Brewer? Brewer? Anyone? Anyone?

There were several times this year when I wondered where I had gone.

I certainly kept myself in motion -- boarding 16 airplanes, moving twice, picking up freelance jobs and driving to Phoenix for a bachelor party I had planned in great detail.

But I cried one day, as Alex drove me to departures, telling him I hadn't read in weeks, cross stitched in months. It wasn't simply an issue of I was too busy to do these things that I love, I just wasn't doing them. Looking back, I guess maybe it was active depression (I've never been a sleep-all-day depressed person), but on another level I felt like Bailey Kathleen had just taken a hike somewhere...and become lost along the way. It was like the series finale of Full House when Michelle's memory becomes separate from her body and they each walk around their home trying to reunite.

***

Each December my friend Jill asks me what my word was for the past year. Last year and this, I believe my immediate response was "full." (I've been having some serious tetes-a-tete with myself recently and have decided that the over scheduling has got to stop, for more reasons than one but chiefly for my peace of mind).

As I drove to Panera (where else) this morning, it came to me that maybe my word is something else.

Maybe my word this year is Present.

By my own high standards, I don't think I've been a great friend this year. I haven't really achieved any lofty goals. I lost weight, but that was kind of by accident, not the result of some dedicated gym rat-ness.

But I've been here. I still am here. Through the awful and the calm, I've shown up. Though it feels like I went on a hike, I've really never disappeared. I've discovered that being present doesn't just apply to meditative or euphoric moments -- turns out it might just require that we feel honestly and we honestly feel.

I've also learned that honoring one's emotions needn't mean that we spiral into oblivion -- but that's another discussion for another blog post.

***

This year, I was present in the bong-bong video game sounds of the MRI tube, counting my way up to 10 and back down again, over and over, trying not to move my stockinged feet.

I've been present in the sleepiness that follows lunch breaks spent reading in my warm car, yawning as I scan my badge to come back to work.

I was present in my unstoppable giggles as I almost crashed the moving van and Sam commentated from the passenger seat, "You are making some decisions right now..."

I was present for -- no, literally -- the best refried beans of my life, on Hill Street.

I was present in my stiffening fear, as I went to latimes.com and saw, highlighted in red: Korea launches missile.

I was present in my fury toward the gunman in Vegas, who ripped open a concert with terror and death, who interrupted the inalienable right to get lost, and then found, in music.

I was present later that night, with Kansas City Chiefs fans in a bar. I was present in the beer that was poured from a pitcher, by a person I just met. I was present in recognizing my need to be with some Midwestern homies, at the end of a day that was trying for us all.

I was present in the opening notes of a second line that pronounced my best friend married and happy and where he's meant to be, finally. I gulped down could-be-sobs as I reflected on 14 years of friendship, hamming it up for the camera man in my one-shoulder Michelle Obama dress.

I was present in Loren's hugs after church.

I was present on quiet neighborhood streets, where I creeped the Corolla Coaster along, watching 199,999 miles become 200,000.

I was present in the Delta Airlines baggage check line, while my tushy should have been squished in a seat on the plane.

[Whoops.]

I was present in the guilt of overspending, in the gentle reminder that the past is past, in the belief that I can change.

Though few and far between, I was present on the treadmill, finding just a little bit of that runner's high I used to know so well.

I was present in Happy Hour at my favorite haunt, laughing with my roommates and feeling like myself for the first time in who knows how long.

I was present in the hurt and anger of things unforgiven.

I was present in the words of Annie, training my voice not to catch as I read to a sweet man in a coma, watching his blood pressure drop in response to a message of humor and hope.

I was present in my helpless ache, watching the heart I love the most just shatter.

I'm present now in the water crawling out the corners of my eyes. I'm in public and it keeps coming but I don't care because I am present.

I was present in the force of sugar that filled my Pepsi an hour ago, and the steaming salt of my mac and cheese.

I was present in the discomfort of therapy sessions.

I was present in the writing out of my thoughts, challenging them to excavate truth.

I was present in shared, stifled laughter, as my family prayed over Oscar, and his big brother dunked a handkerchief in the baptismal font.

I was present in unfollowing a celebrity on Instagram, whose life I just can't relate to.

I was present in texting Jill, present in asking Courtney for prayer.

I was present in my Panera booth, writing prayers even when I was afraid I had nothing hopeful to put on the page. I was present for my church family, and they were present for me.

I was present holding a friend as she cried.

I was present in silly chatter with Molly on FaceTime.

I was present in a weekend in the snow, chaperoning some pretty great high schoolers and admiring their respectful, fun nature.

I was present with those same youth on a sandy beach, playing football and huddling up.

I was present in Jennifer Knapp's incredible voice, which has so much to say, sung and written.

I was present in a muted world, with ears so congested I called Alex in a panic.

I was present with thousands of strangers, singing "The Hills are Alive," sipping on a spicy cocktail, enjoying the heck out of myself.

I was present in my shame when a relationship was unexpectedly terminated.

I was present in the best, deepest, most healing breaths of the year, every time I finished a Headspace meditation.

I was present in so many conversations with strangers, conversations I ate up and that made me grin.

I was present in the rocking of our cruise ship, afraid in our cabin as Alex held me and assured me we were fine.

I was present in the donation rooms of Goodwills, shedding things I didn't need, driving away with airy ease.

I was present in the absence of my grandmother, our first year without her.

I was present in the fear of unsettling biopsy results.

I was present in the swaying of my hips at a Jens Lekman show, the jollity of steel drums and bizarre lyrics moving me in rhythm, a giant smile cracking across my face.

I was present in repeating to myself something I needed to believe: that any given emotion doesn't last forever. Mercies are always new.

***

Though I always did well in school, I wasn't always the best at paying attention. I hated getting in trouble for talking out of turn, and even in my last week of college a professor responded to my question: "I already answered that, while you were sleeping over there."

So I don't have the best track record for being...all there.

But I pride myself on refusing to multi-task, in giving great focus to detail, in listening closely and remembering facts about people and their lives.

Though this year has not been short on challenges, I am so grateful for the revelations I've had and the people who have believed in me when I wasn't so sure. I'm so glad that I'm here to go into next year, to be kind to myself, to move forward, to set some goals and go after them.

In 2018, when life calls my name, I'll be ready.

"Bailey Brewer?"

PRESENT.