The day after I took this photo, I awoke to a crash from the kitchen and a sad-faced husband who nodded when I asked, “Did you just break something I love?”

Sometimes my focus becomes incredibly narrow and negative, and the morning of the shattered bird mug preceded a number of days in which that was the case. And ugly days they were, too: overlooking blessings, and balking and moaning about insignificant problems, and staring at my laundry for hours before actually doing it kind of days.

I’m sure you don’t ever have days like that.

(Please tell me you sometimes have days like that.)

I always wonder what precipitates these ugly moods. I’ve been doing a lot of learning and thinking about nutrition lately (expect more on that topic in the future), and I can’t help but think that my rule-breaking dips into refined sugars over the past weeks have had something to do with it—but whatever the cause, no-good rotten mood days are a forceful reminder that I am Very Human.

On the day I took that photo of the bird mugs, we had a special little visitor.

His name is Ronan, and Gil and I had great fun watching him for a few hours while his mama took a much deserved break.

Ronan was such a champ; he never fussed a bit, even though he didn’t know us very well, and he was so curious about everything in our house. (Which is apparently not very “child-proof”; who knew our spice jars were at perfect baby-grabbing height?) And not to put too much weight on nutrition (if that is possible), but Ronan’s mom Sara is on a very similar nutritional wavelength to ours, and I couldn’t help wondering if that had something to do with Ronan’s great behavior. OR he could just be a good-natured little dude. Or maybe a little of both.

(Ronan and Gil were buds. I’m starting to amass quite a collection of photos of my husband with other people’s babies.)

In any case, whether because I was over-sugared or just because I’m a broken human being, our delightful visit with Ronan did not keep me from throwing myself headlong into a hissy fit for the next few days. And that’s life. It is never as idyllic as photos of coffee mugs with steam coiling out of them make it look like it should be. And the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, even things as small and silly as one of your favorite bird mugs. And good days will usually follow bad ones. And so they have.

(On a related note: I can’t help but feel slightly convicted by this video. I’m a product of my times, apparently, but I do love designs with birds on them.)

Here we are, already at the end of a year which feels as if it has hardly begun. Thank you all very much for your support and encouragement this year; I’m sorry I have not been as faithful a correspondent as I might have.

Here are twelve images from 2007: each one either carries particular significance for the month it was taken in or is simply a favorite of mine. Enjoy.

JANUARY

FEBRUARY

MARCH

APRIL

MAY

JUNE

JULY

AUGUST

SEPTEMBER

OCTOBER

NOVEMBER

DECEMBER

2007 has been a great, full, and character-building year for me; I wish the same for you and yours in 2008. Happy new year.

It seems that 2006 has come and gone before I could even call out its name and scream “Wait! Hang on a second!” The entire year I have felt like I was behind—behind in my school, in my writing, in my responsibilities, in my life. I was that kid pushing the merry-go-round who could never quite run fast enough to swing her legs up over the side.

Of course, maybe this is more a characteristic of my life than it is simply this year. Only time will tell.

A lot of “things” have happened this year. I started this blog. I fell in love with photography. I broke up with Elijah. My brother got married and my car got stolen (and recovered). I turned eighteen and started college. But those are only particulars. By looking at them you will only understand my whole year as well as the blind men could understand the whole elephant from feeling its trunk, its legs, and its tusks.

The real character of my 2006 can be found not in individual events, but in the intangible, overriding growth that has taken hold of my life and used every experience, good or bad, as an opportunity to say, “You’re not as great as you think you are. Now you must learn to deal.” And although much of me is screaming and pounding the ground with her fists while being dragged by her ankles toward “maturity,” another smaller, hopefully more important part of me wants more than anything to shed this childishness.

Here in my blog, I have mostly recorded the positive or silly things that have happened to me throughout the year. But 2006 had its share of bumps and bruises that never made their way into this little history book. Heartache, unhappiness, friends and family whose lives as they knew them are over—life packs a punch, a fact of which every day makes me more acutely aware. I suppose this is part of growing up.

I would love to tell you that this year’s events and all of its growth has left me with some kind of beautiful clarity about the nature of the universe and my minuscule place in it. But the truth is that in boarding the train to depart 2006, my bags are packed with much more confusion and many more questions than they were when I arrived. (I’ve heard that Gutenberg will do that to you.)

But my questions are good questions, I think, and the journey to finding good answers is a good one too. Also, I am blessed with a family, a community, a school, and friends who are fellow journeyers.

So long, 2006. You’ve been good, if not always fun. Here’s hoping that 2007 will be a year in which we can all come to terms with ourselves and this crazy world and build character through our experiences, good and bad.

(P.S. Thank you, especially, readers, for being here this year. I hope you have enjoyed reading; without your encouragement I never would have kept writing. You are greatly appreciated. )