Looking Back on 2025: Healing, Clarity, and Surrender

There’s something sacred about that quiet little time warp between Christmas and New Year’s. The rush is over, the noise settles down, and what’s left is a stillness that feels like an invitation—a chance to pause, reflect, and really look at how the year has shaped you.

And let me tell you… 2025 was something.

A Marriage Transformed

This year, my marriage turned a beautiful corner. We’re closer and stronger than we’ve ever been, and that still feels like a kind of miracle to me.

For about ten years, we lived in a recurring pattern: things would be really good, deeply good—and then every six to ten weeks, we’d slip back into the same cycle. Old wounds would get poked, words would fly, emotions would flare, and I’d retreat to lick my wounds while Richard rebounded before I was ready. It made me wonder if our marriage was too fragile… or if we were.

But this year brought so much healing. Through therapy, parts work, EMDR, and a whole lot of prayer, we’ve learned what’s really happening inside us when we’re hurt or afraid. I’ve learned to recognize that “regulated Richard is the real Richard,” and “regulated me is the real me,” and “regulated us is the real us.”

And now? We’ve had over a year of regulated us steering the ship. Our marriage feels softer, safer, more connected. We laugh more. We’re gentler. We’re actually enjoying the fruit of years of hard work and even more grace. I’m so grateful.

My therapist recently said that she thinks both of our first marriages were surviving marriages—relationships we got through because we had to. But this one? This is a thriving marriage. It’s the kind that takes intentional work, the kind where two people pour in and take in healthy ways. And ten years in, I can honestly say: I didn’t know it could feel like this. I didn’t know peace like this existed in marriage. I thank God for it every day.

A Health Wake-Up Call

If I had to mark a dividing line in my adult life, it would be August 2023—though I didn’t know it then. I just knew something was off. What 55-year-old woman who eats well, walks daily, is through menopause, and is on natural hormone replacement therapy feels this tired?

What I know now is that my kidneys have been quietly declining—functioning at about fifty percent. And for two years, without realizing it, I was unintentionally making things worse: taking too many supplements (some unsafe for struggling kidneys) while recovering from Epstein-Barr. Even harder was discovering that a doctor had seen my eGFR plummet… and didn’t tell me. That took some forgiveness work of its own.

When I finally learned the truth this September, it hit me like a wave. Denial. Grief. Research. Immediate action. Within ten days, I’d overhauled my supplements, cut out the harmful ones, and started learning how to live differently.

In October, I met my nephrologist for the first time—calm, thorough, kind. She helped me make a clear plan: more supplements cut, a kidney ultrasound, and autoimmune labs (all negative).
For those who like specifics, here’s what I stopped taking: collagen powder, protein powder, electrolytes, green tea, matcha, kombucha, adrenal support, turmeric, curcumin, magnesium, and calcium.

CKD doesn’t disappear—it’s a long-term condition—but kidney numbers can improve when the underlying strain is reduced. I didn’t know that at first. So when my latest eGFR went up, it threw me for a loop. Comforting, yes. Disorienting, also yes. But it suggests my kidneys are functioning better than they were a few months ago. Even so, the past two years of stress caused lasting damage, so I still have CKD, and fatigue may linger.

For now, the goal is simple: stabilize. My numbers likely won’t bounce back to their old normal, but keeping them steady is a huge win. Transplant is typically below 20, dialysis below 10—we’re nowhere near that, and we don’t need to think about that yet.

I’m okay. Really. I’m learning to be.

And even here, there are graces. Realizing I wasn’t lazy or crazy—my body was trying to tell me something. This season has clarified what matters most. It’s made me love my life even more deeply. And strangely, I’m not afraid to die “early” if that’s what’s ahead. I’ve had such a beautiful life. I trust God with however long He gives me.

The Freedom of Letting Go

One unexpected gift from all of this was clarity about relationships. I’ve adopted a new motto this year:

Stop watering plants that don’t want your water.

I’m learning to release relationships that don’t want to be tended, and to stop obsessing over why. I only want to be in relationship with people who want to be in relationship with me.
So I’m watering a few, spritzing several, and releasing most. The peace is real.

I’m also saying more. Less filtering, less overthinking, more truth spoken kindly. Another little pocket of freedom.

Writing, the Gift Returned

And then—writing. What an unexpected delight this year brought me here.

In June, I wrote a collection of essays in two weeks—Stories Only Strangers Can See—fifty tiny windows into pain, healing, and redemption. Then in September, I wrote a full novel—World Restoring—in just over three weeks. (Apparently when I’m not making kale smoothies, I have energy for entire books.)

I can honestly say God gave writing back to me this year as a healing gift. It’s how I process, how I pray, how I worship. And I feel more creatively alive than I have in years.

Looking Back Before You Look Ahead

So that’s my 2025: healing in my marriage, clarity in my health, boundaries in my relationships, and joy in my writing.

Now it’s your turn. Set aside some time—thirty to sixty minutes if you can. Light a candle. Pour your favorite drink. Get out your journal. Ask the Spirit to quiet your heart and mind. Then gently ask yourself these questions:

• How is my heart toward God these days?
• What moments this year most shaped my faith or deepened my trust in Him?
• Where did I notice unexpected gifts hidden in hardship?
• What brought me the greatest joy—and did I let myself fully feel it?
• Who has most influenced or encouraged me this year?
• In what ways have I grown emotionally, spiritually, or relationally?
• What (or who) caused my greatest sadness, and how has God met me there?
• How is my life different—maybe even better—than it was a year ago?
• What area of my life feels most out of alignment right now?
• If I could change or pursue one thing in the year ahead, what would it be—and why might it matter?

Wrap up by thanking God for walking with you faithfully—and for going ahead of you into the new year.

*And if this stirred something in you and you’d like to start the new year with intention, I’d love to invite you into my Fresh Starts course. In it, we’ll take a look back, honestly assess where we are, peer ahead with hope, and create a personal manifesto for a more whole, peaceful year.