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January 4, 2017 by by Fiona Mae Alvero

Today, it dawned on me that in just a matter of couple more hours, I’m getting a wish I’ve uttered more than once this year.

“I can’t wait for this year to be over!”

It may seem to have taken longer than it did, but it sure is coming now.

And please, don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for this year. And just like how every year has always seem to manage to top the last one, this year has undoubtedly done the same thing too.

It is the new best year so far.

This year, I’m grateful for all the places God has brought me—literally and figuratively.

I’m thankful for the cities and nations I didn’t expect I’d set foot on, for the platforms I’m humbled to be given a chance to stand on, for being able to connect deeply with people in spite differences in status, language, and culture. Those were amazing.

But then, low key, this year has also been the most painful yet. The kind that makes you wish for it be already over.

This year, besides having places conquered, has been a year of intense and painful growth too. It is a year of limits being tested; of failing hard to a point of wanting to quit and give up, something I haven’t considered to do in a long time. It is a year of having to learn to walk away in moments when all I knew to do then was to say yes and stay. A year of being broken more than I thought my heart and soul could handle.

And though many months ago I was wishing for this year to be over, it’s crazy that when I look back at it from where I stand today, I could say in most certainly it was still good. And even so, tell you now that it was those painful moments of breaking that made it beautiful.

And why so?

I once heard someone try to describe in words the way she felt when she first heard a song very dear to her heart. What she said hasn’t skipped my mind since. 

“It was so beautiful that when I first heard it, it broke my heart and fixed it at the same time.”

Sometimes people say the most rad things. And you’re left wondering in a good way how they’re able to give words to something you don’t have words for.

So yeah, that line. This year falls in the same category, I guess.

It was beautiful that way. Because though it broke me, it also fixed me at the same time.

Or more accurately, He broke me. Only so He could fix me.

He stripped me off of my wants and desires and dreams and plans, so I could have His. He shook what has to be shaken so only the unshakable will remain.

He broke me and fixed me at the same time.

I don’t like it when God breaks me. But then lately, I’m realizing more and more that some of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met are those who’ve allowed God to break them. Maybe because in their breaking, they get to be less of themselves and shine Jesus more.

And now, I could only glance back at this year once more and hope the end result of all the breaking is the same for me. Less of myself, more of Him.

To break and to fix, the painful and the beautiful — those words don’t add up to me before.

But now they do.

Happy New Year. x

12.30.16 3:45pm