When I started high school, one of the most traumatic events of my life occurred. My family fell apart. The foundations of my world crumbled. I was surviving. I was suicidal. Everything in life was wrong, and everything in life hurt.
When I started high school, I went to my first church. I was welcomed by strangers in a way I was never welcomed by my blood relatives.
When I started high school, I began to hope again. I had found resolve to win this war. I was unwilling to allow myself to be defeated by anyone.
When I was in high school, I met Him. His calling was so strong, so loud, that I could do little but weep, uncertain how else to respond. I was led to the altar, and I met Him: my Jesus.
It was December 29, 2002.
I’m in my late twenties now, and I have joy beyond measure and have seen and felt redemption in the most beautifully creative ways. I have been given new family. I have been given new life.
Twelve years I have been with Him. Twelve years I have walked with Him, wandered from Him, found Him waiting for me. Twelve years He has taught me. Twelve years I have been in love.
Happy Anniversary, my beloved Savior, my gracious Jesus, my kind Father, my steadfast Companion. The grace You’ve bestowed, I can never repay, but what little my small life can offer, I will give it all because You first gave all for me.