Saturday, October 15, 2016

on the other side of 22


Every year, I have written a birthday post. It's been a time to use my words to bid ado to the year previous and prepare/pray/dream/cast vision about the new year ahead. It's something I have always considered a sacred group of words that seek to honor the blessing living this life is, which threaded together create a concrete timeline for reflection later -- a visual of what the Lord will do and has done.

Last year, I felt itchy and restless. I couldn't bring the words to my fingers tips, let alone know what words I wanted to represent my twenty-second year. My world was in more limbo than ever had it been before. This birthday came on the eve of change. In the middle of my final quarter of college, I entered a new chapter altogether. What would follow after that early day in October only created more limbo and more uncertainty.

Goodbyes. Unemployment. Adventures. Urgent care trips. Weddings. Distance. All things I couldn't see coming. 

I wracked my heart and brain at the time for the words and the vision and the prayer, but I felt slightly like someone had turned off my gravity switch and I was just floating around bumping into people, things, moments, and memories. What was I going to do with such a blurry outlook with no words or actions to fill the void? 

To be honest, here we are a year later, on the other side of 22, and I still haven't a solid conglomeration of words or a complete understanding of the past year. Or the new one -- 23 feels just as foggy.

Yet, I'm pretty sure I'm okay with the fog and the confusion. Don't get me wrong it's still strange and uncomfortable at times, but I'm grateful to not understand everything. I believe in a Creator who does know it all, therefore surrendering complete knowledge comes with the territory.

This I know: last year was sacred and this coming year will be just as sacred, regardless of what comes my way. Life is one heck of a gift and it kills me to doubt any bit of it.

For 23, I'm jumping on the roller coaster and lowering the bar tight against me. There will be whoops and dips and loops.

"Hope can be a mighty powerful thing when you decide to tangle it into a journey. Hope can shake things up a bit. It'll convince you that even if you don't know which direction you're headed in, something will meet you at the end." - Hannah Brencher, If You Find This Letter 

I'm going to write this year a love letter drenched in hope. It'll be beautiful and broken -- just the way it's meant to be. 
© Clarissa Doesn't Explain it All.
Maira Gall