that there's a place called the corners where I regularly engage with readers, post essays and prayers and bonus content from this podcast.

It's called the corners because it can feel as though some of us have been relegated to the edge of every space we are in.

But here's the thing, I love the corner. I always have. It's where I always choose to sit because from there you can see the whole room and because I love the other people who hang out there.

I love outcasts and queers and the girls who talk too loud because I love the kind of humor that comes out of lives that have not been easy because I love sober drunks and single dads and sex workers and the guy who lost a leg in the war.

Because these are my people and you can join us and engage with me and my work at Nadia Boltsweber.substac.com.

Join other folks who share my love of grace, snark, confession, mercy, pop culture, and of course, God. We'll see you there.

Joining me today is Claire Bidwell-Smith. She is an author and a grief therapist and I'm really excited to have this conversation with her. I've been looking forward to it. So welcome, Claire.

Thank you.

What brings you into the confessional today? Tell me what was going on in your life at the time.

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