It has been 51 weeks since my last post. Yes, 51 weeks since I have written anything other than Bible study lessons and seminary papers. So, hello again.
What better way to re-enter the world of Bedrocks and Borderlands than to reflect on 2016 and the last thing I posted. I had chosen a word and a verse for my year and I had no idea how they would take shape.
At the end of 2015, I acknowledged the natural tendency to shake off the past year and storm headfirst into a new one, with a fresh start.
Out of my way, you no good history! I’ve got a new year to dominate!
More than most, 2016, seems a good year to cast out of mind. With so much death, of icons of Hollywood fame and those who would become icons of hashtag fame, who wouldn’t want to forget about this year? With disheartening campaigns, nation-consuming wars, and the civil issues of past centuries revealing themselves to be just as alive as ever, even the cheeriest of optimists must be ready to escape the suffocating grip of 2016. But, as it is with every year, there was hope mixed in with the pain. So, let’s not rush to slam the door shut on the last 365 days. Let’s sit here, with the extra second that earth’s rotation has provided for us, and reflect. Let’s do the dirty and worthwhile work of excavating and unearth the treasures of this last year.
Before the clock strikes midnight, take time to marvel at the days that have passed.
The verse I chose for 2016 was Esther 4:14. “For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”
My word was “sacred”.
And y’all, I had no idea.
As I mentioned, and perhaps you noticed, this blog went silent for the last year. I wanted to write. But I could not. I thought it was because my writing energy was being funneled toward grad school. That may be the cause in part. However, it was about October when I began to realize that I could not write because I write about my life, the lessons I’m learning, the joys and pains I’m experiencing. This year was full of fodder. But I had asked, through choosing “sacred”that The Lord help me honor those around me. And so, through a most painful year, The Lord took my words. I would not have been able to write about 2016 with kindness, not while it was happening. On January 6th, I wrote:
“I want to simplify, to listen, to honor. I want to create and explore and rest. It is the sacredness of creation that ties all of this together. To listen to others, to not hold their sins against them, is to treat them and the relationship as sacred. To honor who I am created to be, to not compromise myself, to fight for the life that is in me is to honor the sacredness of God’s design. To create sacred space in my home and enjoy the sacred space of God’s creation, these are not the extras of a godly life. They matter. In 2016, I want to learn to see all of life as it is, set in place for the glory of God.”
Reading that paragraph, that prayer, fills me with a somber gratitude. I wouldn’t have chosen to learn of sacredness in the way that I did. I did learn to honor who I am created to be, and it cost me. In the pain of those days, I wanted to write to tell my story, but more than that I wanted to honor the others involved and I feel I have even if imperfectly. Sacred space was created for me as I’ve navigated the last few months and I was given the sweetest gift of enjoying the sacred space of creation in the best way, Autumn in the mountains of Northern California. The Lord took my words so that I could learn to do as Mary did, “treasure all these things” and “ponder them in my heart” (Luke 2:19).
And the verse, well that one is slightly more obvious, isn’t it? The immediate connection is the change that occurred in my employment. I didn’t know my ministry in Kingwood would come to an end when it did. But I still believe that my time there was intentional and purposeful both on my part and The Lord’s. This verse goes beyond my time in Kingwood though. My time in California was purposeful as well, though short-lived. And of course, it was a tumultuous year in our nation and world. I believe that I am here, alive and in the U.S. for such a time as this, to speak truth and hope with conviction and kindness in the midst of polarizing days.
So, yes, I am ready for a different year, a year full of new opportunities and, dear Lord, more joy please. But, I am thankful for a year that taught me of the sacredness of all days, the ones marked by hot tears streaming down my cheek as well as the ones marked by a crisp mountain breeze rushing over my river-soaked toes.
Here’s to you, 2016. May the lessons you taught take root as we stumble, exhausted yet hopeful into 2017.