Dear 2026,
Assuming you’ve consulted, or even worse, conspired with 2025, please do me a favor. I’m asking that you would please, kindly consider hearing me out and wiping the slate clean. In a desperate effort not to sound like a broken record (though if I’m being completely honest 2025 did indeed leave me broken) I’d really like the opportunity for a fresh start.
You see, for quite some time now, I’ve felt rather discontent with the level of discontent that I’ve felt. And in the next 365 days, I’d really love to do away with the ‘dis ‘and simply cling to the content. Quite frankly, I’m tired of complaining. I’m exhausted by the endless, all consuming thought loop that always starts and ends with, “why.” “Why me?” “Why us?” Why this?” “Why not?” There is an infinite variety of this line of questioning–believe me when I tell you that I’ve explored nearly all of them–but it turns out that every single one of them is a dead end. They all lead you nowhere but back to where you started. And when you ultimately arrive back at “why” from “why” you are slightly more discontent than when you set out. It’s a conundrum I’ve tried endlessly to solve and one that traps me every time. Even still, it always seems to lure me back in.
But not this year. Not in 2026. I’m finally fed up. And I know, I know. You’re probably rolling your proverbial eyes. I’m sure 2025 filled you in on how many times I said something like this and then found myself drowning in that sea of why all over again-- sometimes only moments later. So to be fair, I can understand why you might have already tuned me out or stopped listening all together. I admit my credibility is rather shot.
And if I’m being brutally honest with myself (and you), I’m wondering as well how 2026 is going to be different. How I’m going to be different. Because the truth is that my circumstances are not different at all. I continue to be haunted by words like “unexplained” and “everything looks fine” and by miracles that seem to find their way to everyone but me. By prayers I’ve prayed a million times into what I’m trusting and hoping isn’t an empty sky.
I’ve spent a lot of time pondering the idea of acceptance. Comparing acceptance and contentment. Wondering if they are the same in some way or at their cores. I suppose I’m still considering that, but I have come to the conclusion that acceptance is at the very least necessary for contentment. Because I know for sure that I can’t truly be content if I won’t stop asking why. Which means I’ve got to somehow accept it all for what it is. And I realize that might sound a bit depressing or hopeless or defreatest–it did to me at first. But the more I sit with it, the more I can start to see that there’s something really beautiful about it. Perhaps accepting it all is merely a more practical way of learning to be content with it all, or perhaps a stepping stone on the way to being deeply and purely content. Perhaps it might be freeing to believe–really believe–that what has been placed in my hands is enough. That I’ve been given exactly what I need. That miracles will find me when they’re supposed to and not a moment sooner (or later for that matter.)That I can be insanely happy until they do and even if they never do.
So the logical next question is how do I accept it? Trust me, I’m asking myself the same thing.
With only three days left ahead of your coming, I’m not exactly sure. But, here are some ideas I have for starting. I’m going to choose peace over productivity; trusting over trying; stillness over striving. I am going to ground myself daily in the goodness of my God and the healing properties of His creation: pine trees, and occasional peeks of winter sunlight, and the clean and crispy pacific northwest air. I’m going to cuddle my dog as often as he’ll let me and probably when he won’t too, and I’m going to love the h-e-double hockey sticks out of my husband who himself is a miracle to me. I will eat with my friends and drink so much coffee with them too, and I will tell them what still hurts. But I will also laugh. I will celebrate. I will do the dishes and the laundry. I will light candles and with them little sparks of hope.
And I suppose I will go on living in a lot of ways as I did in 2025. But I will try to notice more of the beautiful things my hands are holding and a little less what they are not. I can tell you now that I won’t be perfect. I am certain it will continue to be messy and that I will often require resets. But I can promise that I’ll keep showing up because I’m desperate. I’m desperate to find this girl that I’ve lost–the girl that believed wholeheartedly that life is, at its core, beautiful and God is always good and always kind. I hope you'll help me find her and all of the beautiful things because I'm certain they haven't left us <3
Sincerely,
Rachel
