More, Please.
I set no goals for 2025. But I did make one list...
I walked into 2025 with no goals.
The ending to 2024 came with a harder landing than anticipated, and all of December felt like an exhale.
Once I reached January – a month typically marked by momentum – I just wanted to keep breathing. In then out. In then out.
I guess I just assumed I’d eventually forge a little vision for myself somewhere in January, but the moment never really struck.
I started calling January my preheating for the year, and now I’m beginning to think that will be a regular rhythm in the years to come. If December is the cooldown, then January is the preheating—two essential bookends for the 10 fuller months between.
I did, however, buy a journal, though, at the tail end of December—a beautiful golden notebook. I wrote this note on the very first page:
“I want more of this in 2025– more intention, more going bankrupt for the kingdom, more investing in others. I want to fill this journal with all the gold this year– golden, golden, golden.”
And I made a single list right after those words. At the top of the page, I wrote two words: More, Please.
Dinner with friends.
Cooking out of cookbooks.
Unplugging.
Lamps and candles.
Blankets. More blankets.
This list wasn’t about resolutions. It was about restoration—what had quietly, steadily, been bringing me back to life after a season of loss. Tiny miracles that whispered, More. Please.
Chocolates, always on the ready in the fridge.
Banana bread.
Slow mornings + coffee in bed.
Books about the bigness of God, and faith, and all the mysteries.
We often think coming back to ourselves has to be big, bold, and dramatic—that we need to fly off to Paris, chop our hair into a bob, or wait at the airport for the return of someone we used to be.
But in reality—or at least from what I’ve uncovered—the return is made up of small things. Things that bring joy. Or peace. Or assurance after a longer day. Or a quiet feeling of Yes. This. More, please.
I think about this when I surprise my daughter with little treats—things she loves, like Kefir smoothies, puzzles, a new nightgown, or Hershey’s. I love to watch her face light up when she notices them sitting on the counter or waiting for her on her bed.
Just the other day, I got her these potato chips she loves, and I watched her dance around the room, proclaiming, “I love my mama, she gets me everything I need.”
And I couldn’t help but think: Who does these things for us —the adults?
When we grow up.
When we leave home.
When we lose a parent.
Or when we move to a new zip code where no one knows our coffee order.
Occasionally, friends and spouses come to our aid, but I think, for the most part, it’s us. We’re the ones who light the candles. Who make the tea. Who start the gratitude practice.
We are the ones who must extend these small kindnesses to ourselves…
We’re the adults. We make the rules.
An Epsom salt bath with a candle lit.
Eye masks (I don’t know why, but these things feel so luxurious to me).
A cup of Peppermint tea in a spooky cup.
Prayer walks.
Tiny luxuries. Things that fit into almost any budget.
The everyday mundane turned ritual.
We’re reaching the end of what the business folks call Q4. The final quarter. The last lap. The remaining bit of hustle. Trending TikToks are now referring to these final months as “The Great Lock-In.”
But I just want to remind you gently:
You’re the adult. You get to decide.
You can lock all the way into the next few weeks. You can set new goals. Or you can make no goals at all.
You can tell yourself the truth: that 2025 has been a set of shockwaves, and what you really might need is some kindness to yourself or, perhaps, a “More, Please” list.
The goal for the days ahead becomes so crystal clear:
More of these things.
As much as possible.
Start by examining your everyday, waking life – look closely at what you’re already doing. Or the things that, when you do them, make you think, “I should be doing this more often.”
What feels like joy?
What feels like a tiny anchor in a crazy, unsettled world?
What feels like a little luxury without burdening a bank account?
What feels like comfort? Or like a buoy in the storm.
Big things have happened for me this year—not because I gritted my teeth, but because I stayed grounded. I hit business milestones without obsessing. My focus was purely on that one list, penned earnestly in a golden notebook. That list served as my guide, and it faithfully led me through this entire year.
I know I will look back on 2025 and say that my year was busy and full, yet anchored – anchored in small gems of richness, joy, luxury, peace, and rest.
Sending flowers.
Raspberry electrolytes.
Reading in bed.
Nightly turndown service.
Yes. This. More, please.
This was such a good read!
Love this sentiment and will be carrying it with me into the new year!