What This Year Took From Me — and What God Quietly Gave Back

It’s the last day of the year.

It’s that in-between day when nothing really changes, but you still feel the load of everything you’ve carried. I’m sitting on the beach, warm sand below my feet and the fresh sea air tangling my hair, the steady thud of waves hitting the shore, calling out now and then to remind my daughter to stay where I can see her. We’re away camping for a little New Year break, and I’m thinking about how fast the year has gone by — and how long it felt at the same time.

How a year can disappear on the calendar, yet stretch endlessly when you’re inside it.

As I sit here watching my daughter splash in the sea, dusting sand off my laptop (it’s windy here today), I can honestly say this wasn’t the year I hoped it would be. Not in business. Not in life. Not in the neat, hopeful way I imagined twelve months ago.
Some things moved forward.

A lot didn’t.

To be honest, there were days I wondered if I was moving forward at all — or just standing still, trying not to fall over.

I sometimes wonder if my words and work are reaching anyone, or if what I’m creating really matters in God’s bigger picture. Especially in those moments when a post goes out, and the silence afterwards feels louder than any criticism. That uncertainty can feel heavy, but I know I’m not alone in it.

But as the year closes, and I sit here somewhat dishevelled by the year I’ve had, I can see something now that I couldn’t see while I was in it.
This year took a lot from me.

More than I expected.

But true to His promise, God gave back quietly, steadily, and without fuss.

Somewhere along the way this year, I kept coming back to the quiet truth of this verse — not loudly, not triumphantly, but almost as a whisper:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

It didn’t fix anything overnight. But it reminded me I wasn’t walking through the uncertainty alone.

What This Year Took From Me

It took my sense of certainty — the certainty I had slowly rebuilt in the years since my husband’s death.

Losing a spouse comes with a heavy dose of uncertainty. Nothing feels stable for a long time. I spent years working my way back to a sense of security — to believing, again, that things could be okay. That life could be steady. That I could trust the ground beneath my feet.

And one of the ways I did that was through plans.

I love plans. Give me a pencilled-in calendar, and I can breathe again. I scribble notes in the margins, colour-code everything, and get a ridiculous amount of satisfaction from ticking off a to-do list by Friday. It helps me feel steady. I want to know what’s coming, what to expect, and how to prepare.

That’s how I found my footing — especially after Glyn died.

But this year?

This year had other ideas.

Things I thought were settled weren’t — they came undone quietly, sometimes overnight. Doors I thought would open stayed firmly shut. Timelines shifted so often I stopped writing them down. Eventually, it felt pointless to even guess. Some days, I laughed at my own optimism. Other days, I just stared at blank pages, not sure what to hope for next.

And all of this took energy.

Throughout the year, there were seasons where even simple tasks felt heavy. Not dramatic-heavy.

Just… tiring.

The kind that settles into your shoulders.

The kind you feel behind your eyes by mid-afternoon.

The kind where you still show up, but it costs more than it used to.

And it took some of my confidence — not in what I’m called to do, but in how long it seems to be taking.

I second-guessed my pace more than once. Wondered if I was behind. Wondered if everyone else had figured something out that I’d somehow missed.

Some days, hope felt very practical.
Other days, it seemed faint.

And for a while, that was the honest truth of it.

What God Gave Back (That I Nearly Missed)

God didn’t replace what was lost with a big win or a sudden breakthrough.

Instead, He gave me endurance.

Not the flashy kind. The quiet kind.
The kind that gets up again. The kind that holds the door open. The kind that says, “Just stay.” Even when staying didn’t feel brave — just necessary.

I was reminded of this verse more than once:

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9

Some seasons aren’t about harvest at all.
They’re about not giving up before it comes.

He gave me clarity, but not the kind I was asking for.

Not a five-year plan. Not a tidy strategy.
Just a deeper knowing of what matters… and what doesn’t.

This year took away a lot of noise — comparison, pressure, and the urge to build in ways that don’t feel true to me.

What’s left is simpler, slower, and more genuine.

God gave me daily provision.

Not abundance. Not overflow.

Just enough.

Enough strength for today.

Enough ideas for the next step.

Enough peace to sleep most nights.

This year reminded me that God often provides daily, not dramatically.

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

I didn’t receive answers for the whole year.
I received what I needed for the day I was standing in.

And perhaps most unexpectedly, God gave me permission.

Permission to rest without quitting.

Permission to move slowly without needing to apologise.

Permission to believe that unseen work still counts.

There were long stretches where God felt quiet.
Not absent — just quiet.

And in those moments, this verse stayed with me:

“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10

Stillness doesn’t mean nothing is happening.

Sometimes it’s where trust is being formed.

What surprised me most is how deeply this season reshaped not just my faith — but the way I work.

What This Year Changed About How I See Business

This year made me realise that at times God doesn’t grow the business.

Sometimes, He steadies the woman building it — even when that means fewer launches, fewer posts, fewer visible wins.

“Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labour in vain.” — Psalm 127:1

This year reminded me that growth built without steadiness isn’t growth at all.

Sometimes, He isn’t holding back success; He’s protecting you from moving too quickly.

And sometimes the most faithful thing you can do isn’t scale, launch, or push harder…

It’s staying.

Stay aligned.

Stay honest.

Stay connected to why you began in the first place.

This year wasn’t about multiplying results.
It was about strengthening roots.

That doesn’t photograph well.
But it holds.

If This Year Felt Like a Step Back

If your plans are still unfinished.
If your business feels quieter than you hoped.
If you’re entering the new year a little tired and a little unsure…

You haven’t failed.

Slow doesn’t mean stuck.
Delay doesn’t mean denial.
And just getting through — especially in a hard season — is still faithfulness.

God is not disappointed in you.

Ending the Year Without Answers — but With Trust

I’m not closing this year with everything resolved.

There are still questions. Loose ends. Unknowns.

But I’m closing it grateful.

Grateful for a God who stayed close when outcomes felt far away.

Grateful for the strength that showed up when I didn’t think I had any left.

Grateful that calling doesn’t expire just because a year was hard.

I don’t need all the answers to step into the new year.
I still wish I had some of them — but trust feels like the right place to stand.

And for now, that feels like enough.

As I look back, I can see now that lack didn’t mean absence.
It meant provision looked different this year.

A Simple Prayer for the Year’s End

“The Lord is my shepherd; I lack nothing.” — Psalm 23:1

🙏 Lord, thank You for carrying me through this year.
For the strength I didn’t know I’d need.
For the provision, I only recognised in hindsight.
As I step into the new year, help me trust You with what I can’t yet see.
Amen.

Stay Blessed,

Deborah 💛