A New Story – A New Year

From paralyzing fear to small steps of faith

Hello Friend! It is January 1, 2025. Happy New Year! Today marks the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another. I don’t know about you, but for me, this particular holiday has always come with mixed feelings. I love the idea of starting over from scratch. A blank page can be so refreshing. But… it can also be intimidating. We tend to attach the turn of the calendar year to significant expectations. For some of us, those expectations come with immense (and likely unnecessary) pressure.

“I WILL lose those extra 15 pounds this year! I will wake up at 5 a.m. every single day and prioritize working out. I will cook every meal from scratch and meal-prep every weekend. I WILL stick to my diet!”

“I am determined to make more margin in my life. I will not overcommit this year. I will intentionally be present in the moment, and NOT worry about what I may have missed and still have left undone.”

“I WILL prioritize my spiritual life this year. After my 5 a.m. workout, I will quickly shower and then spend at least 30 minutes reading the Bible, journaling, or in prayer before the household gets up and going.”

Are you exhausted yet? I am! While these are amicable goals, this entire list is likely unreasonable, especially if you were to try to tackle this all at the same time. I certainly would love to accomplish ALL of these resolutions this upcoming year, but I have learned less is more when approaching goals for the new year. What about you?

I never was one of those “Word of the Year” people. The idea sounded lovely. It’s actually kind of “literary” which would suggest I should have loved the idea. But, for some reason, I could never wrap my head (or maybe it was my heart) around it. Until two years ago…

It was December of 2022 and I was trudging towards the end of the year defeated. We ended 2021 with enthusiasm as we had started to settle into our relocated state, new home, and had just launched business operations at our new corporate headquarters. Our outlook was incredibly optimistic. We were energized! This was it - 2022 was going to be our best year yet!

However, just four months in, our daughter became completely debilitated with significant, undiagnosable back pain. By the end of May, she was hospitalized and treated by one of the top neuroscience departments in the country. These specialists discovered she had an extremely rare cyst growing inside her spinal column that was crushing her spinal cord, causing immense pain and paralysis from the waist down. Miraculously, her neurosurgeon was able to gain access to the enclosed cyst and drain it, relieving the compression on her spinal cord. Rejoicing and BEYOND relieved, we were released from the hospital and returned home.

Once she successfully got her feet back under her and regained her strength, I felt a tug from the Lord to write a book that many people suggested I draft for nearly fifteen years. Despite their encouragement, I never saw myself writing non-fiction. I am an editor and a children’s author by “trade.” Whimsy and imagination are my preferred creative playgrounds. But, my renewed perspective of the goodness of God after my daughter’s release from the hospital, led me to entertain the idea that perhaps I did have a story to share after all.

Though willing, I was still incredibly reluctant. I knew how painful it would be to relive it all on the page. But then I remembered how isolated and discouraged I felt during my own seasons of longsuffering and thought if sharing my story could offer someone comfort or encouragement, then it was worth it. For that individual woman – whoever she was, I agreed to do “the next right thing.” I would take up my pen and relive all the HARD in hopes of offering empathy, compassion, and solidarity to someone in need. Someone like me…

A mere four months later, I took my daughter back for a follow-up screening. We were so confident this was just a routine appointment that my husband was traveling for work across the country and did not attend the appointment with us. The doctor pulled up the images and immediately, my heart stopped. Glaring at me through the screen was that horrific white mass. The cyst was not only present but had regrown to more than half of its original size. I was devastated. My daughter was terrified. Since her symptoms were not “acute” at that moment, there was nothing to do but go back home and wait. Wait… while this ticking time bomb developed in her spinal column threatening to compromise her entire nervous system.

Two days later, I stood in my bathroom (the only place I could be alone without my daughter seeing how upset I was) and cried out to God with everything in me.

“I thought we were done with this season of suffering, Lord. How much more can we possibly take?”

A song came on and interrupted my thoughts by Maverick City Worship called “The Story I’ll Tell” (if you haven’t heard it, take a listen… it is so brave and beautiful). At that moment, without any assurance that things would get any better, I joined the chorus and declared that I would testify of the goodness of God. Even though the hour was dark, I would sing to the Rock. There was nothing else. All that I had left was highest praise.

Arms raised and weeping, I sang this chorus over and over. Then, filled with a faith I didn’t even know was possible, I wrote the final chapters of my book (which I had only started just a few months prior). I was missing a huge section in the middle, but God clearly showed me how I was to begin and end the book. I was not a champion cheering on others from my mountain top of victory. Instead, I was a fellow sojourner on the road marked with suffering. It was not my plan at all, but I surrendered.

“Lord, if I can reach one more person with your message of hope because I remain in hardship, then I am willing.”

That all sounds so stirring and inspiring when written out like that, right? Yet, how many of you know all too well that these moments of confident assurance wane as we walk them out over extended periods of time? By the time we were in that nebulous gray area between Christmas and the New Year, I was DONE! The “joy” of the holidays was overshadowed by fear and deep disappointment. I was so discouraged. I didn’t want to face another new year full of ongoing difficulties.

By this point, I had completely stopped writing my manuscript. Resentment had settled into my heart. So once again, I found myself in my bathroom bringing my burdens to the Lord. Apparently, this is the only place I can seem to accomplish this kind of dialogue with Him… (any other moms get it?). It wasn’t a desperate breakdown like my earlier engagement, but simply a quiet plea for Him to help me have some sense of direction or encouragement for whatever was ahead in the new year.

In the stillness of that moment, I clearly heard an intimate whisper from the Lord. It was a single word – courage. Courage…? I had become paralyzed by fear. I did not feel courageous at all. However, I didn’t turn away. Instead, I leaned in further, praying about what “courage” was supposed to look like. It looked like a willingness to say yes, no matter what. To say yes, even when faced with fear; when faced with the unknown. It meant bravely trusting for provision when all I saw was lack. It meant fighting for faith and choosing to believe even when my heart had waxed cold.

I wasn’t sure I could raise the banner of “courage” over the next year, but I was willing to surrender. If God wanted me to be brave then He would need to be the one to provide supernatural courage. All I could offer was a “yes.” That single yes, on the brink of a new year has carried me not only through 2023, but an incredibly difficult 2024. Yet, every time there was another door to walk through, I chose to say yes - again, and again, and again.

No matter how afraid I have been, or how many tears shed, I have declared over myself “courage” and then agreed to step forward. This blog, and every part of my “public” existence, are all connected to a single word from two years ago. I have reluctantly but obediently followed His call and He has been faithful. Much still remains unresolved and uncertain, but I have learned to depend on Him one day at a time and expect nothing more. I have learned a depth of surrender I never before understood. Through it all, I have learned trust. I have gained faith. I have received love and healing in ways I never thought possible. What began as my first “Word of the Year” has now been solidified as a foundation beneath my feet. While I may always lack the ability to be courageous in my own strength (just ask anyone who has watched me grow up), it is upon Christ the solid rock I stand!

Regardless of where you find yourself this new year, I pray God grants you peace and provision. May the love of our Lord reign in your heart this year as He gently leads you onward. I am with you, friend. Hold on to hope! We can do it – Just One More Chapter!

What’s yours? Do you have a word of the year or take time to consider an overarching theme or set of resolutions at the turn of the year? If so, what is your word or theme for 2025?

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