365/180

365 // July 5, 2016, 4:52pm

I sit on my bed, tucked deep into a nest of soft blankets and pillows. A wild storm rattles the windowpanes and batters the sides of the house. The sky is green and the automated voice on the television demands that I retreat to the basement, and yet I've chosen the uppermost level of the structure to take refuge. My room is dark, save for the glow of my phone screen. I've plugged in both my phone and my laptop to ensure full batteries, should the power go out. I'm home alone, and storms are my favorite thing. But despite the electricity in the air and the heat in my pounding chest, somehow I feel a little numb this evening.

I'm so numb that at first, I don't know how to react to the little red '1' that bubbles up from the envelope icon at the bottom of my phone screen. Its just an email, and at this time of day, its probably just spam. So I swipe my thumb across the glass to obliterate the cluttery crimson number. I miss, and accidentally delete the message below the newest one instead. No matter, that one wasn't important either. I glance at the stubborn, unread message as I ready my stumpy finger to swipe again. Then I read the sender's name. He's the director of admissions at Bethel, and his is the one name I've been praying to see in my inbox for the past month. I skim the message until I read the only word that matters.

Congratulations!

The tears come, then, and I'm no longer numb, although I sit in a damp puddle of silence for two more minutes, re- and re-reading to make sure I'm reading correctly. I got in I got in I got in I waited and I waited and I got in I got in I got in. My high school choir director's cell is the first number I dial. He sounds relieved. So do I. Call #2 is my mom. I think she might've cried if she hadn't been focused on driving through tornado country in the middle of a tornado. Daddy sounds shocked. So do I. And yet none of it is quite shocking. The rain patts patts patts, as if it too is cheering.

180 // July 5, 2017

The sky is blue today - the haze from last night's pyrotechnics has cleared. I lay sprawled on my bedroom floor, scribbling my brain into a black Moleskine. I don't think I've gone more than a week without journaling since last August. My phone lurches slightly against the hardwood floor, jiggling another centimeter with every vibration. I flip it over to check the screen. A voice message from my best friend who's off curing cancer in DC. His stern, yet kind voice saying, "I love you, I'm praying for you."

I have lots of friends like this one - people I wouldn't have met if I hadn't gotten that email exactly one year ago today. Strong, brave young men and women who love their friends and families lots and love their God lots more. They are driven and hardworking and patient and kind. We've laughed and cried over cups of coffee and slices of cheesecake, we've stayed out late and gotten up early. We've held each other up and bowed our heads in prayer. When the going got tough, I went to them, and I never felt numb or alone for a single second, even as the rain pounded.

My acceptance to Bethel exactly 365 days ago threw my life into a season of storms not unlike the one that provided the soundtrack to my favorite congratulations. August was a clear sky, September brought gray clouds. October was a soft pattering of rain, and November was a torrent. December mimicked a hurricane, and January saw some rough seas, too. February inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. March and April danced with gratitude when they realized they had survived the floods. May breathed a sigh of relief. It is well, she whispered. It is well.

A 180-degree turn is a complete change in direction. As a junior in high school, I had dreams of attending the University of Minnesota to get my degree in criminal psychology so I could become a prison psychologist. 365 days later, I've declared a double major in English Literature & Writing and journalism, and a minor in philosophy. I'd like to be an editor someday. (You can't get much more 180 than that.) And I'm so stupidly happy. The last year has definitely not been without its challenges. I overcame heartbreak, crippling illness, and devastating disappointment, among other obstacles. But the thing is that when you exercise, you get stronger. Likewise, when you stretch your mind, you get wiser. When you open your heart, you learn how to love better, and how to receive love in the best way. I'm blessed to say that I have been broken. I've been shattered countless times over the last 365 days. But in the same way that the Japanese mend broken pottery with gold, so I have been fortified and made more beautiful by the things that have sought to cause me pain.

Year one has been everything and nothing I'd hoped it would be. I've learned to hold my expectations loosely, and to leave the door to my mind open wide so things can flit in, be wrestled with, and then let back out again. I want to be changed and reformed and broken over and over again. 365 days and a 180 degree turn later, and I'm better, yet I haven't "arrived." 

And truly, I hope I never do.

Here's to a life changed, a life ever-changing, and a life endlessly beginning. 

Be broken. Be well.

h