2024: The Year of Strange Joy

"Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed." 1 Peter 4:12-13

2024. You were a hit from my blindside that literally left me with a blow to the head. I feel like I've lived a lifetime in a single year. It’s been a year of shock, upheaval, and chaos at times. It’s been a year of figuring out how to live in a body that has often not felt like my own and a brain that has aged seemingly overnight. It’s been a year of moments filled with trying to fathom life beyond the next hour, let alone December 30. It’s been a year filled with moments of crying my eyes out because that’s all I felt like I had the capacity to do. It’s been a year of moments spent walking laps around my parents’ yard, practically wearing out what looks like a game trail, aiming to strengthen muscles that had forgotten how to function. It’s been a year of staring at one MRI after another, some showing large white masses and some now showing large gaping black holes. 

But it’s also been a year of financial abundance when it should have been a year of financial scarcity (turns out living with your parents can do wonders for your budget).  It's been a year of supernatural peace on the inside despite the swirling maelstrom on the outside. It's been a year of hearing God's voice more clearly despite the deafening noise of beeping monitors and the chatter of so many medical providers. 

It's been a year of strong weakness.

It's been a year of fractured hope.

It's been a year of strange joy.

Author Hannah Anderson wrote in her book Heaven and Nature Sing: 25 Advent Reflections to Bring Joy to the World, referencing the 1 Peter verses above and the stories of Mary and Simeon found in Luke 2:

This is a strange kind of joy - one that cannot be explained by sentimentality or celebration. It's the joy of an old man like Simeon, exhausted and broken by the suffering of the world, holding hope in his arms. It is the joy of a mother like Mary knowing that her child will change everything, but that she will lose him in the process. It is the joy of us who have followed this Promised Son in the way of suffering and found him faithful. It is . . . the joy of sharp pain and glorious beauty persevering together (pg. 111).

I have followed this Promised Son this year as best I know how.

And I have found that Promised Son faithful. Unimaginably so.

This cannot be explained by sentimentality or celebration. 

This can only be explained by a God who is wildly gracious, loving, and kind. But he's also a sovereign God who, in wisdom, allows trials to come our way. Trials that soften the edges of our souls. Trials that show us he is God over all we know. Trials that humble us and remind us we cannot live by bread alone, but on every word that comes from his mouth. Trials that teach us there's a story greater than ourselves being told, stories that are largely about him and not about us. Trials that refine us, leaving us more tender, more compassionate toward the world around us (most of the time anyway. There's still some goofballs out there for whom I have little compassion).

This is the joy of sharp pain and glorious beauty persevering together. 

This is the year I've witnessed strange joy up close and personal.

It turns out strange joy looks a lot like the face of Jesus.

"I've Witnessed It" by Passion, featuring Melodie Malone

When I was lost and all alone
Your presence was where I found home
You were there and You’re here right now

In every high and every low
You never left me without hope
You were good and You’re good right now

[Chorus]
I’ve witnessed Your faithfulness
I’ve seen You breathe life within
So I’ll pour out my praise again
You’re worthy, God you’re worthy of all of it
Your promises never fail
I’ve got stories I’ll live to tell
So I’ll pour out my praise again
You’re worthy, God you’re worthy of all of it

2017: Year in Review

Whew, boy, 2017. I thought you were nearly going to do me in, especially there at the end. I spent these last several months thinking I should just go ahead and make myself comfortable on the floor because, quite frankly, I was getting tired of getting back up only to get knocked down again. I figured it might as well just be easier to go ahead and lie on the floor, and tell Jesus to come find me again when the coast is clear. And I know I’m not the only one. Many of my family members and people I love dearly in my circle of influence have faced profound hurts and challenges this year. I've got friends who have been deeply, deeply wounded by things like the weight of a broken engagement, the death of friends or the announcement of cancer at forty-something-years old. This past year just seemed to be the year that was on a mission to outright destroy some people I love. Heck, I thought it was on a mission to destroy me. Our nation and globe have been turned upside down, for better or for worse, on more than one occasion, between mass shootings, new political leaders, and social movements like #MeToo. I can’t say that I’m all that sad to wave farewell to 2017. Not that it was all bad – there were certainly highlights – but it just seemed to be a season of difficulty and grief for a number of people close to me.

But for the first time in a long time, the prospect of a new year personally feels just like that – a new year. I’ve always been rather indifferent toward New Year’s festivities. It just seemed like another day, another year (and I can rarely stay awake until midnight anyway). But this year feels different, like I really am being given a blank slate and a fresh start.

Every year for the last several years, I've taken stock of the year by going back through my journals, re-reading entries, clicking through old blog posts, reflecting on all that has happened. Anais Nin said, “We write to taste life twice.” It’s worth tasting life twice. It’s worth looking back and seeing God’s faithfulness. We don’t write down stories and document the annals of history so we can forget; we do it so we can remember. What good is a nation, a kingdom, a people if they don’t remember anything? What good are God’s people if they don’t recall and bring to mind the evidences of his kindness and provisions? What good are his people if they don’t build an altar to God, raise their Ebenezers and declare, “Thus far the Lord has helped me” (1 Samuel 7:12)?

So, in keeping up with the habit, I present to you my 2017 year-in-review:

January - You ever have those prayers you want to take back? I seem to have a knack for doing that here these last several years. I started off January 2017 by jotting down in my journal, “Rid me of these fears that consume and control me, that hold me hostage and captivate me. I want your thoughts to be precious to me, for your will to become my will, your thoughts to become my thoughts. Help me to live in alignment with your Word.” Yeah, you know what, Jesus? On second thought, let me rephrase that prayer. Or better yet, let’s just forget I made that request at all. By September of this year, I was ready to cry “uncle” on this prayer.

February - Y’all. Jill Briscoe at IF: Gathering. Good Lord Almighty. Just promise me you’ll watch her segment, okay? It’s worth every single minute. I sat leaning on the edge of my chair through her entire message. I also attended Beth Moore’s Lit conference, which was aimed specifically at women in their 20s and 30s who feel called to teach, speak or write. I have poured over the notes from that event several times since then. Profound. I didn't want to leave the hotel ballroom on the final night, I just wanted to linger in those closing moments of worship for hours. The song “Spirit of the Living God” by Vertical Church Band became my prayer, “Because when Jesus comes into the room, everything changes. He changes what we see and what we seek. I want him to change what I see and what I seek.”

March - I wrote in my journal, “I’m so grateful for how you watch out for me in ways I’m not even aware.” I have thought that at least a dozen times over this year, in awe of how God orchestrates and cares for my life, long before I even know there’s a need.

April - I helped coordinate a surprise birthday party for my mom. That event was followed by the words, “I have no intention of ever planning a surprise party again in my life.” It went great, but good heavens, was there a lot of angst leading up to it. I also took a week-long road trip out to Missouri to visit my alma mater and visit some friends I had not seen in nearly a decade. I celebrated 10 years since I finished undergrad by loading up on chocolate peanut butter Big Trains, Beks spinach artichoke dip, and good conversations with good company. I also got a text message from my brother saying his wife was pregnant, after they had been told by 3 different medical specialists that they would likely never have children again. Specialists smecialists. What do you know.

May - Days after I got back from Missouri, my dear friend Myrt was rushed to the hospital, which would be the start of a sudden and rapid decline. We celebrated her 84th birthday in the nursing home by buying her a crown and a scepter, as my friends, Jill and Alex, and I had dubbed her the Queen. She had dubbed us her "Princesses."  They were bittersweet days spent with a very dear person to me.

June - I started a journal entry this month simply with the words, “God works miracles.” I had one particular co-worker that, for a season, I was at perpetual odds with. We might as well have been mortal enemies. We each inflicted wounds on the other in ways I wasn't ever sure we would ever recover from. But my God – my God is a God of mercy and grace, redemption and healing. I got an unexpected phone call from this co-worker late one night, just wanting to chat with me because she was unraveling in a lot of ways and knew she could trust me. We had come a long way in our relationship since the days of hurt, and that phone call truly was a miracle. On a totally separate note, I also got my first article published with Gospel-Centered Discipleship. 

July - Myrt had been rushed to the hospital on May 5, and she wouldn't live to see July 5. Those were hard days, watching her die, watching her in agony and pain. I so often prayed death would come swiftly for her, but then “I began praying that Jesus would come swiftly, not death. And maybe those are two sides of the same coin, but I want Jesus to come. I know he has conquered death, so death doesn't get the final say. Maybe in these fleeting earthly moments it seems death wins, but he loses for all eternity.”

August - I bought a new car. After which, I penned the words, “I should never be allowed to make another major life decision.” I seem to get a little scattered when I make significant purchases. I’m in serious trouble if I ever buy a house.

September - I mentally came off the rails. What I affectionately refer to as “The Week From Hell” occurred this month. I experienced a round of panic attacks for the first time in my life, and they sent me spiraling. I suddenly became incapable of functioning like I used to, and my life came to a crashing halt for a period of a couple weeks. The anxiety truly was debilitating and life-altering.  I selfishly pray I never go through another episode like that again.

October - I typed out nine pages of a single-spaced journal entry, words that just came tumbling out in light of the anxiety and all that was happening in its wake. I was temporarily staying with my parents in the weeks immediate after my panic attacks, but early October would prove to be the last time I would spent the night in my own apartment. I spent one night there after everything started, and it nearly did me in, being there alone. My birthday was that month and it ended up being less than stellar and consisted of a lot of tears and a meltdown for good measure. Hi, welcome to 33, Courtney. Oh, and an essay I wrote got published in a new book.  So maybe that made up some for the crappy birthday meltdown.

November - I keep getting sucker-punched by life. Just when I feel like I was gaining some semblance of normalcy, I find myself standing on the side of the road, giving a statement to a police officer after a woman hit me head-on and did a number on my brand new car. I spent a chunk of time in the ER, missed a week of work, and wondered what on earth the good Lord was trying to tell me in this season of life. I also gave notice to my landlord that I would be terminating my lease 8 months early.

December - I packed up my life into boxes and moved back home, which in some ways felt like admitting defeat, but in a lot of ways felt like relief. I get reluctant to divulge I’m living with my parents again, but most of the time, I’m just grateful I even have that option. I am beyond blessed to have a family that has supported me without question these last several months. I knew at the end of the day that I needed time to heal and recover from this season of life, and that wasn't going to happen if I stayed at my apartment. It was time to say goodbye to my little space and move on. And miracle baby nephew was born.  

So, there it is, a walk down the memory lane of 2017. A year filled with some unexpected twists and turns, but what year isn't filled with those sorts of things? What day isn't filled with those sorts of things? But we always have a choice as to how we weather the storm. 

I choose faith. I choose hope. I choose grit. I choose determination.

My friend Jill bought me a t-shirt for Christmas. It said, “Clear eyes, full hearts, Dave Barnes.” Now, you have to be both a Dave Barnes fan and at least have some familiarity with Friday Night Lights to fully get that reference. The original line from the TV show is “clear eyes, full heart, can’t lose.” As I slipped into that shirt here not too long ago, I began to think, “This is what I want 2018 to look like – clear eyes and a full heart.” I want to walk through 2018 with eyes wide open and a heart that is overflowing with joy and delight, a heart that is full to the brim simply because I know with Jesus I can’t lose. And not losing doesn't mean I think I’m going to sail through 2018 without a care in the world and not an ounce of struggle. I have no doubt those elements will be present. But even in the struggle, my heart can be full, and I can still radiate joy.

So here’s to you, 2018. 

Clear eyes. Full heart. Can’t lose.

2016: Year in Review

I rather like this little tradition of reflecting on the previous year.  This is only the third year I've done it, and I realize probably no one else cares about the seemingly mundane play-by-play of my life for the last year.  But it's proven to be a good exercise for me, to dredge up my journals and flip back through the pages and see all that God has been up to in the last 365 days.  I think these are important exercises, these ponderings of God's faithfulness.  It keeps us rooted, helps remind us of how God orchestrates so many details of our lives, in ways we never expected.

Life comes in seasons and I think 2016 was a season marked by calibration, hitting pause on some aspects of my life and my involvement at my local church, while still moving forward in other areas.

With that, I present to you my 2016, month-by-month, based on entries from my journals:

January: Over Christmas break last year, I decided to finally sit down and start writing a Bible study a couple of friends had been pestering me about.  I had been toiling with the idea for awhile but just kept putting it off.  I wrote I don't know how many lessons over the break and continued into January.  I jotted down in my journal, "It's been awhile since my heart has burned quite like this over a message or a concept.  I'm not sure what God is up to but I sense that the material he is taking me through will lead to something."  I think it led mainly to growth and change for me, as I don't know that the completed study will ever see the light of day again.  But whether it goes anywhere or not doesn't matter - I needed to be obedient to write.  I also started plotting a return trip to Jackson with my friend, Kristen.

February: Whisperings of "Teach my Word" came to me at the IF: Gathering, a nudge, a prompt I kept hearing from the Holy Spirit.  I wasn't sure what to do about it.  I felt like the men on the road to Emmaus, my heart burning with me as I read the Bible.

March: I was still working on the Bible study I had started over Christmas break.  It was exposing a lot of insecurities and doubts.  I desperately wanted to abandon it, but felt compelled to forge ahead.

April: I watched the documentary Unbranded (it really is quite spectacular and I highly recommend it) and my dreams of Jackson rose to the surface all over again.  I had at this point already booked a return flight and was eager to be there already.

May: I wrestled with involvement and commitment to my local church.  It's a long story, but I eventually stepped down from every volunteer role I was involved with, including leading a women's small group and working in the nursery.  I felt restless and out of sorts and uncertain about so many things there and I really didn't know what all of those feelings meant.  Nothing bad was happening, just the church was growing and changing, and I struggled to grow and change with it.

June: My doctor put me on a "wellness plan" as one friend called it, as opposed to a diet.  I was having some chronic health issues and he wanted to sleuth out some things.  It's the healthiest I've ever eaten in my entire life.  I loved it but it was a lot of work.  My dad also went on a diet and has lost something like 70 pounds since then.  I'm so proud of him.  I'm a little less proud of myself because the first day my diet ended, I basically binged on everything I hadn't eaten in a month.  (I happened to buy a t-shirt yesterday at JC Penney's that maybe represents my philosophy on food: "Wish me luck in the Olympics.  Just kidding, I'm on my fifth cupcake.)

Meanwhile at church, I'm still wrestling.  I wrote in my journal on June 26: "I think really at the end of the day I need to a) get an attitude adjustment and b) get over myself."  Story of my life.

July: "I feel so out of sorts with all the changes at work and church, and I just feel disjointed and disoriented.  I don't feel rooted."  At work, we were hiring about 20 new staff and there were some cultural shifts occurring, in a parallel vein to some degree of how my local church was changing.  Just a lot of growth and changes, and I realized I don't embrace change as well as I thought I did.

August: Nothing much must have happened because I didn't bother to write anything.

September: Ah, sweet Jackson.  I flew back to Jackson Hole for two weeks. I bummed around one week with my dear friend Kristen and then spent the second week by myself.  There is truly no place on Planet Earth I love more (except maybe my current location) than this corner of Wyoming.  I always pack a book or two while traveling and while I had already read this one once, I re-read the book I Don't Wait Anymore by Grace Thornton.  Necessary and encouraging.  I highly recommend it.

October: I celebrated my birthday, and as it always seems with the occasional birthday, my life suddenly felt very small and safe.  I realized I was holding on to so many fears.  I kept thinking about the quote from the movie You've Got Mail, "Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Valuable, but small. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?"

November: Well, the obvious happened.  Donald Trump became POTUS. I don't normally comment on external events in my journals, but I felt the need to document this event in history.  I also attended one of Beth Moore's Living Proof Live events and I heard the same words whispered over me that I heard back in February at the IF: Gathering: Teach my Word. Oh, and I went to the Big Game. 

December: I actually registered late in November, but I signed up to go to a conference in Houston, hosted by Beth Moore.  This is not her usual Living Proof event, but will focus instead on women in their 20s and 30s who feel called to teach, write or speak.  After all that had been happening this year in light of what the Holy Spirit had been prompting in me, I felt strongly about going.  The event sold out in less than 5 minutes, but I got a ticket.  A prerequisite for the conference is to complete her Entrusted study, which I started with my friend Alex.  It's been really good so far and I'm eager to plow through the rest of it and then head to Houston.

So what will 2017 hold?  Time will tell.  Give me about another 367 days and you'll find out in my 2017 year-in-review.

Cheers.  

2015: Year in Review

Remember this little prayer from the end of 2014?  Whatever gets me more of Jesus is what I prayed.

Yeah, one of those big, bold prayers that we rightfully should make a habit of praying, but then within about 2 minutes you wish you could take it back.

This past year proved to be a tough year, mainly due to my job and the accompanying stress level.  It was an intense time of growth and refinement on so many levels.  A lot of hard lessons learned, and at times life felt a bit like a crucible.  Joy was a struggle.  Motivation was a challenge.  But I was determined to lean in.  And I was determined to press in that much closer to Jesus.   

Similar to last year, I recap 2015, based on my journal entries.  Always around this time of year, I recite my usual prayers of gratitude that I am a journal-er at heart, prone to cataloging my many thoughts, putting ink to paper.  One of my favorite quotes from Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts echoes my soul: "Because the picking up of a pen isn't painful and ink is cheap medicine.  And I just might live."   

I've spent the last year picking up the pen, cataloging the pain I was experiencing elsewhere in life.

And maybe it was cheap medicine, taking pen to paper.

But it was good medicine.

And I lived.

So, I present to you my 2015 in a consolidated fashion, month-by-month:

(On December 29, 2014, is when I prayed "Whatever gets me more of Jesus.")

January:  By January 18, I was writing, "Can I take back that prayer?"  January felt like the month from Hades.  I was already running for the hills and we weren't even three weeks out from that oh-so-grandiose prayer of mine.  It was a brutal month work-wise and I think I came home nearly every day for lunch and sobbed my face off.  But I also kicked off reading the book of Hebrews, working through it with my small group.  So timely, for so many reasons, as there were so many verses that were nudges and reminders to fix my eyes on Jesus.  It's also the month in which I added this t-shirt to my wardrobe.

February: For the first time in maybe 15 years, I found myself not wanting to travel.  Anywhere.  "I feel like a traitor to my own soul when I admit I no longer have the urge to travel," I wrote.  Me, the girl who had spent a large portion of her 20s finding a plane to get on, suddenly didn't want anything to do with driving, flying, packing, or daydreaming of distant lands.  It was short-lived, however.  I booked a flight to Wyoming three months later.  I felt like less of a traitor after that.

March: "I think I would make a very successful hermit," is the sentiment expressed through most of March.  I wanted to crawl into a dark hole and hide most of this month.  My job was so stressful that most evenings I just wanted to come home, pull the curtains and not speak to or see another human being for a very long time.

April: There are zero entries in the month of April.  Which means it was either so insignificant that I didn't feel compelled to write about anything, or it was so dreadful that I didn't want to record it for posterity and have to relive it ever again.

May:  In this month there was much writing about the Holy Spirit, surrendering to him, and how I usually am unwilling to do so.  I also wrote of the WordStrong sessions I attended at my parents' church, Northwest Bible.  One of their teaching pastors, Mark Trotter, delivered a killer series on Revelation, particularly the closing segments on Revelation 3, sessions 39, 40, and 41.  Rocked my world.  And then I cat/dog/house-sat for my aunt and uncle on Memorial Day weekend.  I simply wrote, "I haven't even had these creatures for 48 hours and I'm over it.  I'm okay if I don't ever have pets again."  No reflection on them as they are well-behaved creatures, I just suddenly realized that weekend I have no idea how I managed to have pets for nearly 29 years of my life.

June: I don't normally comment on external national or world events, but I did feel the need to note that American Pharoah won the Triple Crown.  The TRIPLE CROWN, people.  I have to work at overlooking the misspelling of his name, but seriously the TRIPLE CROWN.  In other news, I'm still cratering mentally and emotionally.  One friend pointed out I may potentially have depression.  I was so thoroughly annoyed with him for even pointing it out because I totally wanted to deny it.  He probably had/has no idea how angry I was with him for even suggesting it.  I was annoyed not that he said it - but maybe because I knew there was truth in it.  I also stepped down as a mentor with Freedom a la Cart and the CATCH program.  I figured I had no business mentoring women, trying to tell them how to be healthy when I couldn't get my own act together.

July: I'm feeling stretched thin. Just totally pulled apart at the seams.  I wrote, "This job is going to do me in.  Some moments this week I have felt like I am reliving the week from Hades back in January." It's also the first time I ever experienced Lakeside.  Loved it.

August: I spent this month praying for a harvest of righteousness and peace, a verse from Hebrews 12. (There are reasons why God intersects certain seasons of our lives with certain portions of His Word.)  "I'm still asking for my view of Jesus to get bigger and for the view of myself to get smaller,"  I jotted down.  I disappeared up to Lakeside again for a weekend, all by myself. I needed the mental break.  I also spent a weekend down in Louisville, attending the World Championship Horse Show.  It had been over 15 years since I had last gone.

September: Ahhh, Wyoming.  How I love you.  I spent 4 days in Jackson Hole, and I don't know I've ever been sadder to leave somewhere before.  And given the number of places I have been before, that's saying something.
    
October: I wrote some more about how much I love Wyoming.  And then I wrote some more about how much my job was killing me. (Don't worry, if you're tired of hearing about my job just in these few paragraphs, you can understand how worn out I was by my own thoughts over the past year.)  "The phrase I keep hearing over and over again in my head is, 'I just want out.' Jesus, it may not be pretty, and there is a whole host of things I am getting wrong, but I will keep putting one foot in front of the other.  I will keep coming before you with this, wrestling it out, still leaning in.  I'm not giving up."  Sheer grit and determination got me through this month.

November: "I just wish I understood better just what it is about my job that makes me want to come unhinged on a regular basis." 

December:  I resigned from my job.  I did a happy dance.  My brother texted me the morning after I gave my resignation to my bosses, asking, "Are the birds chirping and the unicorns still dancing?"  Heck yes they are, I said.  (But here's the crazy thing - by the grace and goodness of God - despite the fact that I resigned from my job, I still have a job! I know, right?! I realize that is not normal.  I was essentially holding down what amounted to two full-time positions within my organization; I merely resigned from one of the positions, and essentially reverted back to the job for which I was originally hired.)

I haven't decided what my prayer for 2016 will be.  Maybe it will be one just as scary as saying "Whatever gets me more of Jesus."  Because as hard as this past year has been, and as much as I certainly would not want to relive it, I do know this:

I got what I asked for.

I got more of Jesus.

And he is always worth whatever heartache we walk through.

2014: (Belated) Year in Review

I know, we're already 5 days into the new year. This is probably a post I should have done a couple of weeks ago, but I was generally enjoying having two weeks off from work and forgetting that I had a job or any other type of adult-like responsibilities.

The end of one year and the beginning of another always brings about reflection.  Year-end reviews.  Annual reports.  Top 50 countdowns.  Top 10 countdowns.  A look back at the year. The usual lists and posts.  All of which are good and worthwhile, because it requires us to pause and take stock.

I've spent the last couple of weeks thumbing through my journals (something I love to do on a regular basis, end-of-year or not).  I wanted to see what all had happened in the course of the year, in my own words.  I give you a recap of my 2014, month-by-month, according to the things I had jotted down in my personal journals:

January: I spent this month wrestling with my past.  Thank you, www.desiringgod.org for this brilliant blog post that unlocked a host of doors for me.

February: Wrestling with my past precipitated saying yes to New Caledonia.  I was officially accepted to go on February 25.

March: I kissed make-up goodbye for 40 days of Lent.  Wow.  Did this ever turn some things around in my head about my insecurities.  I went for 40 days with not a stitch of make-up.  I realize for some women this is not a big deal, but this was significant for me and brought a whole host a freedom in the aftermath.

April: I experienced the worst physical pain of my life in this month.  I mean, really.  It was awful.  I hope to never experience it again.  And I had to put my pony down.  Double whammy.  Also don't want to experience that again.

May:  I was offered a promotion and I took it. (I am now questioning my sanity.)

June: I started volunteering with an organization called Freedom a la Cart. It's been messing with all sorts of nooks and crannies of my heart, in the best way possible.

July: I jetted my way across the globe to New Caledonia for two weeks with Jesus Film Mission Trips and I watched God work a miracle in me.       

August: I checked a whole host of things off the bucket list, including going to New Zealand, visiting Hobbiton and going horseback riding on the beach.  An early 30th birthday gift to myself.  So worth it. 

September: I moved out of my parents' house and into my own apartment.  Right thing at the right time in the right location.  (And I had vowed I would not turn 30 and still be living at home with my parents.  Nothing like making it happen a month before that deadline arrives.)

October: I turned 30.  That alone is enough.

November: This was a month spent learning to live with ambiguity and uncertainty, being patient and trusting and begging God to not send me up from here (wherever here is) unless he goes with me.

December: Waiting.  A whole lot of time spent thinking about waiting, in all areas of my life.  Louie Giglio's Advent sermon from 2013 called "Waiting Here For You" marked so many thoughts.

So, there it is - 2014.  Another year gone by yet again.

And as I look toward 2015, I recently wrote down in one of my journal entries:

"As much as I am terrified to pray it, I want whatever gets me more of You in 2015."

Check back in a year and I'll let you know if I got more of Jesus.  I'm positive the answer will be yes.

Because Jesus is always willing to give us more of Him.