So, this year, I wrote a book. It was a pretty long book; it took a while to write. My character, she had some ups and downs. It was a roller coaster of a book.
She had some amazing blessings. She moved into a new house; a beautiful, big new house that her whole family can feel at home in. Her family inherited over 10 new pets, mostly chickens, but a dog, a frog, and a few fish, too. She made sparked new relationships, she made new friends, she grew closer to old ones. Her church flourished, the teachers and teaching seeming better than it ever had. She vacationed at two of her friends’ houses, two friends she only gets to see but once a year. Her whole family went on trips and adventures--to festivals themed after berries, conferences with the most amazing singing you’ve ever heard, beaches that they went far too out in, parades with the best fireworks she’d ever seen, and Wal-Marts. Oh my gosh, three of her siblings became Christians and were baptized-- three! That made all of them Christians. She grew to love, love, love, love her family—all of it, extended or not, to the point where she felt like she could possibly explode. I don’t think she could stress that enough. She learned a lot, talked a lot, laughed a lot.
But she also cried a lot.
My character, she questioned God. Have you ever done that before? Where you’re just so sad, so confused, so overwhelmed, and the only thing you know is that God was right in the middle of it? So, you questioned Him? She did. She asked Him why. She said to Him, “This is all part of the plan?” Death surrounded her. She would sob and cry on her bed, or sit silently in a state of numbness, and wonder what God was doing. What was He doing? Why was He putting not only her but her whole family through this? What was His goal? My character, she still doesn’t really know the answer.
But if I had to choose a theme for her book, it would be hope.
Outrageous, irrational, illogical hope. It didn’t make sense, to hope and to trust. Hoping hadn’t saved her family, though she hoped until she believed that they would survive. Hoping hadn’t fixed all her problems. Hoping couldn’t erase her family’s trauma. Hoping couldn’t make her family whole again.
Yet, that’s what she did. She hoped, and she hoped, and she hoped until every fiber in her being was hope. What exactly was it that she hoped for? It was many things. Once, she hoped for a house, or a prize, or nice Christmas presents. She hoped for sicknesses to be cured and illnesses to be healed. She hoped for salvation. But when the fun and happy stuff was over, and the deaths had been done, and there was nothing to hope to come, what was it she hoped for?
The only thing I can think of is God.
She hoped for God. She grew to recognize when she was hoping for something. She was encompassed by it, feeling it rise in her chest, pumping through her veins, and she clung to it for dear life like it was the last thing she had. Her hope was what kept her going, what made life possible. She’d sing strangled songs of trust, her voice cracking when she sang it so loud in defiance, her voice shuddering when she whispered it as a promise to both herself and God. She was exhausted, overwhelmed, completely worn out—mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally. She just decided to hand it all over to God, then. She couldn’t do this herself. Quite frankly, it was impossible. But she believed Him, somehow. She told Him she knew He had a plan, a purpose, and even if she didn't know or understand it, she would trust that He had a reason. She would comfort herself by remembering that every single detail of the plan was known to God and that there would come an end. She wouldn’t give up. She hoped for God, she knew He was there with her, and she trusted Him through it all, even when she questioned Him. It didn’t even make sense to her sometimes; it would take over her like a spell that she couldn’t control. But she embraced it and accepted it and made it her anthem. Hope, hope, hope.
Then, the end of her book came, and her family decided to go out with some noise. This was the final chapter, the final page, the final paragraph. The minutes ticked by, and when they got to the last one, the big 12, they all shouted, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” and banged pots and whooped and hollered and whistled. They tromped around their yard and spotted fireworks, shouting “Look!” when they saw a flash of color between two trees. They couldn’t see all of them, no, but they could certainly hear all of them. It was like a battlefield, with cannonballs going off in every direction, all of them pounding, pounding, pounding down the street and in her ear. It filled her with awe and wonder. How beautiful it was.
Her mother, she said she loved the fireworks, the New Year, that it was a time when everyone celebrated life. My character, she had never thought about it that way before. Her neighborhood--they were celebrating life. They were cheerful and happy and excited. They were proud of their achievements of the past year; glad they had finished it. And they were excited for what was going to come, the adventures they were going to take, the risks they were going to make, the happiness they were going to feel. It was a new year, full of new possibilities and new ideas. It was the close of an old year, full of it good memories and fun times.
And somehow, in some way, her family celebrated.
They celebrated the past year, even with all the hardships and sorrow and pain. They celebrated how they had grown, how they had learned, how they had loved. They celebrated the new year, even with all the uncertainty and changes and differences. They celebrated how they had new starts, new goals, new plans, new journeys. They celebrated life at its essence. It was beautiful.
That character... she is me. Her story is mine. This book is 2021. Her journey is my journey. This is what my year looked like. All of this happened to me. I had my ups, my highs, my moments of pure joy. And I had my way downs, my lows, my moments of depression.
But, you know, through it all, and through all that is going to come, I have my family. I have my friends. But most importantly, most importantly, I have my God.
Word Count: 1,152
Happy (Belated) New Year, everybody! I hope your year is off to a great start! Thanks for reading!
PS. Sorry I never posted something for Christmas. I still have an idea that I hope I'll be able to write soon, though :).
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