Why 2025 Didn’t Look Like Growth (But Was)
A personal reflection on joy, loss, rest, and learning how to stay
A personal reflection on joy, loss, rest, and learning how to stay
I didn’t write much this year.
Not because I had nothing to say—but because 2025 asked me to live it first.
It was a year that didn’t unfold neatly or loudly. It didn’t look like “progress” in the way we’re often taught to recognize it. Instead, it looked like slowing down, showing up for what mattered most, and learning how to stay present when I would’ve preferred clarity or momentum.
This post isn’t a comeback.
It’s a pause—and a re-entry.
I'd love to share with you my top HIGHS, LOWS, PROUD MOMENTS, & LESSONS LEARNED of 2025.
The Highs
There was joy this year. Sacred, beautiful joy.
I became an aunt for the first time, and not only that, but I also had the privilege of being present for the birth of my twin nieces. Watching new life enter the world—up close, tenderly, and without distraction—was grounding and healing in a way I can’t fully put into words.
I also returned to homeschooling—again choosing presence over productivity, and reminding myself that the most meaningful work often happens quietly, off-screen. The reconnection with my kids and the renewed enthusiasm for learning along with them has been life-giving.
And somewhere in the middle of everything, I plugged into a Bible study that became an anchor. Not surface-level or rushed—but deep, supportive, and grounding. The kind of community that reminds you who you are when life feels unsteady. It's what I've needed for a long time.
The Lows (or, the Stretching Places)
There were hard moments, too.
I had knee surgery… again. A forced slowing when my instinct was to push forward. My body was very clear with me this year—and I had to learn how to listen instead of override. I had to choose to embrace patience when I wanted to force a fix.
There was also deep grief. The kind of loss that changes you, not temporarily, but permanently. The kind you don’t “get over,” only learn to carry with more tenderness over time. It's both hard and healing to contain feelings of this magnitude.
And I found myself fighting for something very near and dear to me—standing firm when it would’ve been easier to step back. Choosing conviction over comfort. Truth over ease. I was stretched and very uncomfortable. I was brought to the brink of snapping. And it was just plain hard.
What I’m Proud Of
What I’m most proud of isn’t something flashy.
I’m proud that I learned how to rest—without guilt.
Not quitting.
Not giving up.
But staying connected while allowing myself to breathe.
Not giving up.
But staying connected while allowing myself to breathe.
I’m proud that I opened myself to healing in new ways, using new tools, and letting go of “this is how I’ve always done it.” I stayed curious. I listened more closely—to my body, and to God.
And I’m proud that I showed up honestly—in my life and in my work. With less proving. Less striving. More clarity. More integrity. More peace.
What 2025 Taught Me
If I had to name the lesson of this year, it would be this:
Growth doesn’t always look like forward motion.
Sometimes it looks like staying.
Sometimes it looks like staying.
Staying present.
Staying grounded.
Staying faithful when the outcome isn’t clear.
Staying grounded.
Staying faithful when the outcome isn’t clear.
This year shaped how I’ll move into 2026—not faster, but steadier. With more intention. More listening. More trust.
I’m grateful—for the joy, the grief, the stretching, and the quiet strength that came from learning how to abide.
And when I write here again, it will come from that place. <3
