Best year of my life

The other day my dad said, “This has been the best year of my life.”

There was probably some context for this, but I can’t remember what it was. And it’s not really that important. Context or not, that sentiment is, to put it mildly, crazy.

It’s crazy that this year of catastrophe and trauma, hospital stays and emergency room visits, suffering, pain, fear, (insert negative emotion here) is the same as my dad’s best year of his life. His most memorable. His happiest. His all around best.

And yet, I feel it too. This year has been the shittiest year of my life (and yes, I know my life is only 26 years long, but I’m pretty much hoping it doesn’t get worse than this), and it’s also been the sweetest. It’s been the busiest, and it’s been the year I’ve been the most present. It’s been the most emotional, and it’s been the most true.

This year, or really year and three-ish months, has been the best year of my life. I’ve spent beautiful times with my family. I’ve felt the love and support of my friends. I’ve learned so much about myself and about Jesus. And I’ve had lots and lots of fun!

So, if my dad’s crazy, I guess I am too.

This has been the best year of my life. And you can quote me on that.