to a new year.

Oh, there you are 2016.  For a few weeks now. 

You have patiently waited for me to notice you. Politely allowed me to continue moving waddling and doing and being without so much as glancing your way. No resolutions made for you. No thoughts of how this year might be different from the rest. No skillfully crafted words to welcome you to my days. And yet in your patience and in your waiting, you hold so very much. 

A new little one. 

A new place to call home. 

A new perspective with which to view this life. 

And while I know I am not guaranteed any of it, I should have stopped by now to ponder you. To attempt to prayerfully consider all that you may hold, even more than the “knowns” I believe about you.  All the hope that you bring. All that is new and fresh and clean because of a single change in date. How much a number can affect attitude and heart and perspective.

I have attempted to chock my absence up to moving and illness and pregnancy brain (because it is a thing), but truly it is more of a simple forgetting to be aware. To see the now. Really take it in and let it sink. To the heart and to the mind. To allow what the Lord is doing in each day to really rest on me.

Busyness seems to always bring this forgetfulness. But busyness is always present, so making it my excuse cannot be. It is more. It is something in need of deep change. Something to be intentionally rooted out.

Where is the presence of the Lord and what is he doing with these hours and minutes, even those filled to the brim?

You see, 2015 spilled over with change. Transition. Uncomfort. A bit of heartache and a lot of joy. Changes in address (twice) and title and family. A LOT of stinkin change. At every turn most viewpoints reflect a different image than all that we have known. And even as I type these words I know…I KNOW…that this is my story. It just is. How dare I dwell on change like it is different. 2015 was not new in that regard. The Lord has changed my surroundings and knowns again and again. And all of that “transition” and “uncomfort” and “heartache” and “joy” has ultimately been for so much good. For so much Truth. It is my story. It is our story. All of us. But somehow still, I have to preach and repeat to myself that it is not without purpose. 

So then how do I live knowing all things will change? Knowing the end of this year will not could not look the same as today. Knowing that there is much in store for my good and His purposes around the corner. Most of which I have no inkling about. 

And then there is Hallelujah. 

This word I have heard and sung thousands of times. A word that most of the time passes by without thought. But a word that has bounced in my brain since sitting in a pew in recent Sundays. A chorus that will not leave. 

Because there is praise today. In the busyness. In the norm. In the annoying and dumb. There is acceptance and resolve that the Lord is good. And that this life, no matter how mundane or hurried, is purposed and cherished and meant for something. By the Creator. 

There is hallelujah. 

I know a lot of people who choose a word to speak over their year at the turn of each January 1. I have always thought it was an idea that would be quickly forgotten in my life. That “perseverance” or “boldness” or “humility” would just be another thing I jot in one of these posts or in a journal somewhere and move on from in a week when things get hurried and busy and normal. 

But hallelujah is stuck. Wedged in the crevices of my brain and heart, refusing to allow my every day self to forget about him. This hallelujah remains. 

And so I am praying that this year hallelujah will be ever present. A joyful friend purposed to bring newness to any moment or breath. Someone to take a precious seat in my every day. A valued and unforgettable place at the table of my actions and words and motives. A reminder to offer praise. To bow low. To see each day for what it truly is. 

That there will be hallelujah in the change. Hallelujah in the new. Hallelujah in the good. Hallelujah in the tired. Hallelujah in the uncomfort. Hallelujah in it all. 

Because every piece of this year can be opportunity for drawing near. For coming close. For being present and noticing where He is in it all. 

I listened to a podcast recently (something that has been a beautiful addition in my 2015) where a woman discussed her husband’s infidelity in their marriage. She described the incident and how through an incredibly difficult process the Lord had redeemed their marriage (and quite honestly much more). What struck me most about her story, is the way she tried to put into words the way this experience caused her to become near to the Lord. She spilled out what a purposeful time that was in her life. How the Lord had taken something so very broken and crafted a time of simple nearness to Him. A time that has changed her heart and perspective forever. That nearness to God is necessary. That it is beautiful. That it is astounding in its possibility. That we could even. That the Lord is near and calls us to Himself in it all. 

And it seems like such a simple concept. One that should be mastered at this point in the journey. Or at least known and considered often. And I just haven’t been able to escape that. The notion that 2016 holds this insane possibility for me to draw near to the Lord in it all. That not only can He make good out of this year, but that He will. And I am (we are) able to draw close and hold tight and beg Him for a tiny viewpoint from which to see Him do it. 

Every dang day. 

And then there is hallelujah. 

And because Instagram is genius, if not only for offering yet another way to showcase life, here is an adorable square of memories 2015 offered to the Crumbys. Mostly the good of course, because that is what social media presents. But a fun reminder of days lived well none the less.

baby announcements and arrivals and gifts, trips of celebration and dreams coming true, goodbyes to treasured spaces, new home to fill in the gap, wedded bliss (that's right-I said it), and the sweetest people on the planet

What is so interesting about these moments, captured in pixels and displayed proudly on a silly site, is that when I look back on them I see more than smiling faces and hugs and sweet. I see struggle and  stretching and hard and growth. I see my own humanity. That sounds really deep (and I guess it is), but I see clearly where struggle was present. Where I saw hard and rough edges in myself as I ventured through marriage and friendship and change and family and new. I see down deeper. And that is just good. The best reminder of real life. So don't be fooled by the simplicity of a shining square photo shared on a digital platform (preaching to my own heart here). It is so much more than what it looks like. It is far from perfect. It is harder than appearances reveal. But it is an incredible reminder, when drawn close, that life is real. That each of those pixels represents a myriad of complex feelings and breaths and motives and movements. And that it is all useful. All the shining and all the dull.

Podcast Referenced:

Jamie Ivey's The Happy Hour podcast

Episode 68 with Jami Nato
Here it here or on iTunes.