On the Last Day of the Year

A reflection on faith, family, and moving forward with intention

Grateful for what bloomed, trusting what comes next.

I start with myself.

I checked in with my spirit, my faith, and the quiet tests that come with both. Spiritual warfare does not always arrive loudly. Sometimes it shows up as doubt, distraction, or weariness.

I questioned my prayers. Are they enough? Do they count if I pray in bed instead of on my knees? Why do my thoughts wander the moment I try to focus? I thought about my devotion time. Is it enough? What more can I do?

Then I remembered that God meets me in sincerity, not performance.

That realization led me to face the ways I have shrunk myself. The times I made excuses to keep other people comfortable. The moments I shortchanged my own joy. I feel accountable to God to live as who He created me to be. I carry light, and I want to handle it with care.

From there, my thoughts moved to the people closest to me.

I thought about the people in my life and the positions God has placed them in. I asked myself if I honor their roles with respect. If I allow people to be who they are meant to be in my life, without forcing closeness or distance that does not fit. I thought about friendship, what I need from it, and what I give. Some relationships stretched my character and exposed flaws I had to face.

Then my thoughts led me home.

I thought about my husband and whether I am showing up as the helpmate God called me to be. I noticed the steady ways he supports me. I asked myself where I need him most and where he may need more of me. I thought about his love language and his health. I was reminded that love requires attention, not assumption.

Then I thought about my parents.

Their health. The traditions that hold us together. The sacrifices they made for my siblings and me. I could never repay them for being here for me. Their love and support are unconditional, and I do not take them for granted.

I wondered about my mama’s neurotherapy and whether she is hurting more than she lets on. I wondered if my daddy is still reaching for Pepsi, eating chips and dip while watching TV, when he should be in bed. These thoughts may seem small, but they carry weight, because love notices.

As a parent myself, my thoughts lingered there.

I thought about my son. His happiness. His growth. The choices he will make. The light he carries and the calling over his life. I hold hope for him, quietly, in Jesus’ name.

As the middle child and second oldest of four, I thought about my siblings and how I can show up for them with more care. I thought about my nieces and nephews. I thought about the loss of my nephew and how it changed the shape of our family. We are still learning how to hold that grief. I thought about the extended relationships that connect us all.

I thought about the people who care about me when I am not in the room. The ones who protect my name. The ones who tell the truth with love. Then I checked my own heart. Inclusion. Exclusion. The places where I have opened the door and the places where I may have closed it too soon.

Beauty shows up when you’re not looking for it. Tuileries Garden.

My thoughts moved to the world.

I thought about the events of the year, this country, and the tension so many are carrying. I prayed for relief, for wisdom, and for people who feel unseen to feel held. I thought about student loans, healthcare, and the responsibility of securing the future for the people I love.

Even in the heaviness, moments of beauty returned.

I thought about travel and how grateful I am to see more of the world. I remembered strangers I photographed on the train and the older man at the newsstand on Victor de Hugo. I still wonder if life is treating them kindly.

Looking back, I see the pattern.

This year was filled with thoughts, wonder, questions, and relationship with myself and others. I am grateful to care about anything outside of myself.

As the year closes, I ease into 2026 with intention. Not questioning the will over my life, but choosing to live with purpose and do just a bit better.

From me to you, I wish you more than another year. I wish you a Happy New Year.

#122510