the 2015 listI started it on Christmas Day, feet propped up as I slouched on my front porch, my journal falling across my knees, a drained mug of tea at the foot of my chair: The 2015 List.

Why I do it, year after year? Partially because I’m an airhead. Well. I actually have a decent memory. But even with that—because I think it’s all too human to forget.

My 2015 List is my vigorous attempt to comb through my year, recalling how faithful God was to me this year. It’s cluttered with pencil scrawls of events and good gifts large (“faithfulness in robbery”, reads one line) and relatively small (the list of delicious or wise books I have read, or remembering that time I hauled my mattress outside because I really thought we had bedbugs, and it turns out we didn’t).

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