What’s in a year?

12 months. 52 weeks. 365 days. 8,760 hours. 525,600 minutes. 31,536,000 seconds.

Yes, technically, intellectually, this is what makes up a year. But, for most, a year is made up of far more then time. There are happy times; some joyful times; some amazing, great times; some sad times; some hard times; some times you wish you can forget or change.

As I’m typing this, God is putting a passage onto the forefront of my mind:

For everything there is a season, and a time for every mater under heaven;
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for a war, and a time for peace.

In life, there are seasons for everything. A year ago today, life happened. (To see my thoughts, check out these three postings: http://thereforethecross.tumblr.com/post/921575653/god-stands-beautifully-supreme; http://thereforethecross.tumblr.com/post/922853886/it-is-finished; http://thereforethecross.tumblr.com/post/923668248/jesus-understands)

As I meditate on the situation, “life happened” may just be the best way to sum it up. The past 365 days have been hard. This one situation has been a constant issue. It has taught me and stretched me in ways I couldn’t imagine. It has made me wrestle. It has made me forgive. It has made me repent. It has left me questioning.

Unexpected is the theme.

For a year, I’ve been holding onto it. Keeping it tight to my chest - only telling those who deserve to know; those who can help; those who I trust. Because, deep down, I still deeply love this person. Liking and loving can be extremely at odds with each other sometimes.

I want his best. 

I want their best.

A full, Welch nephew is coming.

His story should have been a story to tell and celebrate.

Instead, they chose a different story. They chose secrecy over celebration. Seclusion over community. Distrust over invitation. In the process, they left many wounds and casualties along the way.

One year later, I still miss him - kind of. I miss the ideal person I thought he could or should be. I wanted an older brother - I didn’t want to be the older brother. One I could go to, do life with, seek advice and know we had each other’s back.

Now, I know, my truest bonds are not with men who share my blood or surname. Rather, they are men who share passions, ministry, life and community with me. We walk through hard times. We laugh through crazy times. We rejoice in great times. We pray always. We always grow deeper because life is meant for sanctification.

I remember a year ago. I will never forget. But, I do forgive. I still do love him.