This is not a resolutions post.

I’m starting off this year a little differently. Which is either a bold statement or a “duh” statement. Duh, because none of us are who we were in January 2025, or ‘24, or ‘23, certainly not ‘22 (#IYKYK)… You get it. Bold, because what you don’t get by reading this statement is that I’m typing it with conviction. But fear not - as the title states - this is not a resolutions post.

As I step into 2026, my mind goes to slipping on a fresh pair of sneakers. Unmanageably white with that brand new just-out-of-the-box smell, soft, but still firm and unbroken-in around the ankles and toes. I’m admiring the newness of them, but also settling into being comfortable in the discomfort. Knowing each step will reinforce the imprint of the step before. It’s also similar to that feeling you get when you slam the trunk of your car closed, those last moments before taking off for a family trip. Where maybe the best part of the adventure lies in possibility. The not knowing.

And, let’s be crystal clear. Your girl is a planner. A stresser. A control freak. Historically, a major New Year’s Resolver. I run a tight ship (don’t look in my coat closet) and I do not leave things up to chance. Because Januaries are not a time to mess around. This is when you plan your year with highlighters and post-its and colored pens. Start a Whole 30 diet. Download a Dry January app, and then another one because you don’t love the interface of the first one. Commit to a highly unrealistic workout program that most likely involves very specific equipment or an expensive membership. You must plot out the changes that will happen! Success must be measured!

Or… maybe… you live your life with the understanding that changes happen constantly. In nibbles and chomps.

Success doesn’t look the same as it used to.

Sometimes it comes in little sparks, other times in a fiery blaze of glory.

1. I’m not doing cold-turkey anything. I’ve decided that this approach = bad. (Unless you’re in a program or have been prescribed this advice, then def do this.) Anytime I’ve tried to do a hard stop with a bad habit, it’s come back to bite me. Smoking, Diet Coke (which I just heard are actually now being called “fridge cigs” which is SO GENIUS), or saying “you know what I mean?” - you gotta work your way down. It takes time. It’s only in those times when I’ve taken small steps and focused on the long game that I got anywhere. Unrelated, where did the phrase “cold turkey” come from? So weird.

2. I’m playing a numbers game. Nothing against going big, but this year I want to focus on the little victories that add up. Less audacious, more actionable. So instead of compiling a list of all the places I want to go, or doing a big bold vision board, I decided to write down the answers to one question: What do I want more of this year?

   I started with ideal states or improvements, but then I drilled down to what they looked like. More family time? Weekend camping trips. Better health? More home-cooked meals. Spiritual growth? Morning prayer time. Small, but mighty actions that will keep me honest and dialed in on what actually matters to me. And what’s funny? It also showed me what I need less of to make room for them to happen. (Spoiler alert: screen time.)

3. I’m asking God to take the lead and mean it. For those who know me well, you know that this is a daily struggle. Sisyphusian even. Like a pesky screw that comes loose even if I feel like I’ve really tightened it. Or that really sharp chewed up dog toy you keep stepping on even though you swear you threw it away. And while I have taken leaps in my ability to set aside what I have planned, and ask the Lord to show me what he wants for me… I could use some help trusting in it. “Your will be done” rolls off the tongue pretty easily, but there’s an implied participation there I’ve been lacking.

   What makes this exponentially hard is that I have always been a planner. A figure-outer(-er?). A curator of experiences with an OCD-level attention to detail. My lists have lists. I see problems and solve them. It’s what makes me great at my job. (FYI I typed, deleted, and retyped “great” several times, bc #womeninbusiness.) So while the idea of willingly giving up the desire for total control is terrifying, it also feels like a great unburdening.

   To be clear, I’ll still make lists, and I’ll still tell you how a movie is going to end 15 minutes in. But otherwise - Jesus take that wheel.

What I think is most exciting to me is the acceptance of the unavoidable challenges and opportunities that will surely come. Being grateful for them before they even happen. Because if there’s anything I’ve learned in these last few years, it’s that this is where the magic happens. Growth. Sharpening. Mastery. Mystery.

All of the best parts of me are the result of going through something. Easy is nice. I love a cruise control button. But the scars, the intricate facets cut by falling and getting up stronger - those come from the hard seasons of life. Leaving home for college. Morning sickness and c-sections. Starting new jobs and leaving jobs you love. Stepping out in your faith when every fiber in your being screams “don’t be weird!”. Watching your kids go through hardships and saying “yes” to opportunities that feel bigger than you.

These are the brush strokes that paint the most beautiful portraits. Even the messy ones.

Because what I’m learning, the older (and wiser?) I get, is that sometimes you have to take your hand off the brush and let the Master Painter paint.

Here’s to letting this year’s masterpiece unfold. 🥂