I write letters to people. You might even consider letters to be one of my calling cards (ha.) I write letters to share good news with friends. I write letters to tell people I miss them. I write letters to tell people goodbye. I write letters with far-flung postage marks that try to explain the beauty and adventure I find in new places. I write letters to my future self, my future children, and my future grandchildren.
So when I began to think about 2018 and the impact it has had on my life, I decided to write a letter. Contemplative and introspective? Absolutely. Inspiring? Maybe.
Is it just me, or does it feel like we just met? We’ve gotten so close over the past 12 months, it doesn’t seem as though our time together should be ending already.
When you were right around the corner I was filled with such a sense of excitement and anticipation. So many wonderful things were to be experienced, learned, and discovered this year. And I like to think I entered each new phase of this year with that same sense of wonder.
So many wonderful things were to be experienced, learned, and discovered this year.
You brought me my first international trip to Iceland — a land of stark landscapes, bitterly cold oceans, and fuzzy horses. You brought trips back to Pennsylvania and new journeys to Wyoming and California. You showed me snowy back roads, azure blue oceans, and sequoia trees so tall they seemed to serve as obstacles for the clouds to shapeshift around.
But, 2018, you also brought challenges and heartache and tears. Soon after the shine wore off and the tinsel had been thrown away, you brought an ending to a dream job that I thought would have been a part of my story for years to come.
Through that transition you brought renewed beauty and joy into my life. You forced me to consider new opportunities, and welcomed unimaginable blessings into my life. You gave me a new community at a new job that has allowed me to cultivate a new passion that I had never previously considered (crafting dream mountain weddings for new friends? Yes please.)
You forced me to consider new opportunities, and welcomed unimaginable blessings into my life.
I became a part of a new camp family in 2018. What started as a one-time volunteer project slowly turned into a full-time position serving military families in the mountains of Colorado. I’m learning how to minister to people more effectively, form stronger bonds with co-workers, and develop my own style of leadership and management.
You have taught me that people are an organization’s greatest asset — neglecting them is irresponsible and ill-advised. You have shown me that God’s provision shows up in unexpected ways. You have encouraged me to embrace the uncertainty of a new chapter in life. I have learned to embrace the difficult conversations and always share with people the things I admire about them.
As you come to end, I can’t help but reflect and admire all of the ups and downs that I’ve traversed over the past year. I’m sad to see you go, but I look forward to meeting your friend, 2019. Maybe we’ll stay in touch through the pages of my journals, or maybe I’ll just remember you fondly when I tell my grandchildren about you someday.
Either way, I’m glad we met.