One year ago today, I was at Kalahari Resort in Sandusky with my family and I spent the day reflecting on the past year. I realized that 2019 had been my best year yet. In that year, I got engaged, graduated high school, married the love of my life, and started college. 2019 was also the year I became a widow, but despite the change in my martial status, I knew that 2019 was filled with more happiness than heartache.
When the clock struck midnight one year ago, I wept believing that the best years of my life were in the past. I dreaded entering a new year without my beloved, and I was convinced that 2020 would be the worst year of my life since 2020 would be the year of “firsts” without Brady.
I spent most of this past year trying to predict my grief like I did last New Year’s Eve, and I’ve found that the feelings that come along with a dead husband rarely match my predictions. If 2020 is the worst year of my life, then I will be blessed far more than I deserve. 2020 has not been a terrible year, not even a half-decent one, but a year full of restoration and jubilation.
This year, God has taken the brokenness in my life and has used it all for good. God has faithfully answered my prayers from years ago, and He has walked by my side all this time, never abandoning me once. This year, He has given me the gift of friendship, music, and most of all, joy in the midst of sorrow.
When I expected my life to be terrible, God showed me that He is the author of my story, not my grief. This year obviously brought a lot of emotions as I missed my husband, and yet, the intense pain has felt like drops in a bucket compared to the oceans of joy from the Lord.
When I look back on 2020, my thoughts will not dwell on the COVID-induced lockdowns, divisive election, or even the grief I experienced in the past twelve months. Rather, I will reminisce about how God showed up in 2020 day after day, restoring every moment, and reminding me that because of Jesus, the gift of joy is offered even in the most horrible of circumstances.