Tag: 2026 goals

2026 Goals

2026 Goals

As we are upon the beginning edges of the new year, there’s often pressure to make big declarations. Goals. Plans. Resolutions. 

But instead of asking “What are my goals for this year?” I want to ask a gentler, more grounding question: 

Where do you want to be six months from now? 

Not just in what you’ve accomplished — but in how you feel. 

More rooted? 
Less hurried? 
More attuned to God’s presence in your everyday life? 

Sometimes clarity doesn’t come from striving harder, but from slowing down long enough to listen. 

Writing to Your Future Self 

One reflective practice I’ve found meaningful is writing a letter to my future self. 

There’s a free website called futureme.org that allows you to write an email now and schedule it to be delivered to you at a date you choose — six months from now, one year from now, or further into the future. 

This practice shifts the focus from pressure to presence. It invites you to speak to the person you are becoming with compassion instead of expectation. 

When the Letter Comes from a Deeper Place 

During last year’s Awaken Silent Retreat, Danielle, the host, handed out index cards at the end of that last day and asked us to write a letter to ourselves as if our Heavenly Father were writing it to us.  

She prompted us with these questions: 

  • What does He want to share with you? 
  • What does He want you to remember from this silent retreat? 

There’s something profoundly grounding about imagining God’s voice not as demanding or disappointed, but as loving, steady, and near. 

After we wrote those letters, we sealed them into an envelope, addressed them to our home addresses, and handed them into Danielle. About 6 weeks later, the letter I wrote was delivered to my mailbox.  

When I opened it, I knew what it was but could not remember what I had written. Here’s an excerpt: 

(You may want to read this slowly.) 

Dear Carlynn, 

Remember me in the awakening in the silence weekend. In the hurry and in the noise, remember me. Hold me close and tight. That’s the way I hold you. I am never far. I walk beside you. Quiet your mind. Quiet the falsehoods the enemy throws at you. Come to me for truth. Look up. Keep seeking my face when lies creep in. I am your source of truth.  

Love, 

Your Heavenly Father 

Prompts for Your Own Letter 

If you decide to email to your future self at futureme.org — or write a letter as if God were speaking to you — here are a few prompts to guide you: 

  • What do you want your future self to remember that you know will get lost in the chaos of the year? 
  • What’s important to you right now? Why? 
  • What are your goals? Where do you see yourself 6 months from now? How does it feel? 
  • If you were having a conversation with God, how does He see you? What does He want you to remember? 
  • What does He want you to release? 
  • What does He want you to trust? 
  • How does He invite you to walk into the next season? 

You don’t need perfect words. You just need honesty and openness. 

A Gentle Invitation 

This kind of reflection — slowing down, listening, and responding — is at the heart of the work I care most about. It’s the kind of space I hope to continue creating here through writing, and eventually through coaching: a place to reflect, discern, and move forward with intention rather than urgency. 

You don’t have to rush your growth. You don’t have to have everything figured out. 

Six months from now — or one year from now — you may be surprised by what has quietly taken root simply because you chose to pause, listen, and take one faithful step at a time. 

How We Are Shaped Along the Way 

How We Are Shaped Along The Way

The turn of a new year invites reflection. 

Before we rush into goals, plans, and resolutions, let’s pause…look back with gratitude and look ahead with humility. For me, this past year has been full of learning, both personally and professionally. It’s been a gift to walk alongside friends, family, co-workers, and even acquaintances who are willing to show up honestly through challenges, in celebrating growth, and staying curious about who they’re becoming. 

There’s a Bible verse written that’s been a constant on my whiteboard for the past couple of years: 

“Iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” 

Proverbs 27:17

I love this image, and I also think it’s easy to romanticize it. 

Scripture reminds us that transformation often begins in the renewing of our minds. When familiar patterns keep surfacing, it may be God’s invitation to see differently. I shared a reflection on that kind of perspective here. 

Because iron sharpening iron isn’t gentle. It’s metal against metal. There’s friction. Pressure. Resistance. Sometimes even sparks. Sharpening happens through contact, not comfort—and that means growth can feel uncomfortable, even painful at times. 

And yet, that’s how we grow. 

Growth doesn’t happen in isolation. We are shaped in relationship—through conversation, shared experience, and the willingness to be known. When we allow others to walk alongside us, to challenge us, to speak truth with care, we are sharpened. In turn, we sharpen them. Each of us becoming more refined, more aware, more grounded because we didn’t choose the easy path of staying the same. 

As we step into a new year, none of us really know what lies ahead. We don’t know the challenges or the joys that lie ahead of us in the coming months. What we do know is that we’ll walk through it one day at a time. One conversation. One decision. One foot in front of the other. 

There’s something freeing about remembering that we don’t need the whole year figured out. We only need to be present for today.  To take each day as it comes. To stay open to learning—even when that learning stretches us. To extend grace—to ourselves and to others—especially in the places where growth feels tender. 

Matthew 6:34 – “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” 

My hope for this new year is simple: that we would continue to grow together. That we would stay grounded. That we would be willing to sharpen and be sharpened—even when it’s uncomfortable. And that we would move forward—steady, intentional, and hopeful—one step at a time. 

Here’s to a new year.  May it be marked not by hurry, but by presence. 
Not by perfection, but by progress. And not by doing it all alone—but together. 

When you look back on 2025, what moments shaped you more than you expected—and what might those moments be quietly teaching you about where you’re headed next? 

Progress Doesn’t Always Equal More 

Progress Doesn't Always Equal More

Earlier this week, Jeff and I set out on a road trip to Iuka, Mississippi, to spend Christmas with my family. As we navigated out of Houston, Texas, we took the 99 East toll road to reach I-59—a route we don’t travel often. Along that stretch of toll road, we were struck by how much construction and how many new buildings were going up. 

What once were open fields and trees are now being cleared to make room for “progress.” Seeing this makes both Jeff and me feel sad. We think about the deer and other wildlife that once lived there, now pushed into smaller and smaller spaces. We also find ourselves wondering: does Houston really need more strip malls, more stores, more retail? It feels unnecessary. Like too much. 

You can feel the stress in the constant push for more. More growth. More expansion. More productivity. It never seems to be enough. That steady chaos creates a life with little room for rest, and over time, it becomes exhausting. 

As we get further away from Houston and closer to Iuka in the 12 hour drive, the landscape begins to change. The land opens up. Houses sit farther back from the road. Fences stretch across fields holding horses or cows. And beyond what I can see, something else shifts—my body begins to relax. My breathing slows. Without realizing it, I’ve been holding tension. 

Jason Shepperd, pastor at Church Project often says, “life is the balance of holding the tension between blessings and burdens.” This may sum up what I’ve been tangibly feeling, holding the tension between blessings and burdens and the big city can often feel tipped toward burdensome for me. 

It’s important to acknowledge that living in a small town doesn’t eliminate stress. People in places like Iuka still work hard, carry responsibilities, and worry about the same things we all do. Life in the United States often feels hurried and demanding, regardless of where you live. 

What feels different is the environment. A slower pace doesn’t demand the same urgency. There are fewer reminders to rush, consume, or compete. Even when life feels overwhelming, the surroundings don’t add another layer of noise. 

I’m not saying one place is better than the other. Cities like Houston offer opportunity and energy. Small towns offer quiet and space. But they ask different things of us, and our bodies seem to know the difference. 

As we near Iuka, my shoulders drop and my breath deepens. The noise fades. Maybe progress doesn’t always mean adding more. Maybe sometimes it looks like slowing down—and remembering that enough really is enough. 

As 2025 comes to a close this week, I encourage you to take a few moments and take inventory of your life. Where can you eliminate hurry and stress for the new year? 

Is it clearing out physical stress in your home, like re-organizing a closet or garage? 

Is it eliminating financial stress by choosing to buy less in the new year? 

Is it taking stock of your relationships? Choosing to spend more time with those that bring you energy versus those that may drain your energy? 

Is it creating a new or improved habit of going to the well of your Heavenly Father, John 4:14? Spending quiet time with Him? Praying more? Reading scripture? 

Is it decluttering your electronic life? Deleting apps? Turning off notifications? Cleaning up your inbox and unsubscribing? 

Or is it something else? 

This is an opportunity to say in 2026, “less is more”. 

For more ideas on creating margin in your life, Finding 1 Hour of Silence Each Week. 

Progress Still Counts: When the Goal Teaches You More Than the Outcome

Progress Still Counts: When the Goal Teaches You More Than the Outcome

Last week, I wrote about a goal I met: working out consistently for over a year.

It felt good to reflect on that win…not because of aesthetics or numbers, but because it reminded me how much small habits, repeated over time, really do matter. Motivation came and went, but the habit stayed. The consistency carried me on days when I didn’t feel like showing up.

This week, I want to talk about a different kind of goal.
One I didn’t hit the way I planned.
And yet, I don’t consider it a failure.

The Goal I Didn’t “Finish”

At the beginning of the year, I set a goal to read my Bible daily using The Bible Recap reading plan.

As of today, I’m on day 148.

That number needs some context.

It doesn’t mean I’ve only read 148 days this year. On many days, I simply didn’t have the capacity to complete the full reading. Some days I read one chapter instead of several, which meant a single “day” in the plan stretched across multiple nights. And yes, there were days I didn’t read at all.

Even so, I’ve read 12 full books of the Old Testament this year.

That matters more than I think we often allow it to.

What Wasn’t Working

My plan was to read at bedtime — a quiet, reflective way to end the day. In theory, it sounded great. In reality, many nights I was exhausted and falling asleep mid-reading.

That doesn’t mean I lack discipline.
It means I need a better system.

Just like with physical fitness, when something isn’t working, the answer isn’t shame — it’s adjustment.

Reading at bedtime gave me feedback: this time of day isn’t setting me up for success.

The Old Testament Was Hard — And Holy

I’ll be honest: parts of the Old Testament were difficult to read.

  • The sacrifices.
  • The battles.
  • The violence.
  • The endless rules and laws.
  • The genealogies.
  • The censuses.

There were moments I felt overwhelmed, confused, and even resistant.

Slowly — chapter by chapter — something deeper emerged.

I saw a God who rescued His people out of slavery.
A God who parted the waters of the Red Sea and made a way where there was none. A God who wasn’t being restrictive with rules, but teaching a newly freed people how to live as a civilization after generations of bondage.

These laws weren’t cruelty — they were formation.

And the people? They were far from perfect.

Moses.
Abraham.
Isaac.
Jacob.
David.

They had moments of extraordinary faith — and moments of deep failure. They played small roles in a much bigger story. And somehow, God used them anyway.

I see myself in their stories.
Believing… and struggling.
Trusting… and doubting.

A prayer I often pray: “Lord, I believe and help me in my unbelief.”

Why This Still Counts as a Win

Here’s what I know for sure:

I have read my Bible more consistently this year than I ever have before.

If I hadn’t set this goal, I wouldn’t be on day 148. I wouldn’t have wrestled with Scripture. I wouldn’t have learned what time of day works best for me. I wouldn’t have encountered God in scripture the way I have.

This goal gave me progress.
It gave me insight.
It gave me feedback.

And that is not failure.

The Same Lesson, Two Different Goals

When I look at my workout goal and my Bible-reading goal side by side, I see the same truth:

Success isn’t about perfection.
It’s about continuation.

With fitness, I learned that habits carry me when motivation fades.
With Scripture, I’m learning that adjustment keeps me engaged instead of quitting.

Both are teaching me how to be honest and rooted in grace.

So no, I didn’t read my Bible perfectly this year.

Yet I read it more.
I learned more.
And I’m still going.

And sometimes, that’s exactly what success looks like.