Holding the Year Gently

The day after Christmas always feels like a long exhale — a quiet clearing where the noise settles, the lights dim, and my heart finally starts to catch up to the year it has lived. And this year… what a year it was. I can scarcely take it all in.

Ed and I sat together and recounted everything that unfolded over these past twelve months. The list was long — longer than either of us realized while we were inside it. This year was monumental for me on every front. My painting took huge strides, stretching me creatively in ways I could feel in my bones. I had my first commercial show. I launched a new book. We created sensory experiences that I will remember for the rest of my life. I completed two new collections, each one teaching me something about the quiet places where meaning hides.

These aren’t accomplishments to display — they are riches to carry.

Not the loud kind.
Not the kind that glitter for a moment and fade.
But the quiet, internal kind that shapes who we become.

It’s almost too much to absorb at once, so I’m holding it gently — like a gift that needs to be opened slowly. The everyday miracle of this life we’ve been gifted is exactly that: a collection of God given riches. The rhythm of home. The steadiness of love. The people who show up with generosity and presence. The creativity that keeps rising. The moments that ask us to notice, to slow down, to breathe, to savor. 

And within all of that abundance, I’m also grieving. We lost loved ones this year — people who shaped us, loved us, walked part of our journey with us. Their absence sits beside the joy, a reminder that life’s riches come in many forms: some sparkling with newness, others shimmering with memory and meaning. I carry them with me, too.

I will carry all of this into the new year: the work, the learning, the risks, the wonder, the people who showed up, and all who walked alongside me.

These are the riches that must be noticed.

In the quiet, we find our treasures.
In reflection, we see our values.
What we hold reflects who we are becoming.

As I look toward a new year, I feel a deep desire to protect what I carry with me — the creativity that fuels me, the multi-sensory experiences that bring me alive, the partnership that grounds me, this place that inspires me, this work that feels like a calling. 

Thank you for being part of this year — for witnessing my work, for celebrating the milestones, for walking beside me as I explored new terrain in art, writing, and experience. I am carrying you with me too. Your encouragement, your presence, your trust — these are riches.

As we step into a new year, may we each protect what is precious, honor what is growing, and hold close the quiet treasures that light our way.