Four lessons learned in 2009

1. Great community is rare. For the most part, I understood how good I had it. I was living in a beautiful home in Southern California, sharing life with nine other amazing, Godly girls. We invited friends over often, we laughed, we cooked, we danced and got into trouble together. The house was never very clean and my diet always conspicuously heavy on pepperoni quesadillas, but there was harmony that’s rare when you combine 10 people – especially girls – together.

When my lease ran out and I moved into another house temporarily, I realized how lucky I had been. Amid these new roommates, our interests and goals clashed. The new house was a place to sleep, but there was no vision among these roommates of what we could create together. At the Decadox, we built something epic. At this house, living in community was just a way to save money. I decided to move out when I became fed-up with the roommates’ inconsiderate all-night parties and the undersized futon I curled up on each night. At home, community is still hard to find. I believe people who are very different can come together and enrich each others’ lives. But they’ve got to want it.

2. College is wasted on the young, and the busy. I never knew how much I loved college until my last three weeks, which I spend at an off-campus program called Torrey Berkeley. Relatively isolated for a week, a group of 30 honors students read voraciously to the tune of a book a day, then discussed those books in small groups with a few brilliant professors. There were no all-nighters, no deadlines for the school paper, no tests or pep rallies or dorm events to speak of. I learned and retained more than I had in any other class because I was 100 percent focused on this literature.

I understand the busyness of college is part of the experience, but I regret that I missed out on much of the riches of the great books I read at Biola because I was so distracted.

3. God provides. I’m constantly amazed how God blesses me beyond my wildest dreams. Landing an internship with the AP – in my hometown of L.A., no less -- was over-the-top. The student loans I have to pay are very manageable, thanks in part to my dad’s prescient budgeting.

And then the curse of unemployment hit in September. Just a month later, I had a job I loved doing exactly what I love, living with people I love and saving entirely on room and board. That’s extravagant, when I think of California’s dismal unemployment rate and the sorry state of the newspaper business. It’s true – you really can’t outgive God.

4. Life is short. A key downfall of working at a newspaper is the constant reminder of mortality. Reporters know about every car vs. tree, every skid on black ice, every head-on in Nevada County. This fall was hard: In October, a 12-year-old boy accidentally shot himself while deer hunting, and he was a close friend of some of our church members. Then, a drunk driver veered into the wrong lane and killed an innocent man who was driving to home the day before Thanksgiving. He was a church member. Two weeks ago, an incredibly talented, Godly friend died from the swine flu at the age of 26. A week ago, a classmate from Biola was involved in a head-on a few miles away. He survived, but sustained terrible burns. The girl driving him, and the other driver at fault, both died on impact.

I wonder when it’s going to stop. How close to me is tragedy going to come? And sometimes, I live in fear. But it’s also a reminder to never leave “I love yous” unsaid and to never let little things take my focus off an eternal perspective.