It’s hard to write a reflection on this year because so much has happened. There was a lot of good, day-to-day, mundane sort of moments. They’re hard to recall because they were not particularly noteworthy as they happened. I know they were there and I appreciate them for what they were.

There were also a lot of bad things, and at times they felt much bigger. For me, 2021 ended with a fall, a very dramatic cancer scare, and a major surgery. Every time I try to write about that in detail, it gets too long and complicated. Bullet points, for now, will have to suffice.

After some months of dealing with that trauma and enjoying my new job, I was in a car accident. Thankfully my car took the worst of it, but I suddenly found myself with more trauma. I bought a new car. I settled into counseling with a new person. And then someone who has been very important in my faith journey passed away very suddenly.

Trauma, meet Rattled Faith. You two are sure to be friends.

For a few dark and scary days, I contemplated life without God. Suffering is hard. There are moments in life when hope feels like an impossible thing, a nebulous concept, a four letter word. But God is infinite in wisdom, abounding in glory, overflowing with love. And He reminded me of this. He held on to me while my grip loosened on Him. And those dark, scary days ended.

I went to a week-long camp with my church’s youth group, and even though those sessions were not meant for me as a mentor, they were meant for me as a human. The Lord sustains.

Things got a little easier after that. And while untangling the complicated knots that suffering and trauma have twisted into my soul has not been an easy feat, it has been possible. With God all things are possible.

We’re still untangling. His grip is still tighter than mine sometimes. But it’s been good.

Hard.

Complicated.

Too much for words.

But getting better.

Becoming good.

As I stand on the precipice of 2023, I dare to hope. I don’t know what storms await or what sunny shores I may find, but I dare to hope. There will be heartache. There will be beauty. And, at the end of it all, there will be good.