Lately I’ve felt the need to write. Sometimes the words sit on my heart while I fall asleep urging me to get up and empty them onto a page of some sort. I try to fight that urge. Writing makes me feel things and sometimes I just don’t want to rehash those feelings.
2016 has been a full year. I moved into my Rose Cottage. I travelled to St. Louis and New York and Israel and Paris and London and then Paris again. I learned how to apply dry wall. I learned how to travel by myself. I’ve learned how to knit. Ok. My bad. I’m learning how to knit. I got a tattoo. I’ve learned that winter sucks solely for the reason of having to shovel the snow in my driveway. I mastered the dodgeball court at SkyZone. I found a new drink I love at Starbucks. Did I mention that I got a tattoo, like for real?!!
There have been some absolutely wonderful things about 2016.
But I have to tell you. I’m glad it’s over.
I’m glad because I need a fresh start. One that a number seems to bring with it.
Because what my Facebook page and my Instagram and twitter account don’t tell you is that this has been a hard year. There’s been a lot of tears and anxiety and disappointment. There’s been a lot of brokenness. There’s been a lot of “God, I don’t understand”, and “God, why them and not me”, and “God, do you know how much my heart is breaking right now?”, and “God, when will it be my turn?”.
And the truth is that I have no answers. Sometimes I feel like I’m barely holding on by a thread.
And so I need a new year. I need to lay this past year down and say it’s over. I need this year to be about different stuff. I need to be brave enough to reach for hope and hold onto it for dear life. I need the hope that says “I will find my way again”. I need the hope that says “I will let go of being jaded, of being jealous, of feeling like something has been withheld from me.” Next year I want to write that this year I learned to feel loved, to feel whole, to let go of the ugly feelings I cling so tightly to and the lies that I’ve embraced as truth. I want to write that I grew closer to Jesus. I want to write that 2017 was beautiful and full and good.
I’m a big believer that as human beings we go through seasons. Some seasons are so full of joy and happiness that it almost doesn’t seem real. And some seasons are dull and boring and we can’t remember what it feels like to be excited. And then other seasons are full of grief and sadness and the sun never seems to shine. And when you’re in that season, it doesn’t feel like it will ever be over until one day the clouds seem to clear and a ray of light peaks through.
I feel most human when people own up to their story. And so I’m owning up to mine because there is freedom and beauty when we share our joyful moments and our loneliest moments with one another. There is a release of shame when we hear those words “me too”. Because I feel like maybe one person is reading this and their heart is breaking because their story doesn’t seem to make sense right now and it’s not going how they planned it and they’re sick and tired of seeing everyone else’s happy. You are not alone. And this is not the end of your story, this is a season. And I need to tell you, just like I need you to tell me, that it’s going to be ok, you’re going to be ok and this season will end and the sun will break through. You are not your shame or your disappointment.
And I want to invite you to reach out with me and grab hope, even if it’s just a sliver right now, stretch for it. Let God use this season to make you deeper, to make you more human, more empathetic, more aware of the people around you who need to hear those words “me too”. Through tears, I speak those words to you now, “me too”.
The sun is going to shine.
Wait for it.
I’m waiting too,