Introduction

Well, this is the final Sunday of the year—my last post of 2025.

And if I’m honest, this year has been a hard one.

We shared a beautiful Christmas with our family, filled with love, laughter, and gratitude. But almost immediately after, life picked back up at full speed. We’ve spent the days since Christmas packing up parts of my dad’s house—preparing it to be sold as we continue the long, emotional process of settling his estate after his passing earlier this summer.

Being together again in his house stirred a lot of memories.

We mourned his absence.
We felt the weight of loss.
And at the same time, we reminisced—fondly and gratefully—about Christmases past. Moments that shaped us. Traditions that mattered. Love that endured, even when life was messy.

This final gathering in this space reinforced something that’s been settling deeply in my heart all year, but especially since my dad’s passing:

Faith, family, and friends matter more than anything else.

Not careers.
Not achievements.
Not the endless list of things that clamor for our attention.

Those relationships—anchored in love—are what last.

2025 has been difficult. There’s no way around that. And even as the calendar turns, there is still unfinished work ahead—paperwork, decisions, loose ends that don’t resolve themselves overnight.

But despite all of that, I find myself leaning toward optimism.

A new year is coming.
A fresh chapter is opening.
And hope springs eternal.

Throughout this Advent season, I’ve found deep comfort in returning again and again to the gifts God offers so freely: hope, peace, joy, and love. They’ve steadied me when grief felt heavy. They’ve reminded me that even when life feels uncertain, God is not.

As I step into the new year, I don’t do so with all the answers.
I don’t do so with everything neatly resolved.
But I do step forward with confidence—not in myself, but in God’s faithfulness.

I intend to carry His comfort with me.
To walk closely with Him.
To continue prioritizing what truly matters.
And to trust that He will meet me in whatever lies ahead.

So as this year comes to a close, my prayer—for myself and for you—is simple:

That we would enter the new year grounded in what lasts.
That we would release what no longer needs to define us.
And that we would journey forward, confident that God goes with us.

Hope springs eternal.
The New Year is around the corner, and God is there waiting for us, lighting the way.

A Scripture Anchor for the Year Ahead

As I look toward the coming year, one verse has been settling in my heart as a kind of anchor:

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you;
he will never leave you nor forsake you.
Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.”
— Deuteronomy 31:8 (NIV)

I love this promise because it doesn’t pretend the road ahead will be easy. It doesn’t say everything will make sense or unfold according to our plans.

What it does say is this:

God goes before us.
God walks with us.
God does not abandon us.

That’s enough.

As I step into a new year—with unfinished business, unanswered questions, and quiet hopes—I don’t need certainty. I need His presence. And this verse reminds me that I already have it.

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Reflection for the Week (and the Year Ahead)

As you stand on the threshold of a new year, you might want to spend a little time reflecting on these questions:

• As you look back on this past year, what was most difficult—and where did you sense God’s presence within it?
• What are you carrying into the new year that no longer deserves the weight you’ve been giving it?
• Which relationships—faith, family, or friendships—do you want to prioritize more intentionally?
• What does it look like for you to step into the new year with hope, even if everything isn’t resolved yet?
• If God were gently inviting you to trust Him more deeply in one area of your life this year, what might that be?

You don’t need perfect answers.
You don’t need a polished plan.
You just need a willing heart.

God will take care of the rest.