The Year That Held Me

Well, hi there folks!

It is officially 2026!

Am I the only one that feels like 2025 just flew by?

Actually, it FLEW by.

Yes, that is all caps.

Well, we are starting this January with some words for you enjoyment!

Well buckle up because here goes!

There’s no single photo that can hold an entire year.

I tried—scrolling through my camera roll, pausing on moments that made me smile, moments that made my chest ache a little, moments that felt like milestones. But the truth is, this year wasn’t about what I captured. It was about what quietly changed me.

This year was a collection of feelings more than events.

It sounded like singing my heart out at a Katy Perry concert with Devin and Karey and surrounded by strangers who somehow felt like friends for a few hours. It tasted like adult beverages shared over laughter—the kind that sneaks up on you and reminds you how good it feels to be fully present.

It looked like saying yes before I felt ready—starting a podcast with Karey, trusting that our conversations were worth sharing, and learning as we went–and laughing all the way. It looked like stepping into the role of Music Director at St. Luke with equal parts humility and awe, realizing how sacred it is to be trusted with something that touches people’s hearts.

It felt like beach trips that filled my cup in familiar ways—and one that changed me completely. My first solo beach trip taught me how to sit with myself, how to listen to the quiet, how to breathe without rushing to the next thing. The ocean didn’t ask anything of me. It simply reminded me that rest can be healing.

There were firsts that still make me smile: my first Market Days in Chicago with Devin, soaking in the energy, the joy, the freedom of it all. Casino trips with Marissa—late nights, bright lights, and memories that didn’t need photos to be permanent. Moments that live somewhere deeper than my phone.

This year was also about people—the kind who anchor you.

Quality time with friends and family grounded me more than I can fully put into words. Long conversations. Shared meals. Comfortable silences. Being reminded, again and again, who I am when I’m surrounded by the people who know me best.

It was walking into my first Hope Noted Summit carrying questions and quiet heaviness—and walking out carrying something lighter. Not answers necessarily, but hope. And sometimes, that’s enough.

If this year taught me anything, it’s that joy doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it shows up softly. Sometimes it looks like rest. Sometimes it’s choosing presence over productivity. Sometimes it’s realizing that you don’t have to earn the right to slow down.

As I step into 2026—the year of the Horse—I’m choosing forward motion with softness.

This will be a year of tending to my mental health with intention. A year of reading more and cluttering less—both in my space and in my mind. A year of recharge, not rush. Of honoring my energy instead of draining it.

Here’s to the year that held me when I needed it most. And here’s to the year ahead—one I’m stepping into gently, bravely, and with an open heart.

Sprinkle sunshine always,

JP!