Bare Trees, Full Heart
I sit at my desk with my laptop open on the last day of 2025, staring out the window after a long, not-so-good day, with only a few hours left before the new year. The snow has begun to clear, and the winter trees stand bare, elegant in their stillness. The neighborhood is quiet, and the cold air presses softly against the glass. My long to-do list sits beside me, a stark reminder of everything I left unfinished, everything I wanted to achieve this year. Yet here I am, pausing to breathe, to reflect, to reckon with 2025, and to let the quiet of this moment carry me.
I had hoped that 2025 would be different, a year of compensation after all I had endured the previous year. Instead, it began with a weight I carried silently. The year did not unfold as I imagined. Projects I poured my heart into did not succeed. Opportunities I prayed and longed for slipped away. I faced financial loss and setbacks that shook me deeply. I also recall losing a file, a draft I had poured countless hours into, raw thoughts I had intended to share on Substack. Losing it left me disconnected. I abandoned writing for months, unsure if anything I tried afterward could ever be as solid. I did not know how to start again until I spoke to a friend and slowly, I returned, allowing myself to begin simply, acknowledging what was lost and making space for what still remains to be written.
This year was a season of pruning. It did not give me all that I had hoped for, including in love and in certain ambitions. Yet through it all, I held on. I kept my faith, even when it was hard. Even when I thought I could not expect anything good, I found the strength to give thanks. I acknowledged that God’s plans are not mine to control, and I became more aware of the quiet power of gratitude for the small, often overlooked blessings. The friends who stood by me. The community that prayed with me. The chance to travel and see the beauty of another country, visiting Canada for the first time and marveling at its architecture. Tall buildings, streets glowing at night, the quiet thrill of watching the city unfold as I passed through it. The safety of returning home. The joy of spending Christmas and the New Year surrounded by love this time- not alone! Experiencing the warmth of connection in a new city, away from the life I had grown used to before relocating. In all of this, I found joy in the small details of life.
The year demanded patience, endurance, and hope. It reminded me that expectation does not have to fade when plans fail, and that the efforts, prayers, faith, and resilience poured into this season are seeds that will bear fruit, even if I cannot yet see the full harvest.
So here I am, breathing in the last moments of 2025, trusting that the next chapter will unfold with more of the things I have longed for, in ways that will exceed what I can imagine and also wishing you all a year filled with unexpected joy, courage to pursue what matters, strength in challenges, and moments that remind you how precious life is.
All my love,
Abisoye 💙
I felt the weight of unfinished things in this. There’s a gentleness here that only comes from having stayed. It reads like someone who learned how to remain gentle without denying their understanding.
I’m grateful you shared this moment. Bare trees still hold memory!
"...I found joy in the small details of life."
That stuck with me. Thank you.
You once told me that "God's NO is also an answer, and it only means He has something way better than our request." I hope you will remember this always.
All that you have waited for will come in plus size. Just hang in there.
It's your best year yet!