I began 2014 with high hopes. I was certain God gave me “Jubilee” as my One Word for the year. It wasn’t a word I wanted. It was undeniably repeatedly put into my heart and spirit. So I dared to believe. I believed “jubilee” meant music, and possibly restoration, for me. And for the first six months of the year, that seemed to be a possibility.

But time after time, every sweet and joyful moment was met with bitterness and circumstances beyond my control, and it was finally clear that neither music nor restoration would take place this year. With only a few weeks remaining in 2014, I can’t believe there will be a 30-day miracle that could make up for the last six months of silence.

I’ve spent the past few weeks cleaning my house like a mad woman, running miles until I hurt, and binging on Netflix. It’s an effective way to numb my mind and heart, to escape the constant questions about faith, to forget about broken and abandoned dreams.

With the arrival of Advent, I realize I’m no longer waiting. No longer waiting for a miracle. No longer waiting for promises to be kept. I’ve quit waiting, and have planted myself firmly in the present, focusing only on what I can see. I’m forced to rest. Like a toddler weary of the fight, I’ve surrendered to another’s iron will.

I tried to hold on to what little faith was left. I believed there was a purpose for the giving and taking away. I hoped for restoration. But there’s only been defeat. So I’ve let go. I’ve stopped believing. I’ve abandoned hope.

I won’t choose a new One Word for 2015. “Jubliee” was a heartbreaking tease. Trust is a risk I won’t take again.

God gives and takes away. Indeed.

Even so, I’m supposed to say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord. He is good and faithful.” So my mouth utters the words with intention, but my heart wonders and doubts.

The cleaning, the running, the Netflix binging — they comfort me.