What I Learned in 2024

I can rest in the transitions

This year was a year of transitions for me. I changed jobs (twice) and came to terms with a new direction for my work. Everything in this realm has felt like a whirlwind. Yet, I’ve landed in a place that feels good for myself and my family. For this, I am grateful, and all the wrestling was worth it.

We also recently put an offer in on a new house, which was accepted! Our closing date is in a month and I’m now beginning to process a whole new transition ahead. It’s just everything at once: excitement, joy, gratitude, overwhelm, sadness and grief over leaving this beautiful piece of family land we’ve cherished over the last three years.

I’ve craved stillness this year. I’ve wanted things to just stop moving.

But does life ever stop moving? Aren’t we all just living in and between transitions? The time in between the transitions changes, but the transitions are always here. Maybe the secret isn’t to get through them as quickly as we can, but to rest in them.

I can rest in the transitions. And you can too. Because they will always be here, and the restlessness doesn’t mean we’re doing something wrong. It just means we’re human living fully in this ever-changing world.

My “no” is a “yes” to something (or someone) else

This year, I’ve had to say “no” to many things.

I’ve had to call out sick from work to care for my daughter.

I’ve had to decline social gatherings to take a much-needed introvert break.

I’ve had to cancel plans last minute and reorder priorities.

I’ve had to practice discernment and turn down opportunities and positions that didn’t match up with family’s needs or my own capabilities in this season of my life. I’ve turned down clients. I’ve said “no” to more work. This has not always been easy.

Yet, my no’s have been an invitation for a much bigger yes. I’m so thankful I said no. Because I said yes to the people who really mattered. I said yes to rest.

Our no’s are actually a very, very good thing.

Fantasy books might be more of my thing

Earlier this Fall, Joey and I went on a camping trip together. We decided to read the same book so we could enjoy and talk about it together. Over the last year, Joey has been obsessed with Brandon Sanderson. He wouldn’t stop talking about him. And it was actually pretty annoying until I decided to give Sanderson a try.

On this camping trip we decided to read Sanderson’s Tress of the Emerald Sea together and I was hooked! It was one of the best fiction books I’ve ever read. Sanderson is brilliant. His fantasy has a way of helping you escape the world while also facing it. I have a newfound respect and appreciation for Sanderson and the fantasy world.

Unpacking the story of our bodies brings liberation and peace

This year I’ve also picked up Practices for Embodied Living by Hillary McBride. This is a beautiful book filled with questions and reflections to help us live in our bodies, while unpacking trauma and harmful messages our bodies absorb.

There is great freedom and liberation when we begin to listen to the stories of our bodies with curiosity and compassion, openness and acceptance, and a quest for truth. It is a courageous, messy, and very worthy journey.

Mistakes are stepping stones for growth

This year, I’ve taken some messy steps. I’ve tried new things, started new positions, set new boundaries, had new conversations. And I’ve done it very imperfectly. I’ve made many mistakes along the way.

I’m learning that mistakes are not really something to avoid or fear. They are stepping stones for growth. In fact, mistakes often reveal what we really need. Our mistakes hold nuggets of truth and wisdom for the moment we’re in.

May we see mistakes as our teachers, holding them with grace and gratitude rather than shame and regret.

Life with a two-year old is precious

Truly, my daughter brings so much joy at this age. Her curiosity, vocabulary, and personality grows every day. She loves to jump and she loves to sing. Her whole body laughs when she giggles. And she makes all the other bodies around her belly laugh with her.

She has a new joke: It’s called “banana poop.” She makes herself laugh so hard. It’s the best thing in the whole world.

Watching her grow feels so special and hard. I want to play with her curls and hold her in my arms forever. But I can’t. She already wiggles her way out of my arms and into her books and toys.

But I’ll keep holding her as tight as I can for now, when she let’s me.

Parenting is really everything at once. It stretches something hard inside of you and heals you at the same time. It makes you smile and it makes you cry.

Talk about being in transition… being with her makes me face transition every day. Yet I wouldn’t have it any other way.