2024 was a year of broken Hallelujahs. Catching one breath at a time as we make it to the finish line.
This year taught us to find laughter in the chaos, defiance in the face of despair, and hope clinging to the edges of uncertainty. This was a snapshot of survival.
This year was one we barely stumbled through. A year where we felt hopeless more often than not. When nothing made sense, and understanding was a distant luxury. We stood paralyzed by fears we couldn’t name, and battles we didn’t choose. It was the year of “endure and enjoy” but sometimes, the enduring outweighed the enjoying.
And yet, through the haze of tears, and the silence of unanswered questions, one truth stood tall: Heavenly Father was with us. Not in the loud, sweeping miracles we often crave, but in quiet, persistent whispers that refused to let us fall.
One time, my husband Jadon and I were sitting around the kitchen table, staring at the bills that fanned out like unanswered questions. The numbers didn’t add up, no matter how many times we ran through them.
Rent was due, groceries were running low, and the kids had a school project that needed supplies. Our pockets were dry, and so were our spirits.
The only thing we could afford was a whispered prayer, a soft plea for grace, for relief, for something to get us through. So we knelt down, and uttered a humble prayer in surrender.
Then we went about our day, holding onto that prayer like a fragile lifeline. That afternoon came a sudden email. It wasn’t flashy or grand. Just a simple notification that the long-forgotten return on an investment had been deposited directly into our bank account.
We stared at the computer screen in disbelief, refreshing the page as if the numbers might disappear. But they didn’t. The deposit was real, and it was just enough to cover everything pressing.
The timing was too perfect to have been a coincidence. It was a quiet miracle, sent through the ordinary means of a bank transfer. And in that surreal moment, we realized that grace doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes, it arrives in the Inbox, precisely when you need it most.
2024 was, for us, a year of broken Hallelujahs. Praise offered through clenched teeth and shattered hearts. It wasn’t pretty, but it was real.
And maybe that’s the lesson we were meant to learn: that brokenness doesn’t disqualify us from grace; if anything, it brings us closer to it.
So, as we just bid farewell to 2024, we stand as proof that survival doesn’t always look triumphant. Sometimes, it’s messy, raw, and barely held together. But it’s survival nonetheless.
And in the wreckage of what we couldn’t control, we find the seeds of what comes next, a quiet, resilient hallelujah just waiting to bloom.
So here’s to 2025, to a better year where we carry the lessons of faith and surrender that we learned in 2024. If there’s one thing that 2024 had taught us, it’s that miracles may not always look the way we expect, but they will always come when we trust in grace.
And I’m grateful because we had the best view to witness such miracles, and even better because we did it as a family, and still doing it with the same people this 2025. Happy New Year, folks!
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