THE CURRENT - December 29th, 2020

Dear Friend,

Matt Guidry, a tall slender man with long silver hair, stands on a stage with an upright bass, singing to an image of his son, Caleb, projected large on the wall behind him.

Matt Guidry performing his solo show The Edge Between Fall 2019, singing and playing the upright bass while a photograph of Caleb watches over his serenade.

A tiny bead of light at the end of 2020

We made the heartbreaking decision last week to wait to see Caleb until he is vaccinated. And until we are too. Caleb, my step son and Matt's son lives in a group home and is cared for by a web of remarkable people who tenderly support him, see him, and in their own way love him. And so this is the best decision for him, and I hate it. All around us, we are watching families wrestle with similar decisions - negotiating a space for safety and a space for love, and having to live with the reality of imperfect solutions. Drifting through all of this uncertainty makes it difficult to find the resolve that I am used to feeling. The tiny bead of light that I can see on the horizon comes in and out of focus every time we have to make one of these decisions. And I know that in perspective one month - or more - is a doable amount of time to endure for the assurance that we are doing everything we can to keep Caleb healthy. And it still hurts.

And - AND - and I know, with every fiber of my being, that there is a little mighty nugget of goodness, and promise of better that is growing ever so slightly every day. If I pay attention, I can see its warmth all around me; in the class I teach, I watch a student swell with pride after he introduces himself to the group for the first time, I watch an educator share his truth with his students to add depth to the lessons we're teaching, and I am held up by my co-workers when I forget one of the small but oh-so essential details that makes our work, work. I can feel that tiny pinhole of light working with all of its might to seep in. It's hard to feel it some days, but I will not look away; because every single one of those beads becomes a part of the cumulative light I need to take the next step forward, upstream, one small moment at a time.

To all of you in our Upstream Arts community, I am sending you light and love as we reflect on 2020 and restore ourselves for 2021. Our work is guided by our name, and you help us get there.

Warm hands for all you do,

Julie Guidry, Executive Director

Soft purple background with rainbow stripes running into a UA spiral at the bottom. Pop quote:

Invest in true togetherness

We know that human connection is more creative than any barriers that stand in its way. That's why our work is about investing in each other one small moment at a time. As 2020 draws to a close, our funding gap of $64,418 means that we're well on our way to reaching our fiscal year goal of $100,000 by June 30th, 2021. Every dollar you invest helps us build resilience as we find new ways of connecting, now and into the future.

Invest in Upstream Arts today

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