January held tension and celebration and long nights. January saw me wobble around on roller skates and package presents in the hospital.
February brought a busted ego and sweet friends to sit knee to knee with, times to help me relearn friendship. February made me desperate for the Lord.
March shook me free of my expectations; March taught me how to be a friend. March brought me face to face with places just in my backyard, just outside comfortable Vanderbilt.
April gave me a roller coaster through the best examples of sisterhood I’ve ever had. April had me quoting Max Lucado and teary over the year’s end.
May brought me home.
June threw me into an apartment with bleary-eyed mornings and rent to pay and roommates and a big girl job. June taught me that offices with laughter and collaboration and donuts definitely exist and that Christ makes it possible.
July was sweet. July meant trips to the lake and day-old Jake’s Bakes cookies and apartment-couch-lying. July felt like recess.
August kicked me out of the country and into the freshest homesickness I’ve felt.
September showed me dinners around a foreign table. September showed me that laughter knows no linguistic boundaries.
October brought me to my knees, smacking me in the face with how much I do not know. October taught me that wobbly trust is still trust.
November saw global terror and sorrow that we felt so close in Europe. November was weary.
December meant goodbye to one home and hello to another: hello to happy reunions made of fudge-baking and people-watching and tex-mex-eating. December made it hard to say goodbye to 2015.
It’s January again. He’s whispering something, too: not “Be better this year” or “Figure yourself out.” It’s quiet, but He’s whispering of more fellowship and faith and growth, just as He did all the years before: “Let’s go again.”