I fell back in love with my husband.
I didn’t even realize how comfortable we had become—good friends with benefits, moving through life side by side but not fully seeing each other. Recently, I looked into his eyes and realized how deeply I love him. I am grateful. I see the man he is becoming, and I am proud of him. I recognize that God has blessed us with a good life. With the kids getting older, we’ve been able to spend more time together, and life feels like it’s slowing down some.
I became hyper-obsessed with having a clean, well-managed house.
Maybe I was trying to prove something. Maybe I was trying to fix deeper issues of self-worth and insecurity. I’m not entirely sure. What I do know is that my house has never been cleaner. It feels good—but it doesn’t last. I get grumpy when the kids leave trash on the floor or stuff chip bags into the couch. I’m learning that my house doesn’t define me. I have to be okay with the mess, because these years with kids at home are short, and I don’t want to trade them for perfection.
I got tired of being constantly reminded that I am human.
I’ve lost patience for people who don’t want me around and assume the worst of me. I still love them. I still treat them with kindness. But I no longer stay connected. I’m learning to let go—and learning to be okay with myself and my mistakes.
I tried to be perfect.
That didn’t go well.
I moved through the last few years of life feeling sleepy.
My mental health is tired, and I want to wake back up.
I let go of extra work—photography stress and side projects that were draining me.
I read my Bible.
I read a few books.
I’m trying to learn how to be better at life.
I tried to stay on top of middle school with Josh.
Ember and Asher have worked hard together in their classes and stayed where they should be. They are thriving. And in all the time spent with the others, I let Maisie’s work fall a little behind—only to watch in wonder as she taught herself and somehow stayed caught up anyway. She is motivated and confident.
I learned a little Latin while teaching at co-op.
It reminded me that I can still learn and grow too.
I realized how much anxiety and worry I carry about life—things I need to surrender.
We had a very busy Christmas, trying to do all the Christmas things—seeing the lights, going to concerts, making memories. I was trying to make life happy for the kids and trying to keep myself from slipping into the seasonal depression I usually feel. Without the family that once surrounded us, it felt better to pour into our kids and make the season special for them. I filled the space with joy so my mind wouldn’t dwell on the grief of what we’ve lost.
We went to kids’ church camp this summer, and I loved it—even though I was hot, sweaty, and exhausted. Mid-July is a perfect time to get barely any sleep on cabin beds and spend all day outdoors doing activities. Still, it was worth it to have that extra time with the kids. They’re growing up, and I won’t be able to go forever. That week might have been the last time all of us got to go together. Josh and Ember both want to go to teen camp next year. Why do they grow so fast?
We planned so many events and activities for the youth group, and so many members of our church family and leadership showed up to help. That made me proud of our church.
I tried to be more than I am and felt like it didn’t really matter.
I can’t change people.
I can’t force them to show up.
I can’t do anything apart from God’s will.
I realized I like being in charge of certain things.
I enjoyed planning and decorating events.
I loved creating art and branding for the church.
I enjoyed the administrative side of ministry and remodeling.
I planned staff meetings and actually felt excited about them.
I found meaning in spreadsheets… who even am I?
I watched my firstborn grow taller than me—proud and sad all at once.
We entered our teenage parenting era.
I decided I don’t want any more babies—but I still love holding them.
Some people make you feel guilty for not having a bigger family. Others make you feel guilty for having “too many” kids. You can’t please everyone. I found contentment in what we have. It feels complete.
My youngest is seven, and I’m watching them all become more independent. Backing away is hard—but watching them take on the world is beautiful. Even in the fighting and bickering, I see problem-solving and growth. It’s hard, but it’s good. I’m trusting God with who they are becoming.
I realized I don’t know what I’m doing in life.
I don’t know God’s plans.
I don’t have control—and I’m tired of pretending I do.
I felt guilty when I wasn’t busy.
I took on more than I should have.
I’m learning to say no and to look toward a future with more rest and less stress.
I am tired.
I am thankful.
I am terrified.
I keep going because life is worth it.
I felt distant from God more than once.
Still, I worked at trusting Him—returning to prayer and Scripture. I watched Him answer prayers, even when the answers came differently than I asked. That hurt. It stretched my faith. But I know He answers. My faith is strong, even in my weakness.
I discovered I don’t have the answers.
I’m not as smart as I thought.
I’m just a human with a big heart—and it hurts to see pain I can’t fix.
So I’m learning to pray.
To release.
To trust.
It’s a process.
I lost my desire to write.
It felt forced and heavy, like the mental energy wasn’t worth it anymore. Writing had begun to define me, and I had built an identity around it. Without a title, I wondered who I even was. Maybe I wanted to be a writer because it sounded important.
But I still love poetry.
It feels natural—like my thoughts turning into music and dancing out of me. I don’t know that I want to be a professional writer anymore. Sometimes I don’t feel like my voice matters much—but I trust God may use it in ways I can’t see. So I’ll keep writing and posting. And even if only I read it, maybe that’s enough.
I’m looking forward to the new year.
I don’t have resolutions, but I do feel optimistic. My word for next year is endurance—continuing on, trusting God, and asking Him to help me grow healthier spiritually, physically, and mentally.
Happy New Year!