Just over three years ago, our family rolled into Cleveland.

Jake came first in a pretty janky hand-built trailer that almost didn’t make the whole trip, and then the girls and I pulled into the driveway the next day. I remember exhaling deeply as I looked at our house in person for the first time with a seven-month-old and two-year-old in tow. I had no idea then what was in store for us or what a life of medical residency would look like.

Three summers have passed. Now, there’s a five-year-old, a three-year-old, and an almost two-year old in tow, and I’m still exhaling deeply. Only this time, it has more to do with the fact that I just chased Sawyer down for the 18th time to keep him from running into the street or inviting himself into our neighbors’ houses.

Now, each summer since that first of complete upheaval, our family has recognized July 1st as an important American holiday, but this time, it feels especially monumental because, as of today, Jake has officially entered his FINAL YEAR OF RESIDENCY (and I can’t stress enough how necessary the caps-lock is here).

Per usual, I’m feeling reflective. After Jake finished his first year, I wrote about how I learned to navigate his long hours which, hindsight, was fitting because that year I’m pretty sure he worked all the hours. Last summer, after year two, I wrote about how I was finding perspective in the fact that I wasn’t the only one wading through a difficult season and how I was looking forward to sharing my experiences with others in similar places. (In fact, not long after I wrote that post and mused about a hypothetical residency friend, I made a real-life one, and we lived a lot of life together during this past year.)

This year, though, I mostly just want to write about how grateful I am to have lived this residency life, which is funny because I would never sugar coat this stage of our lives as particularly easy or wish to live within its confines for any longer than I have to.

Yet, I feel overwhelmingly thankful for this challenging season because it has revealed things to me about God’s faithfulness and His rich promises that I otherwise don’t think I ever would have learned.

I’ve been thinking about a verse in the book of John a lot lately. It’s found right in the middle of a passage where Jesus is laying down a great metaphor about being a Shepherd who knows and leads each of His sheep by name.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy,” He says. “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”

I love the word choice here. Abundantly: More than is needed. Over sufficient. Plenty.

Christ came so that we could live a life that overflows at the brim, but that’s not even my favorite part. My favorite part is that His words don’t contain any asterisks. There isn’t a list of anyone excluded from experiencing the abundant life. He didn’t say, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly after they finish their medical residency requirements.”

This is how God has shown up for us in the past three years.

Despite the lack of physical support initially, the insanely long working hours, and the various parenting challenges we have waded through, God has shown me that an abundant life is waiting to be lived each day. That I am not, and never will be, excluded from this lavish promise regardless of whatever my circumstances might look like.

Of course life still felt and continues to feel hard sometimes, but that, I think, is just the nature of life and the seasons we go through, isn’t it? “Hard” is relative, after all, as everyone is facing some kind of daily battle (often much more challenging than my own). Unchanging is the fact that Jesus promises a life overflowing. That His redeeming love, eternal hope, and gift of joy are the source that leads to discovering a life of abundance.

Year four is ahead. And, as I stare down this last stretch of residency, I see a lot more change and uncertainty and general upheaval.

But more importantly, I also see the things that will not change.

When it comes down to it, that’s all that really matters. And for that, I am so incredibly grateful.