Love, Light & Lessons: Reflecting on 2025
A look back at a year of RV travel, family, grief, joy, and lessons heading into 2026.
As the year winds down and we start eyeing a fresh calendar, I’ve been sitting with all the pieces of 2025—the beautiful, the chaotic, the ordinary, and the heavy. This year felt like a mix of opposites: joyful and hard, full and exhausting, grounding and stretching. And somehow, all of it mattered.
We packed our months with moments that made this year memorable: time with family and friends, a busy season of school, work, projects, and performances. We hosted friends for the Cotton District Arts Festival. We shared a dinner party with old and new friends during the Georgia game. There were days at the beach and mornings at the lake—both places that never fail to reset something deep inside me. We celebrated our son turning thirteen with dinner at the fun little diner he chose himself. Those memories feel like sunshine I can return to whenever I need it.
And woven through all that joy was loss—and grief that still catches me off guard at times. Those moments have stretched me and humbled me. They’ve forced reflection, not in a dramatic way, but in a quiet, steady way that changes how you move through your days.
This year also came with personal shifts. Working from home full time has been such a needed change after a decade of constant travel. I didn’t realize how much I needed the quiet. The slower rhythm has made space for things that mattered—organizing our home and RV, clearing out what no longer serves us, and making room for peace.
That shift has also made space for more travel—not rushed, not squeezed in—just meaningful time together. And that’s a gift I don’t take for granted. There’s a freedom in having an RV, packing up the dogs, closing the door behind us, and heading toward whatever is next. It’s a balance I love: home surrounded by friends and familiarity, and the road surrounded by possibility.
“They’re just being themselves.”—A reminder from my son that often brings me back to center.
As I look back at this year, I’m walking into the new one with gratitude—not because everything was easy, but because everything taught me something. I’m learning to loosen my grip. To let go of the small stuff. To understand that none of us get a step-by-step guide in this life. Things happen. People change. Plans shift. And the only thing we can truly control is how we respond.
If you’ve had a year full of highs and lows—a year that stretched you, challenged you, changed you—you’re not alone. Maybe take a little time to write it down. Process it. Let go where you can. Carry forward what matters.
Be kind—to others, sure, but also to yourself.
“Every day I learn from you. I'm gonna keep on running toward your light.”—Tedeschi Trucks Band
“Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun. Shine on, you crazy diamond.”—Pink Floyd
We’ll be ending the year in the desert, and honestly, I can’t imagine a more fitting place. The desert is full of contrasts—quiet and powerful, empty and abundant, soft and fierce. The sunsets and sunrises there feel like a reset button, and that’s exactly what I need.
So here’s to the year that shaped us—and the one waiting to unfold.
Love and light to you in 2026. Shine on.
Post a Comment
Thank you for your feedback and comments. I always review before sharing with other readers. Have a great day!