It’s hard to type that title and not get the theme song from Rent stuck in my head. Wait, ok it’s already stuck. Oh well…
Exactly one year ago this month I graduated with a Masters Degree in Counseling. Over the past twelve months I have: moved houses, started out in private practice, worked in ministry for the first time, logged over 500 hours with clients, taught classes, spoken at trainings, spent some 50+ hours in the Orange County Jail, visited six states, celebrated marriages and new babies, broken a computer, almost lost the Shaturn, been on some dozen or so dates, gained/lost/gained/lost weight, grieved, celebrated, smiled, cried, laughed, and rejoiced. I have experiences more life-changing, heart-breaking, earth-shattering moments over the past year than I ever thought possible over a lifetime. In times of need I have lived off of Ramen noodles and apples and paid for my gas in quarters. In times of plenty I have given gifts and taken some time to myself. I have made new friends, experienced distance from old friends, and continue to be amazing by the people who have come into my life.
It’s been a big year, and it isn’t stopping anytime soon. Over the next two months alone I will switch jobs, move houses, complete teaching my first class in jail, serve jury duty, and (prayerfully) raise more support to sustain my ministry here in Orlando.
I can’t help but think of the past year in moments – little specks of time that add up to huge movements of change. That is sort of what the therapy process is like – small moments that add up to big changes. No one transforms over night. Any process of transformation or reformation is just that – a process. And a process takes time, energy, effort, and patience. Before I moved to Orlando three years ago, those are things I would have said I lacked: time, energy, effort, and patience. Those things just seemed too expensive to me. Little did I know just how much they are worth the cost.
As I give thanks for the year of moments that has passed, I am already looking forward to the moments to come. Not because I think they will be filled with daisies and puppies and rainbows (ok, maybe a puppy???), but because I have now experienced some of the biggest, darkest, and scariest storms life can offer and I am still standing. I walk with a limp (re: Dan Allender), but I am all the stronger for it.
So here’s to the moments. Because they all matter. *Clink*