2021 learnings & leanings
2021 was something. When I sit and think about it all, last January seems like ages ago, and in many ways I was almost entirely different. I spent today as I usually do, on the sand with my journal and Bible to reflect and be still, to process and dream. It’s a tradition I’ve kept for the past serval years, one that I intend to keep for many more.
Last year on the sand, a few miles north from where I sat today, I felt the Lord lead me to Isaiah 58, speaking it over the year to come. It instantly captivated me, beautiful imagery, things that resonated deeply.
My favorite part comes in verses 10-12, “I will always show you where to go. I’ll give you a full life in the emptiest of places— firm muscles, strong bones, I will satisfy your desire in scorched places. You’ll be like a well-watered garden, a gurgling spring that never runs dry. You’ll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew, rebuild the foundations from out of your past. You’ll be known as those who can fix anything, restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate, make the community livable again.”
It’s a stunning promise, one that invites more depth to faith. I could sense even then, that He would use this year to make me stronger, I just had no idea how. I’ve always thought it funny that resilience and strength are things we often want, but we forget the cost. We are not as a people, resilient by nature — resilience is formed, usually in the fire, in the trial and tribulation seasons. That prayer will be answered, but we often neglect to realize just how we might receive it.
That resilience came alright, but from a year marked by a heavy dose of pain. The first six months, I wrestled through some of the most agonizing anxiety I have ever known. I woke up nearly everyday to an elevated heart rate, my stomach in my feet. I couldn’t get my brain to quiet, I could hardly get my body to still. And in that fortress apartment where I lived, six stories above the city I love, I was quietly wasting away. Add onto that a family health crisis that nearly took someone I love most in this world and what was a resurrection-level miracle, and you get the storm that felt like it was swallowing me alive.
And then, in July, my tender and desperate prayer for relief came in the form of a relationship ending entirely — a prayer for breakthrough answered in the breaking. Of course, anything ending, especially something good and wild and creative, is coupled with feelings of grief. But, the lack of honesty, emotional health and maturity, coupled with the knowledge that things might never change, resulted in a grieving process my heart had entered into with my brain entirely unaware. These things I knew I needed and wanted, keys to success in anything relational, I had come to terms with not having, and so, came grief. At the point the ending came, I realized that I had actually already been grieving for many months before. Isn’t it wild how smart our hearts are? How they often know things before our brain can wrap words around them?
The second half of the year became a whirlwind of travel, writing, feeling, healing, and processing. It was as though the lid had been blown off my life, and things that previously seemed impossible were dropped into the palm of my hand. The chance to go to Europe, the reigniting of an acting career, the development of new creative gifting.
Relationally, my friendships grew in ways I’d never known. I was learning to rely on people in a way I never had to before, in a way that made me feel uncomfortable and needy, but widened my understanding of generosity, as well as my ideas of community. The Lord asked me into a season of flexibility, of learning the sheer humility needed to ask for help, and to rely on anyone — things I am not naturally gifted in.
I spent a lot of time with myself, and I fell in love with being alone, with dreaming by myself, with planning trips and plotting adventures, walking 32,000 steps a day and taking hundreds of photos. It has felt as though the Lord has taken me on a whirlwind adventure these past months, showing me the things and places He’s made, cultivating a deep sense of wonder my heart has never known, romancing me in ways beyond my wildest imagination. No love is this good.
I traveled to over 30 cities, a few countries, and several states, and for four months, I didn’t stay anywhere for longer than a week and a half.
London was beautiful and crisp, the South of France was colorful and warm and decadent. Chicago amazed me, rising off the river, and Austin made me nostalgic for summers in the South. Athens offered new female community and free fried chicken and workouts in the rain, and Miami felt like a tropical paradise where we danced all day and let the sun heal what the city couldn’t.
Weddings and reunions and photoshoots and worship leading. Hosting dinners and growing [gather] and dreaming for things I had long since put to rest. In the wild of it all, the pain and the joy, sometimes in the same breath, I realized that God was making good on His promises to me. I can look back and see the way I’ve come, the ever active and intentional decision to go through the wilderness of pain and emotion, instead of trying to go around it and avoid. In what felt like renovation in my heart and life, He was satisfying desires in the scorched, burned places of my heart. He was making my bones strong, showing me how to carry things, training me to hold it all. It was uncomfortable at times, to be so thoroughly in renovation —- a house with walls half-built and paint on only some walls isn’t meant to be lived in forever. But, He was making it all livable, He was making me livable — better and more resilient than I had ever thought possible.
I have no idea what this year will hold. Hopefully more travel, more depth in relationships & growth in gifting. More miracles witnessed and intimacy with Jesus. The prioritization of health and the practice of rest. In this new year, I can only hope for more, and I’m learning that while I can set rhythms and dream wide, I can only plan so far ahead, and even then, I always want to choose to let God do more than I can ask or imagine. So, here’s to more of the gritty resilience, a deeper sense of wonder, peace in the chaos of a life well-lived.
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21 LESSONS FROM 2021 —
gratitude is the lens through which everything changes.
time heals nothing if it’s without intentionality.
let people call you out. the echo chamber is a lonely place to live.
what you behold, you become, and what has your attention usually has more of your heart than you think.
character is what is consistent — someone may have great qualities and a good heart, but character shows itself in action.
a good suitcase is a very worthwhile investment.
people in pain (without proper ways to cope) are often the most dangerous kind.
God withholds no good thing - if it’s being withheld, maybe it isn’t good, or maybe it just isn’t good y e t.
resurrection is real, I’ve seen it.
no person is worth your peace.
sometimes you aren’t stuck, sometimes God just wants you to be still.
fear and love are life’s biggest motivators.
don’t hold things so tightly that you squeeze the life out of them.
people willing to grow are some of the most magnificent.
tenderness is key to longevity.
foaming milk for your coffee is a game-changer.
trust is built through time + believable behavior.
sometimes the things formed in us in the waiting, are better than the things we were waiting for.
delays are not denials.
there is new to be done in us to carry the new that God has for us.
carry a climate about you that is sunny.
