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How to have a truly happy new year.

For the first time in years, I don’t remember my New Year’s resolution from January. Usually, I write it down in my journal or on a note I stick to my mirror. There’s been many of those dog-eared sticky notes from years past. The year of contentment. Speaking life. We passed pancakes across the breakfast table on January 1st this year. “What do you want from 2018?” I can’t remember my answer. I know what I didn’t want though. I didn’t want to walk into her office and share the parts of my life I’m inclined to hide. I didn’t want to Facetime her the day after she delivered her baby that never breathed. I didn’t want to spend four months wondering how I’d walk into her house on Christmas day and see her empty chair. I didn’t want to go on another first date that led nowhere. We sit across from each other in a little coffee shop in Colorado, picking at a charcuterie board. “When I think about all of the things I have left to go through,” her voice cracks....

Even Me

“How does that make you feel?” She searches my face for answers.

Do you mean? That it’s the billionth time I’ve messed up this week. That I can barely lift my head up. That I can barely put it down to pray. That I’ve done all of things that I don’t want to do. That I haven’t done all of the things I want to do.

How do I feel?

I swallow tears. “Like a failure,” I whisper.

Then…there are four of us praying on the carpet, on the couch. Between sobs.

I thank God for loving me still—loving me now. In all of my secrets and all of my shame.

That the gospel is even for people like me. That Jesus died for me.

How does that make me feel?

I weep.

Because.

Words.

“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

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