January 1st, 2016.
A time to reflect on 2015, pray for 2016, and give thanks for both.
2015 brought me to 3 continents. 8 countries. It left me with 3 new tattoos and I left 24 pounds with it. I rode over oceans in a dozen airplanes. I went diving with Great White sharks in a little place called Shark Alley. I drove through endless fields of yellow to Cape Town, South Africa. I saw places I never dreamed I’d see.
I lived in a college house, my mom’s house, a tent, a guest house off the beach, a spare room in a village compound, a Kathmandu family’s living room, a basement in the Indian jungle, a second-story hotel room, and an orphanage atop a mountain.
I’ve ridden planes, busses, mopeds, and tuk-tuks. I’ve found myself amidst the world. I’ve lived alongside some of the poorest people on the planet. I’ve prayed in churches, temples, and schools. I’ve woken up in the Himalayan mountains, finished college, led worship for the masses. I’ve fallen asleep on Indian streets and airport floors. I quit my crappy job and watched the sunrise on an African safari. I’ve thrown up, cried, sprained my ankle. I lost my dad and my dog, anxiously awaited news as my mom went into surgery. I left the town I’ve known for 4 years and the state I’ve known for 22.
I celebrated my 23rd birthday around a homemade cake and a dining room table in Nepal. I stood for 24 hours to give a voice to the voiceless. I’ve sang karaoke in crowded bars and otherwise silent cars. I’ve had parasites and panic attacks. I’ve talked Jesus with bartenders and burned hurtful words and memories in roaring bonfires. I’ve jumped in the Pacific Ocean wearing all my clothes, narrowly avoided death by angry monkey, planned my mom’s 60th birthday party, learned to change the strings of my guitar.
I’ve said goodbye to harmful relationships with dangerous people and toxic habits. I’ve forgiven and reconciled other relationships, read more books than any year prior. I watched my best friend and sister get married and yelled at her for becoming pregnant while I’m far away from home. I’ve attended conferences and given sermons. I’ve missed weddings and funerals, birthdays and baptisms. I’ve eaten more white rice than America consumes in a year and I’ve stopped wearing makeup.
I’ve made new friends, become part of families around the world, and met countless people who inspire me to be more like Jesus. I’ve prayed bigger, bolder prayers. I’ve asked God hard questions; I’ve asked myself hard questions. I’ve seen God’s faithfulness in a new way every day. I’ve discovered new passions and been set on fire for Jesus and the world. I’ve shed the old self and taken on the new. I’ve fallen in love with Jesus and with myself.
I’m walking into 2016 on a balcony in Cambodia with friends from all over the United States and India and we’re sharing struggles and laughter over a to-die-for barbecue. My legs are almost entirely covered in bug bites and my hair is thin and brittle from knots and dreads I’ve had to pull out. I smell myself, sweaty and unshowered, after the bathroom flood of the century. My face is naked, my belly is full of instant coffee and half-cooked pancakes. There’s dirt and blood on my hands. My legs are stronger than they were last year. My body is sore and my back is filled with knots. I’ve seen God perform miracles this year. The biggest miracle is that He’s taken me here. He’s answered the biggest craziest prayer I’ve ever prayed.
To sum up 365 days of love, loss, prayer, fight, desperation, fear, joy, and deliverance is impossible. In 2015, I nearly adopted an 8-year-old boy. I nearly flew home from India to reunite with my family. I nearly broke my ankle. I nearly got back together with an ex-boyfriend and I nearly gave up on God. But all of these “amosts”—these “what ifs” and “could have beens”— are irrelevant. They are nothing in comparison to God’s will and His goodness.
I have a vision for 2016. This is the first year I’m walking into clear-headed and sound-minded. I spent much of the first day of the new year envisioning what it would look like. I’ll be home this year. I’ll move into the trusty, familiar blue bedroom off the upstairs hallway of my mom’s house in my hometown. I’ll spend the second half of the year doing whatever it is God calls me to next. Right now, I have no idea what that is. But I see it and it is good. As I pray over this new year—full of change and growth and life—I pray that it is the year of love. In what capacity, I can’t know, but I know that this year will be filled with love and beauty and lightness. This year is an inspired year. God has big plans for me this year—for all of us.
Happy New Year from Cambodia!
