Well, December knocked us down and ran us over. Illness waxed and waned, cycling through us in pairs, and still lingers in raspy coughs and runny noses. I got a chest infection, and somehow a stress fracture in my foot, which makes walking difficult and is still healing. Jake managed to escape unscathed until the New Year, and then he too fell victim to whatever this illness is. We covet your prayers, friends. It’s been a doozy of a month.

So I’m breaking up my complaining with some pictures of adorable kids.

Though December was much more low-key than any of us expected, it still had its bright spots. We got a lovely little Christmas tree and the kids greatly enjoyed decorating it. The whole house was fragrant with the scent of pine, and that brought me straight back to some of my favorite childhood memories.

We also made a little gingerbread house, thanks to a kit from Trader Joe’s. We probably only ate 10% of it before it went stale and got tossed out, but the kids still ask to decorate more gingerbread houses with candy, so I think it was a success and a lovely tradition for them.

Uncle James came to visit, much to the kids’ delight. We had a lot of fun playing with him, and thankfully he left unscathed right before all of us got knocked down with illness.

One of my dearest childhood friends also flew in to spend Christmas with us, which was a big bright spot in the fog of sickness and sleep deprivation. We were too exhausted and/or sick to “do” things — but we lived life together. Cooked meals, read books, tended children, laughed at comedy shows, rested, chatted. Existed in the same space. And it was lovely. I am so grateful for friends that show up in the midst of the chaos without expectation, accepting my weaknesses and understanding my limitations in this season of life — grateful beyond words.

Our annual carol sing party was the Sunday before Christmas (and right before I fell victim to my chest infection) so I was able to help with the decorations. It was a beautiful event. My brother played the piano, and friends and family all gathered to sing carols old and new.

Our former piano teacher even stepped in to play a gorgeous rendition of Go Tell it On the Mountain. The kids had a blast eating way too many cookies and running up and down the halls singing. We’ve hosted a carol sing almost every year over the last decade, and it’s another bright spot in the darkness of winter that we look forward to every year.

We had a fun little power outage a few days before Christmas (NB: it was Not Fun, especially given we have no water without power, and I maaaay have had a mini mental breakdown). Thankfully, the calm glow of the candles and the help of my husband and friend both made navigating the outage doable, and we were lucky enough to have the power come back on just in time for the kids’ bedtime.

But I did get some pretty pics, which are quite literally bright spots in the darkness.

Christmas Eve was quiet with our immediate family. Michael got a Yoto player from my parents, which has quickly become invaluable for quiet time and resetting after meltdowns/tantrums. Beatrice got dress up shoes which she promptly refused to take off, and still wears at every opportunity.

Christmas Day was also quiet — some of us were able to make it to Liturgy, and then we went to my grandparents’ for presents and brunch before meeting for Christmas dinner. Unfortunately, I was pretty sick at that point, so I stayed home and rested with soup. We did manage to get an acceptable family photo, though!

Most of my making projects stalled due to illness, but I made a pair of mittens for my baby goddaughter, and I finished Jake’s handspun hat just in time for Christmas.

After Christmas, Jake’s brother and his family were in town for a wedding, so we got to spend a few special days with them! Michael was so excited to see his cousins — they chat back and forth on the Marco Polo app often, but being able to play with them in person was potentially the highlight of his year. Even though their 3 year old personalities clashed at times (sharing is hard), he still keeps asking me when they’ll come back to play and setting aside toys for them to play with when they come back.

We had a lovely time, even though most of our conversations were smooshed in between mediating disagreements between children and making sure none of them loved each other to death.

So, we’re kind of limping into 2026 (for me, quite literally). But looking back, 2025 was soft and sweet. There were moments of exhilaration and joy: Bea’s first birthday, my local writing career launching, Pascha with our new church community. Our 6th wedding anniversary. An unexpected trip to New Orleans. Beginning a workout routine as a couple. Michael learning to ride a bike. I met my goal of reading 55 books.

There were moments of stress and anxiety, though they pale compared to the joys: Jake losing his job unexpectedly, and navigating painfully difficult job searches and the unknown. Learning to juggle being a SAHM full-time while also writing part-time without burning out (took some try/fail cycles to figure out). Being too sick to go to the gym for most of November/December. Some very difficult parenting moments.

But all in all, it was a good year for us in our little corner of the world. All of us grew, all of us learned, all of us (hopefully) became better, holier people, though I know I still have such a long way to go.

I have many resolutions for 2026: read 60 books, journal more, spend more time outdoors, be a gentler parent…but mostly I’m entering the year with the lessons the last year taught me: surrender and flexibility. They’re lessons I’ll be learning all my life, I’m sure (especially pertinent reminder for me, as I sit here at home trying to rest my foot instead of at Theophany liturgy). And if there’s any ongoing theme I’ve seen throughout my life the past few years, it’s that the bright spots become brighter once we start to look for them.

So cheers to 2025, with all its darkness and light. And cheers to the upcoming year: I’ll be looking for its bright spots.