2015 is gone! I am tempted to say, Praise God, al hamdulilla, good riddance.
In 2015 my husband was sick, I was exhausted and stressed and trying to keep appointments, when I discovered I was not superwoman and got hauled off to the ER myself.
A few months later, expecting to return home the next day at the end of a book tour in N.C., I mishandled my suitcase and broke my back.
In the summer a hacker invaded my email account, sent requests for money to half my friends, created havoc in my address book and days of confusion and frustration.
In the middle of our Christmas holiday, a plugged sewer pipe created a dirty overflow in the basement. The sudden flood threatened carpet, furniture, books and our bank account, not to mention a planned slumber party.
And all that was trivial compared to the daily news.
All year long ISIS tested my resolve to act like a Christian as described and modeled by Jesus.
Refugees inundated Lebanon, Jordan, Turkey and Europe. Beautiful dead children washed up on beaches.
American politicians turned a presidential campaign into a radical rhetoric contest, and a shocking percentage of the public seemed ready to follow the sharpest tongue or the biggest bully.
2015 was the year when I had to accept the reality that my grandchildren will likely go with guns in their hands to the same Middle East which I spent 30 years learning to love. This is my worst nightmare come true and a heartbreak that I cannot even describe.
Goodbye 2015! I don’t want to have to remember any of this again.
On the other hand. . . 2015 was the year that our family took care of us. When age and illness humbled us, our children canceled vacations, talked with doctors, prepared our food, brought us pills and pillows, dried our backs, washed our feet. Maybe it was worth it, developing a rapid heartbeat, breaking my back. We were loved.
After the hacker struck, one clever son and an att technician spent hours on the phone together, speaking languages I don’t understand and restoring order to my messy world.
Then when water gushed through our basement, all we old folks did was stand back and watch two generations of our family suddenly become an efficient crisis management team, investigating, evaluating, making decisions, finding tools, throwing themselves into hard, dirty work and rescuing our house from potential disaster.
And just when I despaired, feeling that the world’s nuts had the sane people outnumbered and nobody listened to Jesus anymore, I got an email from two young men, concerned about the plight of the refugees, disappointed by the attitude in our country, wanting to promote peace in the world, asking if they could interview me and make a video to post on social media.
Now I’m thinking that maybe 2015 was not so bad after all. Without all of these setbacks, I would have missed a couple of important messages that we need now to take us bravely into 2016.
A problem turns out to be an opportunity for a blessing. Without the danger, we wouldn’t be rescued. Without the pain and helplessness, no one would bathe you and tuck you into bed.
A crisis will reveal character. Bullies will boast, the fearful will build walls around themselves. But it turns out that the world still has a lot of good, responsible and capable people, some of them wise beyond their years. We might as well trust them, because they are going to be in charge.
An ancient prophet lamented, “When I want peace, they are for war,” and I find it easy to feel that way. But actually, I have spoken for peace and have heard, from friends and strangers, a resounding “Yes.”
We live in an evil world, but that is not the whole story. There are Palestinians trying to obtain their rights through non-violent means; there are Jews standing with them for justice. There are American men speaking for abused African women. There are white people trying to understand what it is like to be black. There are Christians reaching out to Muslims and Muslims protecting Christians. There are young people already working creatively to promote peace on earth. And in places like Lebanon and Jordan and Georgia, churches are quietly taking care of refugees from Syria and Iraq.
Finally, no matter how bad things are, I believe that God is alive and loves us.
Remembering has lifted me out of my end-of-the-bad-year funk. My resolution is to carry on.
On Monday, January 4, I will announce a new project, a way to promote understanding instead of enmity. Please come back and read my plan. It involves an opportunity for you.