As we rang in the new year and I looked at social media I noticed a common theme of hatred for 2016 and I was disheartened. We spend so much time thinking next year will be our year or feeling like everything about our year was awful but we often forget that next year will have celebrations and trials of its own. We should be focusing on the present moment as if it were our last day and stop thinking that the next year will be better. The grass isn't greener on the other side, and I promise you it has to be watered.

I remember welcoming 2016 with excitement and curiosity for what the year would bring. I had a boyfriend, I was headed for a month-long missions trip and life appeared to be great. Instead, 2016 will be remembered as the hardest year of my life but I came out stronger and braver. I'm not wishing 2016 never happened, but instead, I am reflecting on its impact in my life and appreciating the good, the bad and the ugly. I've faced adversity head on and I have watched those I love do the same but we have more grace and thankfulness than every before.

Winter

I had the privilege of spending the majority of January, in Paraguay, alongside a missions team rooted in Christ, but truthfully I wasn't always excited to be there. I had a root canal fall out which caused constant pain and I was still feeling the remnants of mono yet my team made those temporary pains disappear. We drove on a bus without air conditioning in 100-degree heat often switching seats for who would be sitting in back closest to the engine but still managed to play card games and spend time with each other.

Despite those sometimes frustrating moments, I was able to learn from my leaders and team like never before. Some of them taught me to listen well and ask questions with the same gentleness, some taught me how to try my Spanish even though it was painfully rough and others taught me how to be present and let the things back home be what they were. I saw how little control I had over situations as I had to learn what it meant to go-with-the-flow. I saw a missionary family welcome us as if we were family and we learned of the sacrifices they made to serve the Lord. I am thankful for that trip and that team. I didn't know it at the time but it was preparing me for what was coming.

Spring

March came around and my brother was in a firearm accident. I had just come from Paraguay where I was the weakest link in terms of flexibility but I was learning to be okay when life called an audible--or in our case, a 180-degree shift. In the mix of this, I was dealing with an unexpected breakup and severe concussion which magnified my anger and exhausted my aching heart. I often wondered if I'd get another piece of bad news because it felt like I was taking so many steps backward and I couldn't run from the pain.

Shortly after we learned that Conner would have an extended hospital stay, I withdrew from school to be with him. I often say you won't know the choices you'd make in a tough situation until you're in it, but I don't regret leaving to be with Conner. I spent countless nights counting his breaths and talking to him all hours of the night but they are some of my favorite memories now. Those moments were when my heart would take time to heal. I remember the joy on his face when his friends and teammates would visit and I'm thankful I got to witness those happy moments during a temporary season of pain and sadness that often plagued him. There was nothing quite like seeing him back with his boys making jokes and I'm sure they'll tell you the same.

Summer

Things were getting better but they still felt impossible. I was exhausted, often times unaware of things happening around me but Conner was home at this point so I made it my personal mission to meet his every need. I'd work in the day and spend my evenings with him. I wasn't the injured one but as I watched his desire and need to be with people I understood why it was so important. When you're alone you began to think and your mind wanders. He was protecting himself from a wandering mind so he could remain strong for those around him. I admire that because I will never know what he's been through but I can only imagine.

The new normal was a harsh reality filled with aggravating days, sleepless nights and constant frustration because we couldn't fix things or make Conner better immediately. Despite those days, Conner gave us all courage to lay our head down at night and remember joy comes in the morning. Toward the end of our summer, we celebrated my 21st birthday in NYC and my favorite part was toasting to more time with my brother. Conner was driving his car again when just 3 months before that he couldn't be outside because the slightest breeze would send his nerves all over the place. Those are the moments we celebrate with joy. Our lives were slowly slipping into our old rhythm and it felt good.

Fall

I remember packing up my things to return to school at the end of August. I was eager to return to our "normal" life but as I imagined different versions of our re-entry back to a place that was very routine to us I became nervous, uneasy and frustrated. Every version I saw and many I couldn't have thought up all played out when I saw people for the first time since quietly packing up my brother and I's belongings and disappearing back in March. There were worried faces, awkward glances, and nervous conversations. I often found myself angry--wondering why people couldn't just break the awkwardness and ask us what they wanted to know. As the weeks went on, I learned that sometimes we had to be the ones breaking the ice with people. I gave depth in my responses when people asked how I was and I encouraged them to lean in and be there for Conner even if it meant pushing just a little bit. I shared bits and pieces of the story when I had the energy because if I didn't, I was giving ground to Satan. God saved Conner for a BIG reason and I wanted to rejoice in that.

We endured some tough days and some frustrating moments but we always knew we had one another to lean on. I remember having a night filled with tears and flashbacks and all I could do was remind myself that Conner went through all of it and is defying every odd placed in front of him with so much love and patience. It is comforting to know your best friend is in your corner on those sleepless nights or days that seem like they'll never end. It's special to know the depths of the journey we were on because it gave us strength to fight the good fight. Conner and I finished out a trying semester with thankfulness--to be at a place where professors and faculty had true empathy for the situation. We saw that they wanted was be a part of the bigger picture--giving Conner normalcy and giving God the glory.

My Lessons Learned

Over the course of a year, I've watched my brother change, grow and overcome but I've also watched my family face adversity with humility, love and a whole lot of prayer. I remember sitting on the porch in Loma Plata, Paraguay talking with a friend and telling them that I hoped our month in Paraguay restored my joy and grace in the smallest things. Two months later, as I sat on the cold floor of a hospital room putting on Conner's velcro shoes, I celebrated the fact that I could still do that with tears streaming down my face. Paraguay prepared me for always having a little more energy than I thought I had, having five more minutes to just be with people and how to truly celebrate those little victories with child-like joy.

I learned what it looked like to overcome adversity every single morning my brother would be put in his wheelchair and taken to physical therapy. As the days went on, he began walking himself to therapy. I learned what it means to love unconditionally by my parents being at the hospital day and night doing anything and everything to make my brother comfortable. I saw what it mean to fight relentlessly every time my brother would be in so much pain during therapy but knew he had to do it to get better. I'll never stop saying how proud I am to be his sister because he's the reason I'm a better version of myself.This wasn't the year I had planned but God saw a space for healing and renewed joy. I am grateful to have experienced those trials with people who would pray for me when I had no idea what I needed and loved us well in the process.

If you're thankful that 2016 is over, I urge you to look back and piece together your year to find those lessons learned. They won't always be pretty or wrapped in a bow. They'll be the painful memories, brutal flashbacks and sleepless nights. They'll hurt, they'll change you and they'll make you appreciate it all.