Winter is the season of natural scarcity. And it can feel that way – even in the comfort of our homes with a pandemic aside. I write this in the early morning stillness of the winter solstice, the longest night of the year. The night that – paradoxically – both identifies the onset of winter and contains the promise of imminent light.

We winter this year with extra weight on our shoulders. Covid has given us all stories to tell and turned life on its head. In our house, success is measured in brushed teeth, full bellies, and truces (if reluctant). The kids long to see their friends again, and the parents lament the experiences lost to time sequestered. Our mothers will spend Christmas alone. And my father-in-law remains quarantined in his nursing home room. Beyond our doors – yet close to home – real-life stories of grief and hardship abound. The isolation, the toil, and the toll on the spirit are real.

All this being said and acknowledged, my family of five has so much to be grateful for, even in the depths of a global pandemic. With grace, those closest to us have been spared the worst of the virus. I’m thankful that our basic needs continue to be met, I no longer take our fresh food for granted, and I appreciate access to clean air and space to walk and play. The tug of war between family dinner and outside commitments has ceased. And – most essential – the seats at our table are filled, our bodies and minds are healthy, and our hearts are full.

And that is plenty.

In a few short days, Christmas will be here (as will Santa). And even sooner, we’ll begin to see the expanding light of winter as the days grow longer, with each day giving more of itself than the one before it.

Here’s how I’m harnessing the sunrise today for a brighter 2021.

Radical acceptance is the practice of fully accepting life as it is, without judgment. It’s about acknowledging the real pain and challenges we are experiencing, accepting what we can’t control, and letting go of the fight against reality. When I loosen the knot of what is beyond my control, I’m free to look at situations in new and creative ways – exchanging struggle for opportunities to grow.

The loss, the trauma, and the grief of this time are real. For many, the wounds are everlasting. The Covid pandemic itself, though, is not permanent, nor is the stain of the current US administration. When circumstances appear bleak, I challenge myself to mine for opportunity. For me, this means an abundance of memory building with family and the possibility of creating new family habits and traditions. (Friday movie night, you’re here to stay.) My hope is that – through this unwanted yet extraordinary experience – we emerge more resilient and better able to cope with the natural peaks and valleys of life.

Hope is rooted in the belief that positive change is possible. When outside forces conspire to overwhelm, I remind myself of the real, tangible reasons to maintain hope. Multiple highly effective Covid vaccines have been developed in record time, and tens of thousands have received them in the past several days in the US alone. Moreover, we have an incoming administration that is poised to begin facing the monumental need to heal the deep and troubling wounds of our country’s history and those inflicted on our democracy. Change is happening.

Self-care looks different than it did one year ago. I’m no longer running for miles alone in the woods, and my posture is showing the effects of a dearth of yoga. But I have upped the silliness with my family, making laughter a part of each day. And this time has also given me an opportunity to affirm what matters most and focus on my meditation practice – something that is realistic and big on impact.

Our attention creates our reality, so how we direct it matters. Although it often feels like we’re bombarded by negative forces, we’re – to some degree – in charge of what comes in. When caught up in the torrent, we can press pause, take a breath, look before us, and acknowledge our successes. In our house, we regularly impose news blackouts or otherwise digest the news consciously and with limits. And rather than predicting the future (a futile exercise) or mourning the past, I try to ask: What’s true now? When I stay in the present (if only for an instant), I’m better able to see reality as it is, capturing fleeting moments that might otherwise be swept away in the current of time.

Wishing you all good health and – something else we could all use – unexpected moments of joy this season and beyond.