A Year of Change
Happy New Year 2025!
Wow, we’ve stepped into 2025! How was 2024 for you? For me, it wasn’t the best—actually, it might have been one of the hardest years I’ve ever experienced. This year, I want to be honest about how we’re living, striving to stay the course. But what is that course? It’s different for everyone, which is why sharing our stories matters so much.
2024 was a year of change.
Changes in relationships, change of work, and the bittersweet reality of letting go as my older kids grow more independent. Add to that turning 48 this month, which has ushered in physical and mental shifts I wasn’t ready for. Menopause? Yep, it hit, and the timing felt perfectly planned by the enemy of my peace. Navigating this while raising a 16-year-old is no small feat! Let’s just say menopause is very real, friends. It’s been hard on my marriage too—because when I don’t feel like myself, how can I love others well?
All these changes brought loss, which then brought anger, and eventually, I realized it was grief. This grief opened up a deeper space in my heart. I started questioning everything—myself, my circumstances, and even God. Why were things happening the way they were? The emotional rollercoaster left me feeling hopeless about what was ahead. I wish I could tell you I’ve found all the answers and everything is healed, but it’s not. Instead, I’ve been sitting with God every day, grieving what was and surrendering what’s to come.
An Unexpected Gift of Rest
Leading up to the holidays, I attended a spiritual direction Advent retreat focused on rest. This was an incredible gift—a chance to bring all my feelings and thoughts to God. Rest is not my natural rhythm. Honestly, I used to laugh at the idea, recalling the phrase, “I’ll rest when I’m dead.” But this time, I was ready to hear and process.
The retreat challenged me to live a life of rest—free from striving, achieving, and trying to prove my worth. For the first time, I truly heard the Father. Silence became a rare and needed space for me, as my life has been so full of striving.
During the retreat, I met with a spiritual director who introduced me to something new: the Dark Night of the Soul. This term, first explored by St. John of the Cross in the 15th century, describes a unique space with God.
John Mark Comer describes it as…A season in our apprenticeship to Jesus where he intentionally takes away the felt sense of his presence in order to do a deep work of purgation and preparation in our soul for a greater freedom, love, and intimacy with God.
An experience of God that feels more like absence than presence.
It’s unlearning, as much as it’s learning.
Less of an experience, more of a non-experience.
A place where our faith is given an opportunity for testing and refining.
A transformation of desire.
From love of things/sensuality, to love of God/spirituality.
This process involves self-denial, detachment, prayer, growth in virtue, and the adjustment of our loves and longings for a greater experience of God.
Hearing this felt so validating. I still love and believe in God, but I’ve been stripped of the emotional dependence on feeling Him. Instead, I’m learning to trust in His presence even when I can’t feel it. This isn’t depression—I’ve been there before. This is different. It’s a quiet, grounding season of learning to simply be with God and relearning who I am in Him.
Hope in the Midst of Grief
Recently, I read John 16:20-24, where Jesus speaks about how we will grieve His absence but promises joy. He says our mourning, pain, and sorrow will give way to complete and fulfilled joy.
I’m still in the space between grief, pain, and sorrow, waiting for joy to return in its fullness. But maybe joy doesn’t have to look like emotional highs. Maybe it’s the contentment of the Father’s presence. That’s something I’m continuing to ask Him about.
As we step into 2025, I encourage you to take some time to reflect on 2024. Release it to God, and invite Him to walk with you into this new year.
