An open letter to 2011

May the obligatory, thoughtful year-end blog begin. Enjoy. (Note: I'm writing this while experiencing some great pain in my back, the only way this might make less sense is if I were on lovely drugs to get rid of the pain so bear with me).

Dear 2011,
You started off pretty sucky. Brand lost his job but we never lost our footing. He silently freaked out while I buckled down and prayed for a miracle. In two months we were supposed to be jetting off on our dream vacation in Ireland and we could barely pay for the necessities. But then a month and a half later you answered with a perfect job for Brand: a perfect fit, doing what he loves to do, with room for growth. Just in time for our amazing Irish adventure where I fell in love with the country, the people, the food, the beer, the candy, and the spirit. I thank you for that. You blessed us with a beautiful spring and a hot summer. We found our place in the most perfect small group at church and found new friends.
It was the end of August that you proved to be a year of give and take. My father being diagnosed with a progressive, terminal illness made all the wonderful of 2011 seem so far away. 2011, you broke my heart. You found my kryptonite and used it against me. You messed with my family. But thankfully, someone is more powerful than you 2011. God blessed me with a wonderful family, the ability to live out dreams and adventures, the ability to laugh through the tears, and pray through the silences. He set in motion every person in my life to be a part of what I'm praying will be a miracle that will make 2012 the best year ever. With an army of prayer warriors from my small group, to my friends, to my family, to my dad himself we prayed that the awful that 2011 brought us would go away. After another adventure and lifelong dream of a trip to the Big Apple, that miracle that seemed impossible started to peek at us with a smile on its face. Because 2011, you can't perform miracles. You are just made up of 12 months. You have no power in my life or its outcome. You are just numbers. But God can perform miracles, He is eternal, He is faithful, He is merciful, and He is infinite. That prayer that I prayed the night that my life came tumbling down at my feet, that a miracle would happen, that even if my dad had that awful disease that some day he just wouldn't, no matter how impossible that was, may be coming true. It's hard to be hopeful when you know that you can be right back there on the kitchen floor unable to hold yourself up as you cry your heart out. But God has shown me hope. My dad is feeling impossibly better, doctors are doubting their original diagnosis, and we have no idea what is going on. But we have hope. 2011 you were made of disappointment, fear, adventure, love, intrigue, laughter, hurt, change, growth, and tears. 2012 might bring a lot of the same but I know that God never changes and that no matter what may happen in a year He is with me every step of the way.
So 2011, wipe that smirk off your face. You didn't do a job-well-done, you didn't provide adventure. You were merely just the backdrop of a life that lives and loves because He lived and loved me.

Sincerely,
A hopeful Allison