Today marks a strange anniversary.
Thirty years ago today my life changed forever.
Thirty years ago was the fall of 1978. I was a senior in college. In the middle of the night, men broke into the house I shared with friends. They wore masks and carried guns. They terrorized us. They robbed us. They raped us.
Thirty years ago everything changed — what I knew about the world and my place in it, my plans for the future, my conviction of who God was — and nothing was ever the same again.
Thirty years is a long time. Long enough to reconstruct a life. To make adaptations. To bring other lives into the world. To reconstruct everything yet again.
Thirty years. I have an overwhelming sense of gratitude today. My life has been a gift I cannot put words around. Full of terror, and full of hope. Full of change, and full of constancy. And more and more, full of nothing but love and love and love, in so many shapes and sizes –love I may not have recognized had I not known despair first.
Thirty years ago my life changed forever.
Perhaps I will see another thirty years on this planet. Imagine that! I await more years eagerly, full of gratitude and hope and curiosity because God is faithful. I reach deep into my life and wrench that statement like a prize, like the medal at the end of the marathon, like a gold ring dropped into a sewer.