At the Turning of the Year: What We Carry Forward

There is a quiet that arrives at the end of a year.

Not the hush of everything being finished, but the softer stillness of something listening. The calendar turns, yes, but the soul lingers. It asks different questions than the ones we started with.

What did this year shape in me?
What did it loosen?
What am I still holding, even as the season asks me to open my hands?

As this year draws to a close, I’ve found myself less interested in resolutions and more drawn to remembrance. Not the polished highlight reel, but the honest remembering. The moments that taught me something. The ones that asked me to slow down. The places where grace met me quietly, sometimes without announcement.

The Year Didn’t Go as Planned … and Still, It Was Good

If I’m being honest, this year didn’t unfold the way I imagined when it began. Some doors opened later than expected. Some stayed closed. Some plans softened into something else entirely.

And yet, when I look back with gentler eyes, I can see how much was still at work beneath the surface.

There were lessons in patience.
In tending what is already here.
In trusting that fruit can grow underground long before it shows itself.

Scripture reminds us that “to everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven” (Ecclesiastes 3:1, NKJV). This year may not have been a season of arrival for everyone, but it was very much a season of preparing, rooting, and becoming.

What I’m Choosing to Carry Forward

As I reflect, there are a few things I know I want to take with me into the coming year:

  • A deeper commitment to presence over productivity

  • A softer relationship with time

  • The courage to keep creating, even when the path isn’t fully visible

  • The reminder that rest is not a reward, but a rhythm

I’m also choosing to carry forward gratitude. Not forced, but genuine gratitude for the people who showed up. For the work that continues to evolve. For the small moments that felt like quiet blessings along the way.

What I’m Gently Releasing

Just as important as what we carry is what we lay down.

I’m releasing the pressure to have everything figured out.
The need to explain every step.
The belief that growth must always be loud or fast to be meaningful.

There is a freedom in allowing the year to end without rushing to name the next one. Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is simply trust the turning.

A Moment for You

Before the year slips fully into memory, I invite you to pause for a moment too.

You might reflect on these questions:

  • What did this year teach you about yourself?

  • Where did you notice unexpected grace?

  • What are you ready to release as you step forward?

  • What feels quietly hopeful right now?

You don’t need perfect answers. Just honesty.

Looking Ahead, With an Open Heart

As we step into a new year, my hope for you is not that everything becomes easier, but that you feel more anchored. More connected. More willing to trust the unfolding.

May you enter the next season with curiosity instead of pressure.
With faith instead of fear.
With room for both intention and mystery.

Thank you for being here, for reading, for walking alongside me in this shared space of reflection and becoming. I’m grateful for this community, and I look forward to what we’ll create, explore, and hold together in the year ahead.

“The Lord bless you and keep you;
The Lord make His face shine upon you,
And be gracious to you;
The Lord lift up His countenance upon you,
And give you peace.”

— Numbers 6:24–26 (NKJV)

Thought to Carry

As this year closes, remember this:
you are not behind.
You are becoming.

What feels unfinished may simply be waiting for the right season to bloom. Carry forward what has rooted you, release what has asked too much of you, and trust that the work of becoming continues—even in the quiet.

Where we stand determines what we see, and what we see determines what we do next.”
— Parker J. Palmer

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The Day After the Solstice