The Year I Found My Way Back

The best year of my life? A friend asked me that once, and back then, no year stood out. Every year seemed like a fog. They were unclear and directionless. Each year was just a cycle of routines and survival. There was no real growth or change to mark them as special. But today, it’s clear to me that 2024 is by far the best year of my life. It’s the year God began to restore the years the swarming locusts had eaten. I love Joel 2:25: “So I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, The crawling locust, The consuming locust, And the chewing locust…”

I’ve always wondered why God chose locusts for that metaphor. When I looked it up, I learned that locusts are devastating. They can destroy entire crops in no time. They leave nothing but desolation behind. That’s exactly how sin, hardships, and struggles feel. They strip you of everything, leaving you empty and lost. That’s where I was: tired, depressed, and completely drained. But this year, God restored me.

Earlier today, I read something I wrote in 2021, “Mon rapport à la perte”. It was a deeply personal reflection on grief and how I had found coping mechanisms to survive the loss of my mother. Looking back, it feels like it marked the beginning of my healing journey, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. It brought back memories of how detached I felt back then. I almost didn’t recognize that version of myself. I wanted to reach through time, hug her, and say, “It gets better.” That piece of writing feels like it marked the beginning of everything; it was an invisible scream for help. I thought that maybe if I talked about my mother more, I would start to breathe again and come back to life. Instead, I opened up a huge wound that I wasn’t ready to face. It was like ripping off a bandage too soon, exposing all the pain I had buried under years of survival and coping. I thought I was protecting myself, but I was just delaying the healing I desperately needed.

This year taught me that healing requires exactly that, facing the wound. It is not easy. It’s messy, painful, and overwhelming. But it’s worth it. I’ve learned how instinctively we make survival choices when we’re on the edge of our lives. At the time, those choices feel random or desperate, but later, you realize that nothing is random in God’s plan.

Here I am, three years later, with tears in my eyes. It took two years to understand what was happening and one year to build a real relationship with God. I got baptized, died to my flesh, picked up my cross, and followed Christ. It’s the best decision I’ve ever made. In return, He replaced my coping mechanisms with healthy ones. Tore down my walls of self-protection and rebuilt them with His love. He replaced lies with truth, pride with humility, and shame and fear with peace and joy. He even gave me back my ability to cry, something I had lost for so long.

I started this year in my mother country, Rwanda, where it all began. Those four months reconnected me with my roots and healed some wounds. But they also left me emotionally exhausted. I got so caught up in the excitement of being home that I lost sight of the One who sent me there. That experience humbled me. I realized that doing the bare minimum in my faith wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted God’s pure love. I longed for the peace that doesn’t make sense. I desired the real joy you can feel even in the middle of a storm. I prayed for that with tears in February. And let me tell you, be careful what you pray for. If you’re not ready for the ride, it’s better to stay silent.

By March, God said, “Buckle up.” It was one challenge after another, waves of bad news and heartbreak. At times, I felt like giving up. I questioned why a loving God would let me go through so much pain. But in the middle of all that chaos, He gave me peace and joy. Each month felt like six because so much was changing inside me. For example, I realized that I had relied on unhealthy coping mechanisms to numb my pain. God began replacing them with healthier habits. These habits, like prayer and reflection, brought me true peace. One week’s understanding would completely shift by the next. At some point, I even thought I was losing my mind. Faith requires an irrational belief in what you can’t see, and I think that’s what I was learning.

It reminded me of pregnancy, not that I’ve ever experienced it, but it seems similar. You change every week. Your emotions are everywhere. It feels irrational to believe you’ll deliver this huge baby through such a small space. Yet you feel joy and peace when you imagine holding your baby in your arms. Even the pain of childbirth doesn’t stop people from having a second or third child. When God brings you through trials and then rewards you with more than you prayed for, you realize that it was all worth it.

I am so grateful for every moment this year, every tear, every trial, and every answered prayer. I’m grateful for my friends who supported me through this transition (which isn’t over yet). To my non-Christian friends, I know the changes in me might feel a little strange. I’m not the same person I used to be, and I’m more centered on faith now. But I still value our connection and hope we can continue to grow together, even as I walk this new path. Thank you for being patient with me as I’ve gone through this transformation.

A friend once told me I was becoming redundant because I kept talking about God and Jesus. But honestly, it’s like telling a new mother that she talks too much about her baby. The difference is that I hope I never stop. God is at the center of everything in my life. He touches every part of it, and I can’t help but share that.

As 2024 comes to an end, I stand in awe of everything God has done in my life. I am not the same person I was at the start of this year, and I know He’s not finished with me yet. My story is proof that no matter how broken or empty you feel, God’s love is greater.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this. When God restores, He doesn’t just give you back what you lost. He gives you something far better. And I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that the best is yet to come.

Fille d’Epiphaniya