Happy New Year—or maybe a better greeting is, You made it! It’s been an eternity since I last did this, weaving thoughts into sentences. Back then, it was pen and paper; today, it’s keys and screens. The act of writing itself feels like a resurrection. My writing process for the hiatus period has been a messy one of delay, distraction, overthinking, and an impressive dedication to avoidance. Not encouraging terms for the beginning of the year ey? True, but the awareness of it is the start in the right direction if you ask me.
2024 had been a year of relentless demands, stretching me thin in every direction. I constantly felt like I was chasing an elusive "enough," a feeling that left me perpetually unsettled and plagued by the insidious whispers of inadequacy. "I don't know," became my frequent refrain, a mantra of self-doubt that clung to me like a shadow. Yet, as I sat down to evaluate the year, a profound realisation dawned: I had pushed myself beyond my perceived limits, striving even when I felt unseen. Now, looking back, I understand that I was watched, cheered, and silently supported. And in the face of such a challenging year, the simple act of welcoming a new dawn, with breath still filling my lungs, is a victory in itself. It's a reminder that we always have another chance to rewrite our story, to do things differently.
The traditional 'new year, new me' mantra feels less relevant this time around. Maybe this year isn’t about chasing something brand new; maybe it’s about refining; about building on what’s already in motion. It’s about equipping- a process that often takes place in quietude, perhaps even in loneliness. There may be few external accolades or immediate rewards during this season. But as Proverbs 4:18 reminds us, 'The righteous will flourish like a palm tree, they will grow tall like a cedar of Lebanon.' This period of seemingly slow growth is essential for building a strong foundation, a foundation that will allow me to weather any storm and reach my full potential. One thing is certain though, God is at work, refining, strengthening, and readying me for what’s ahead.
This year has a reminder of Isaiah 30:15 pinned to it, that: “In quietness and trust is your strength.” The stillness isn’t a pause in the journey—it’s part of the journey itself. Just as a seed grows in the darkness before it breaks through the soil, this season of quiet equipping is essential for what’s to come. Though the world may measure progress by accolades, I am reminded that God measures it by faithfulness. “And let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9).
Perhaps 2025 is not a case of “new level, new devils,” but rather the same challenges—this time met with updated strategies and fresh determination. It's about deepening the roots of what I've already started, rather than planting entirely new seeds.
With themes and resolutions swirling around, it’s easy to feel the pressure to have a polished answer to questions like, “What’s your theme for the year?” or, “What are your goals?” But for me, the honest answer remains: “I don’t know.” Honestly, I'm still grappling with my own intentions. I sometimes admire how companies thrive on KPIs and clear-cut targets, measuring success by how well you build their vision. But somewhere along the way, it’s easy to lose sight of your own dreams. And that’s where I find myself—in my “what about me” era. Because here’s what I believe: a better me leads to a better we. This year, I’m choosing to invest in myself—not to discard the old, but to refine and grow from it.
So I start the year with a simple prayer: Lord, lead the way. Without clear targets and a fragile in between, I soar on the wings of belief, that this “I don’t know” season might be the very space where God does His greatest work in my life. It might be the year when confusion gives way to clarity and “make it make sense” becomes a testimony of His perfect timing. Maybe not knowing is exactly what I need to draw closer to God. As Isaiah 55:8-9 reminds me, *“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways,” declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts.”
It’s in these moments of uncertainty that I can echo the words of Psalm 37:5: “Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act.” My lack of answers isn’t a failure—it’s an opportunity to rely completely on His wisdom, His timing, and His grace.
As I write this, I’m reminded of the verse that says, 'Cast your anxieties on the Lord, for he cares for you' (1 Peter 5:7). I was intrigued by the word 'cast,' which literally means to throw or fling. It made me think about how we often 'dump' our worries onto social media, seeking validation or simply venting.
Perhaps this year, I can practice truly 'casting' my cares unto the Lord. Unlike social media platforms, He truly cares for me and desires to bear my burdens. If it were an IG post in the throne room of heaven, I imagine it would be like a “cares dump”—a place where I could lay down all my worries. Maybe that’s what this year will be: a “Cares Dump” from January to December. The difference, though, is that unlike social media, this one actually cares for me.
So from me to you;
I hope your days of faking it until you make it are over; that people pleasing does not hijack your authenticity,
I pray you choose to focus on what's sustainable rather than consuming everything that's available,
And I pray you activate your power to flow through you, that you no longer feel powerless in a world that seems like it is outpacing you.
Happy New Year!
I have missed this and am happy you are back
ReplyDeleteMy girl is back. I’m so proud of you ❤️
ReplyDeleteThis is Beautiful. Gives me hope for 2025. Brilliant writing.
ReplyDeleteAuuw 😊 that was l great l feel empowered and motivated
ReplyDeleteLove it!
ReplyDeleteI can relate to bits and pieces and I feel so much seen. Thank you so much for this beautiful piece.