What to say? In twenty minutes (as of this writing), it will be two-thousand fourteen. I find myself wondering if the marking of a new year is something worthy of such celebration. What are we commemorating, exactly? Is another year come and gone any more exciting than each day that passes us by? Are they more than the changing of a number? I don't suppose I know the answer to that.
Now that my philosophic side is appeased, let's do a review of the year. This should be fun.
In January I...
Released frozen mule manure from a barn stall by way of metal shovel and ax with Evan Bailey. Best.ranch.day.ever.
Learned that fake British accents make Paige Davis want to punch small mice.
In February I...
Designed working flaming arrows for the Men's Retreat.
Participated in a Harlem Shake video with Cheeks.
In March I...
Had an insane and life-changing week working my first expo, going to Barakel, and attending the CCCA conference. This is no-doubt the biggest and most memorable experience of the whole year.
Made maple syrup for the first time.
In April I...
Said goodbye to a friend and co-worker who modeled what it meant to live a fearless and sold-out life for Christ. See you again someday, Ryan.
In May I...
Graduated from the Ascent program at Grace Adventures.
Started working at Barakel again.
In June I...
Made some incredible friends in the summer staff.
Officially became a camp counselor.
In July I...
Had the wonderful opportunity to work on the East Side program team for High School Week.
In September I...
Started working at Eagle Village (and continue to make wonderful friends with some of the girls in the program).
In November I...
Started a new book about being fearless.
In December I...
Got stitches for the first time.
Was in charge of my first Christmas program.
Flew in an airplane for the first time (that I can remember).
Saw a Broadway show for the first time.
So that's pretty much the highlights of my year. It was a wonderful 365 days. Thank you to all of you who made it great, even if you weren't on this list.
