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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....

Disguised Blessings

Mid-week comes with the feeling of tiny people running sandpaper across the back of my throat. The inability to swallow. A trip to a walk-in clinic and white-coats poking sticks down my throat.

And it’s really hard to put it all in flowery terms, wrap it up in a bow and say, “This really is a terrific way to spend a Wednesday!”

Because it’s just not what I had in mind.

My regenerated heart is strange though. It’s turned inside out or something.

Because I find myself spraying my throat with medicinal things and thanking God for another reminder of how much I need Him.

Thanking Him for sickness to show my frailty. My lack of control.

He gives me what I need.

Shows me all I need.

Him.


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