Right now, if you’re like me, you’re living in the in-between. This is the week after Christmas, when time slows down, nothing makes sense, and we’re not 100% sure what day it is. If it were not for the ball dropping being streamed live on TV, we might even miss the coming of the New Year altogether. Honestly, they could air it early and probably fool half of us.

From this liminal space, I find myself looking back on the year that has passed and ahead to the one that is about to begin. For me, this year has been full of, well, everything. It seems 2025 had surprises waiting around every corner of my life. It was the year we continued to discover our new home. The year mentors died and grandsons were born. The year the world seemed stuck replaying the same headlines, while the things my twelve-year-old said made even less sense (six-seven, anyone?). I am sure your year held its own mix of moments, similar in feeling, even if very different in detail.

As I look toward 2026, which arrives in less than forty-eight hours, I cannot help but wonder what waits around its corners. Will there be loss or growth? Excitement or pain? New relationships, deeper wisdom, better coffee? The list of what could be goes on and on. I could easily drive myself crazy trying to predict what is coming or prepare for every possible turn.

But the truth is, we cannot know what lies ahead. Yes, there are patterns we can recognize and dates we can circle on the calendar, but most of what shapes a year arrives unannounced. Life is like that. What we can do is remember where we have been and trust that hope still waits on the horizon. We can choose to lean more fully into the work we are called to do, to rely on one another more honestly, and to offer ourselves a little more grace than we have in the past. We may not know what is coming, but we can meet it with patience, kindness, and a shared commitment to walk forward together.

As I reflect on the end of 2025, instead of resolutions, I’ve decided to take my learnings and carve out a few practices I am carrying into the new year. (You are welcome to borrow them!).

1. Practice Letting Some Stories Remain Unfinished

This one is hard for me. Who likes to stop a book mid-read and never find out how it ends? Yet, this is just how life is sometimes, right? There are chapters of life where we just have to close the book and move on to the next. This year, I am going to remind myself that not every season of life gets closure, and some questions will not resolve on the timeline I’d like them to. This means I’ll have to work hard to resist the urge to force meaning from seasons too quickly and allow space for mystery, grief, and growth to all coexist.

2. Name My Limits Without Apologizing for Them

If the previous years, 2025 included, have taught me anything, it’s that limits are not failures. Instead, setting and understanding our limits are a part of how we stay whole. For me, 2026 will be a year of focusing on learning to say no without guilt, to take rest without having to justify it, and to trust that faithfulness to others does not require constant availability. Setting boundaries is never easy, but they can easily be one of the most life-saving things we can do.

3. Carry Only What is Actually Mine to Carry

This one is tough for my profession because pastors often carry so much of everyone else’s lives. However, what I’ve learned recently is that leadership, family, and care for others can blur responsibility. This year, I am paying closer attention to what is mine and releasing what belongs to others, to systems, or to time itself. No, this does not mean I am spurning my pastoral responsibility to walk with others. What it does mean is that I am going to work harder to set those things to the side to allow times for my own soul to breathe and recognize what is mine to carry and what is not. Some weight belongs to others, some belongs to the season itself, and some is simply too heavy to carry forever. Letting go of what is not mine is not a retreat from care, but a commitment to staying whole. My hope is that by doing this, I will be more present where I am truly needed and more honest about the limits that keep my soul alive.

4. Choose Curiosity Over Control

If moving into a new year teaches us anything, it is that we love control. That’s what resolutions are in their most simple definition, right? They are attempts at bettering ourselves or reaching goals through taking control of certain things in our lives. What I’ve learned is that when the future feels uncertain, control can feel comforting. Yet, there is another ‘c’ word that gives a better framework for living: curiosity. Where control seeks to lock things down, curiosity keeps us open. I want to enter this new year asking better questions rather than trying to predict every outcome. That’s a scary way of moving forward, but it also opens the door to limitless possibilities and exciting paths.

5. Extend Grace As a Daily Practice, Not a Last Resort

As a Christian, grace is not one of those things I can choose to live without. It’s a part of my faith-DNA that sometimes exhibits well and sometimes seems recessive. Why? Because grace is easy to talk about and harder to live. This year, I’m going to work harder to practice it early and often, toward others and toward myself, especially when things do not go as planned. This is not grace without boundaries and limits set within my own capacity for it, but grace that exists at the forefront of my life, not just somewhere in the middle or as a last resort.

Onward to 2026

That is where I find myself as the year turns. Standing in this quiet, liminal space, not quite finished with one chapter and not yet certain how the next will unfold. I do not know what 2026 will hold for any of us. There will be moments we could never have planned for and seasons we would not have chosen. There will also be beauty, connection, and grace that arrive without warning.

So as the calendar flips and the corners of a new year come into view, my hope is not to have everything figured out. My hope is to enter it a little more honest about my limits, a little more willing to release what is not mine, and a little more open to curiosity than control. I want to trust that unfinished stories can still be holy, that boundaries can be life-giving, and that grace practiced daily can shape us more deeply than any resolution ever could.

If you are standing in a similar in-between place, unsure of what the next year will bring, maybe these practices can serve as gentle companions. Not as rules to follow, but as reminders of how to stay human while the world keeps moving forward. As we step into 2026, may we do so with patience for ourselves, kindness for one another, and the courage to walk into what comes next, even when the ending is not yet clear.