It's the last day of 2025. I rarely sit and reflect in the way I used to. My shelves are lined with ink stained journals and there was a long season of blogging where my words poured out onto the virtual screen sharing my innermost thoughts. I haven't made space for intentional written reflection, probably because of insecurity or fear.
2025 was all the things. I felt really truly grounded in many ways. I had strict limits on the news and social media and that contributed to an overall less frantic mind. Turns out you can check the news once a week and almost nothing changes. The world is still on fire and the goodness is still persistently present. This year I began to attempt to intentionally practice the Sabbath. From Friday at sundown to Saturday sundown, I could only do things that brought me joy. The first two weeks I felt unsettled. What brings me joy? What do I do if I am not working or organizing or cleaning or pretending I carry the weight of the world? It felt unsettling to be at rest. I tried a bubble bath and a massage chair and I played in the dirt. I didn't make it happen every week, but at least internally, I knew I wanted to. Progress.
Work was really great this year. I still have regular melt downs about how I can't hack it. I get myself to a place where I just want to run away and have weekends free and not feel like I have to say something meaningful every week, but then, someone hugs me at a funeral and someone shares their faith story with me and I hear children sing about Jesus and teenagers lead devotions and it all comes flooding back. The countless years of singing around campfires and feeling that overwhelming soul drenching presence of the spirit in every part of my body and then I know again I can never leave it. I'll keep working on balance. And asking for help. Neither of which is my strong suit.
And this year, I had so many incredible humans who loved me and supported me and challenged me to do better and be better. I would have taken this as judgment in the past, but to know that people really want you to grow and succeed and that sometimes it is really hard to change and that it hurts to admit you are clueless and that you can't grow into who you were meant to be all by yourself. But these folks just kept showing up and sticking with me through all of my mistakes and blunders. I'm so insanely grateful and so lucky.
My family continues to be my true joy. I am so in love with my husband. I can't stand it when people bash their spouse. I know that every marriage is hard, but I wake up every day and look over at this gentle soul that I am married to and I literally have a tear in my eye every day. He is my safe space. And my kids.. they are so unique and incredible. My son takes after my husband and is gentle and kind and strong. My daughter is truly herself and follows no one, but occasionally, I can hear her lead effortlessly and offer the most wise advice and manage a room with confidence and I grin quietly at her strength and stamina. She works hard and feels deeply and she is a beautiful force to be reckoned with.
But none of that really matters to me as much as when they both crawl into bed with me and call me mama. I always fear that those days will come to an end and maybe they will, but I will never get enough of them. I want to hear every detail of their lives and their thoughts and I want to know if their socks hurt or if their heart hurts or if I screwed up, so I can do better next time.
I started back in my doctoral program this year and I absolutely love it. I love to learn and I love to grow. I have read thousands of pages of literature about leading change in the church and in my own life and in the world and it is so exciting and fulfilling to me. I'm about half way through a three year program and I just love it.
I continue to struggle with all kinds of demons. I wrestle with insecurity in almost every area. I don't trust myself and I fear rejection. Maybe I always will.
But, I am learning to love my life instead of always longing for a different one. I love my early mornings of quiet prayer and coffee. I love the pounding of my feet on the treadmill and lifting heavy weights. I love my garden and wildflowers. I love sitting on the back porch with Paul naming the birds and taking a loop around the property checking on the weeping willow and the fig tree. I love that we had a mesmerizing screech owl take residence in our yard this year and that we got to see the tiny little babies. Nature is amazing. I love our hot tub and our friends. I love the sunrise on early morning drives to church. I love that a beautiful little fawn walked right up to me this year trying to see if the world was safe enough for him to cross the boundaries between wild and domesticated. Same, little one. Same.
For the first time in many years, I realized it was okay to be a joyful person. There were several years when joy was being attacked as toxic and fake and, I don't know, it felt like I couldn't have joy if people were struggling and so I started to hide it and squash it and I think it really harmed me to not be myself. I love my life and I love people and I want to freely enjoy what I have been given and it doesn't make me insensitive or uncaring to the trauma of the world if I'm happy.
I think one of the greatest parts of this year was Jesus. Again, in order to always be appropriate or to be liked or to fit in or WHATEVER, I have always kept my faith in the "acceptable" range. Like there was a pH test for normal Christians and I HAD to say at a 7 because I would be too apathetic or too Luke warm or too Crazy Christian or something, but seriously. No matter whether you think he walked on water or rose from the dead (which I do.. honestly most people have seen some kind of miracles in their lives..), it doesn't really matter. The way he lived is the best way to live. It's SUCH a great standard. Love people. Help the poor. Include the outcast. Stop being selfish. Realize that there is more to life than your own small sphere. Be humble. Live simply. I could go on and on. I have been ridiculed and sidelined my whole life for my faith. My kids didn't get invited to Polar Express parties so we don't ruin anyone else's fun and I was definitely the outcast at the cousin table. People literally avoid saying certain words around me or recoil when they find out I'm a pastor, but you know what, it is AWESOME to want to love people even when they are jerks. It is great to have accountability when you are being an idiot and it is so freeing to not be bound to the rules of this world. I can give my money away and I can love queer people and I can believe that immigrants shouldn't be abducted and put in camps. And I can believe all of this because I have a standard of belief and behavior that isn't based on any administration or human authority. I will always believe that the greatest leaders are humble, willing to admit their flaws, that they are faithful to their spouses, that they forgive others to the best of their ability and they do their very best to lift others up, especially their enemies.
And so, this year has been a good one. A hard year of learning, but a good one. I'm going to hold on to the redwood trees of Yosemite and the breathtaking sunrises at the Outer Banks and I'm going to soak in the beauty of my own back yard and revel in the friends that intentionally make me a part of their lives in small and large ways and I am going to continue to work my tail off to make the church, or at least the one I have influence over, the most loving and kind hearted and giving place you can find because I want everyone to know what it feels like to be loved well and to live a life that follows how Jesus lived.
I don't know what 2026 will be like. I have some great things planned and some high hopes, but I'm not anxious or afraid. I am anticipating a year full of more friendship, more love, more family and more beautiful moments that take my breath away.
Thank you for loving me and letting me love you.
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