2025: Looking Back with Gratitude

As 2025 comes to a close, I find myself doing what I so often do here — pausing, reflecting, and trying to make sense of the year not as a list of accomplishments or failures, but as a lived experience. This was not an easy year. It was not a simple one either. It was a year of trials and triumphs, of weariness and growth, of quiet joy and hard-earned grace.

Beginnings and Intentions

I began 2025 with hope — not the loud, fireworks kind of hope, but a quieter one. The kind that says let’s keep going. I didn’t make grand resolutions. Instead, I carried forward an intention to keep writing honestly, to keep noticing beauty, and to keep showing up — even on days when that felt difficult. Looking back now, that intention mattered more than any checklist ever could.

The Daily Practice of Seeing

One of the anchors of this year was the simple, steady rhythm of posting — especially the Pic of the Day and Moment of Zen posts. They may seem small, but they were acts of attention. They reminded me — and hopefully some of you — that beauty still exists even on days when the world feels heavy or exhausting. Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is simply notice what is right in front of us.

Some of those images invited stillness. Others invited contemplation. A few invited appreciative glances and thoughtful pauses. All of them were reminders that paying attention is never wasted time.

Health, Fatigue, and Hard Days

This year asked me to be honest about my limits. There were migraines, exhaustion, medication changes, and days when my body simply refused to cooperate. Writing about those moments wasn’t always easy, but it felt important. Too often we treat productivity as a moral virtue and rest as a failure. 2025 reminded me — sometimes forcefully — that listening to my body is not weakness. It is wisdom.

There were days when I had little to give, days when I skipped poems or kept posts short, days when getting through the workday felt like an accomplishment in itself. Those days count too.

Curiosity, Candor, and a Raised Eyebrow

I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge another side of this blog — the one that surfaces apropos of nothing, usually with a raised eyebrow and a glint of something a bit more daring.

Every now and then, I let myself write something knowingly suggestive: a charged observation, a half-remembered erotic dream, a moment of attraction that refused to stay politely theoretical. I don’t do it often, and when I do, it’s never crude — but it is deliberate. Those posts are reminders that desire is not something to be edited out of a thoughtful life. It’s a signal, a pulse, a way of noticing that I am still very much alive in my body.

Posts like “Apropos of Nothing” or dream reflections such as “When Dreams Drop Hints” allow me to name that sensual undercurrent without apology. They exist alongside poems, devotionals, and reflections not as distractions from the spiritual, but as quiet provocations within it. I’ve come to believe that any faith worth keeping should be able to survive a knowing glance — and perhaps even enjoy it.

Memory, Loss, and Reflection

Some of the most meaningful posts this year came from looking backward — honoring friendships, remembering those who are no longer here, and acknowledging how grief never fully disappears but changes shape over time. Writing reflections like “In Memoriam: Ring Out, Wild Bells” reminded me that memory is not about being stuck in the past, but about carrying forward what still matters.

Another reflection, “A Quiet Table, a Full Heart,” became unexpectedly communal. It reminded me that gratitude, when shared, has a way of multiplying.

Everyday Joys and Connections

If there is one thing I want to name clearly as I look back on 2025, it is gratitude.

I am grateful for my friends — for conversations that made me laugh, for support that arrived exactly when I needed it, and for the steady presence of people who show up not just for the highlights, but for the ordinary days too. Friendship, I’ve learned again this year, is one of life’s quiet miracles.

And I am endlessly grateful for my faithful companion, Isabella. She has been there for the early mornings, the long evenings, the days when I felt worn down, and the moments when a warm presence and a demanding meow were exactly what I needed. Her constancy, her personality, and yes — her diva tendencies — have been a daily reminder that love often shows up in small, furry, persistent ways.

A Word About Faith

Among this year’s Sunday devotionals, the one that most fully embodies the heart of The Closet Professor is “Sanctuary.” It returned to a message I hold close: that God is not confined to institutions, fear, or exclusion, but found in refuge, presence, and quiet faithfulness. That LGBTQ+ people do not need to leave parts of themselves behind to be welcomed by grace.

It’s a faith that makes room — for questions, for bodies, for desire, for rest.

And as I’ve realized again this year:

Paying attention — whether to beauty, grief, friendship, or the occasional knowing glance — is itself a kind of reverence.

What 2025 Taught Me

This year taught me that growth doesn’t always look like progress.

That strength can look like rest.

That honesty creates connection.

And that showing up — imperfectly, quietly, faithfully — is sometimes the bravest thing we can do.

Looking Ahead to 2026

As I step into 2026, I do so with gratitude rather than grand expectations. I carry forward what this year has given me: perspective, resilience, deeper appreciation for community, and a renewed commitment to writing truthfully — about faith, queerness, beauty, struggle, and joy.

Thank you for reading, for commenting, for being part of this space. You make this blog more than words on a screen. You make it a shared journey.

Here’s to whatever comes next — with grace, honesty, curiosity, and hope.