A year with many names
I have failed to write lately partially due to the fact that either I have not much to say or just have forgotten how to write or the thought of it makes me weary. Most likely, it’s a generous mixture of the entirety of it all. I’ve been slowly acquainting myself to the feeling of silence - online at least - strange how much goes forgotten and overlooked but how also much is kept so close and dear to the heart.
Over the span of these last three-hundred and sixty-five days, I’ve seen and learned and understood a great deal more about what it means to be human, to care deeply and carry sadness...how to feel again, and the tangible and visible pieces of grace...the learning and understanding, manifesting itself in ways I hadn’t considered (or profoundly, at least) before. I am not who I was a year ago - Christ made Himself evermore nearer.
My Mondays looked a lot like my Wednesdays, which looked a lot like my Fridays. Roaming the campus at half past nine at night during the first half of the year and stumbling in before dawn in the second. My Tuesdays looked a lot like my Thursdays, where in the morning I’d find myself in a place I realized I was no longer happy, unwanted and used in a way, the exception being Bible study that used to take place during the evening. My Saturdays were often draining while my Sundays often had a sense of rest and the one opportunity to sleep in past eight.
2015, a year of hard, deep growing pains, the kind that aches and sticks around, the kind that forever alters your becoming; 2015, the year that helped define who I am and where I’m hoping to go, the year of taking on far too much (which shouldn’t be surprising to me anymore, but always always is), the year of being brought to my knees, the year of singing truths to myself through tears, the year of almost throwing in the towel, the year of doing things I had only hoped and prayed about, the year of learning to stick up for myself and my dreams, the year of questions, the year of learning what it means to be faithful in little, the year of realizing that I shouldn’t feel obligated to validate or explain my heart or why I do what I do to small-minded individuals, the year of unexpected opportunity and blessings with my photography, the year where I finally shot film, the year of being an intern and meeting some of my dearest friends, the year of vulnerability and learning to be brave, the year of learning how to trust, the year of my ‘yes’ being just ‘yes’ and my ‘no’ being just ‘no’, the year of learning how to rest, the year of coming out alive - breathing again, the year of realizing and resting in the knowledge that the best position to serve has always been from the position that He sees fit.
It's been a year of understanding, though everso slowly yet tenderly, how I was being molded more and more into who I am meant to be. It's been a year of realizing that though I am a great sinner, Christ is a great Savior and He has filled my cup, holding my lot, lavishing grace upon grace. I'm overwhelmed at the thought of how very very kind and good and loving He has been in all of His dealings with me, withholding no good thing and teaching my heart to say “I need Him most”. The conclusion of this year is bittersweet; but there's a restful confidence in awaiting all that is to come. I pray that I am faithful with what shall be given to me and that I would find myself even more so overwhelmed with gratitude, my song being one of surrender, one of confidence saying, "Not as I will, but as You will".