I'm not sure where the time goes, but a little over a year ago we moved from our first home, off to adventure life in a new city. Our move sputtered and stalled, four weeks turned into four months and crescendo-ed with a broken ankle - mine.
I was looking at 30 just weeks prior, determined for newness, a list of resolves folded and tucked away in my heart...
- Listen for God.
- Less fear; more love.
- Try; it's okay to fail.
- Mess is good.
- Give grace.
- Use my words to empower.
- Administer true justice; show mercy and compassion...(Zech. 7.9).
- Treat all equally. Be intimidated by and look down on no one. We are all just people, after all.*
I never would have chosen this year of detoured plans and clipped wings. But looking back, it was these very circumstances that watered my little list and made it shoot down roots to my soul.
If we let them, if we give them space and time, hearts and bones mend. They come back stronger, more resilient, more sure. And it is amazing to me how the good and bad of life can mold and shape...and then release us. And while these seasons leave their mark, they no longer hold us.
This year, as I turned 31, I wanted guests for dinner. Because when I wasn't sure how to keep up hope and see good, these precious people linked arms and deflected the darkness that tried to red rover my soul. I loved them before, but now they are forever branded on my heart.
In a society that screams independence, that promotes and applauds the self-made and DIYers, I am thankful for a circle of friends, a small band of hope-ers who loved, full and fierce, refusing to let gloom break through.
Raise a glass to friendship
And to knowing you don't have to go alone
We'll raise our hearts to share each other's burdens
On this road.
Every burden I have carried,
Every joy - it's understood.
Life with you is half as hard
And twice as good.
Don't go alone. Be seen, known. Raise a glass...here's to going together.