The Parish

Twenty-eight

It’s that time of year again:

the turning of the clock

flipping of the calendar

twelve months

three-hundred and sixty-five days.

It’s my birthday.

For some people the time of yearlong reflection is the end of the year. But for me, it seems like it’s always been my birthday.

So, for whatever good it’ll do you, here are some of my observations and realizations from the past 365 days.

Ahem.

When you stop measuring life in semesters, it seems to go a lot, lot faster.

There was a time I did not do this—from 2009 until 2012ish. But then, and until now, I still measured it by summers: when we were going to Leadership Weekend, Program Training, and finally leave for Training Week and a full summer of FUGE Camps. As it is looking like that part of our lives has come to a close, it’s almost as if the measuring stick of time that we have used so long is gone, and in its place are memory milestones that look like growth, glory, and good, good times.

But it also makes each day a little brighter and sweeter because they each stand alone. Sure, there are mile markers along the way, however they are not as stringent. This could be good or bad, I think.

I intend for it to be good.

Taking every day one day at a time to savor, delight and do good in.

Here we go, Thursday. You’re up!

Every day, my strongest desires are to do what I love and make Him smile.

This means literally adjusting my attitude every day, saturating myself in His word, and constantly training my brain to think of Christ and His statutes all the time. I will let you guess which of those I struggle with.

Puppies are a lot like children.

And somewhere in the middle of having one, we decided it would be a good idea to get another. Maybe this is a lot like having children, too. I wouldn’t know.

Creating things—good, quality things—takes time and effort.

Paintings, drawings, wood things, writing. Bible studies, friendships, relationships, marriage. Time. And effort. They are things that fall under the umbrella of quality, not quantity. It ain’t easy. But most good things aren’t.

The Gospel is infinitely deep.

It is the opposite of anything that could possibly mean shallow.

Ben and I have had the ridiculous blessing of serving with a college ministry for the past two years. One thing our pastor drives home with every lesson—but from a completely different direction each week—is the message of Jesus, what He did, why He did it, and what it means for us now, yesterday, and forever. It’s oh so overwhelming and magnificent and peace-bringing and fill-to-overflowing at the same time. He’s so big, and there is something new to learn about him every day.

These sound like simple truths, and they may be, but I think there is something to say about the One who takes simple and turns it on its head.

 

In number twenty-seven, I graduated, directed, loved on some kids, solved some crises. My phone broke, but my bones were fine. I wrote some stories and painted some pictures, bought a kiwi-green car named Monte. 

But most of all, I feel like I poured myself out over and over again. I know what it feels like to be completely and absolutely empty and exhausted, but also have experienced the sweet, refreshing fulfillment that only Christ can provide. Over the past fifty-two weeks, I have drunk more chai tea lattes over conversations about life and Jesus than I ever have before. More texts, more targeted prayers, more letters, more tweets (Lord, save me now), pic-stitches, and communicating in ways that meet people we minister to where they are. Over the past three months alone, I have set myself on the back burner more times than not, and walked away from exhausting work fulfilled not because of anything—anything—I have done, but because of the prayers that have been answered and the grace that has been poured out on me throughout the day, and most times, throughout the hours.

I leave number twenty-seven humbled, grateful, in awe, and a little bit more in love with Him than I entered it. As I sit on our blue couch, I do so as a newly twenty-eight year old who is looking forward to lots of things: coffee tomorrow. Counseling kids and communicating with families. Reading a stupid science fiction book that’s on my night stand, and writing a short story over the next few days.

I’m looking forward to getting out of this country, soon, but in the mean time, I desire to love well and make much of the One who knows my name right where I am at. I love my puppies. Absolutely adore my husband. And smile every time I come in our house.

Number twenty-eight, I’m looking forward to your blessings.

Here’s to a few more salads, miles, chapters read, written, and rewritten. Episodes of Gilmore Girls, lattes, hours of overtime, and texts, tweets, notes, and cards. Here’s to a little less stress, homework, deadlines, and craziness.

I’m looking forward to you, twenty-eight. You’ve got big shoes to fill.