20 Questions for the End of Every Year
What day is it?
The week between Christmas and New Year’s is one of my favorites each year. The Germans actually have a name for it: “Zwischen den Jahren.” It means “between the years.” It’s that threshold in-between space where life slows down, regular routines and rhythms are thrown out, and the usual boundaries between days become blurred.
Each year, I set aside this time between the years to reflect on what has been and imagine what's ahead. Rather than letting the months blur into a fog of memory, I want to capture what mattered—the moments that shaped the year—shared meals and sacred conversations, books that shifted something in me, small joys that kept showing up—and the deeper movements that emerged—what I'm learning about myself, how my perspectives have shifted, what questions I'm still carrying.
If you feel compelled to do the same, here are twenty questions to help capture the sacred and ordinary moments of the year gone by and dream about the year ahead. There’s no rush. Take your time. It usually takes me a few days to move through them. (Pro tip: Copy and paste this list into a note and work on them throughout the week.)
What held your attention or energy this year, for better or worse?
What did you do this year that you'd never done before?
What book, film, or experience challenged or stretched your thinking this year?
What date(s) from this year will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
What song will always remind you of this year?
Where did you feel stuck this year?
When did laugh the hardest this year?
What place or experience gave you the greatest sense of belonging this year, and why?
What’s something you learned this year—about yourself, others, or the world?
What truth was hardest for you to admit to yourself this year?
What are you grieving? Who can carry it with you?
When did doubt open a door to something meaningful?
What boundary did you set that made a difference?
What was one of the best conversations you had this year? What made it so memorable?
Where did you find joy, even unexpectedly?
What practice, ritual, or habit became meaningful to you this year, and what would you like to cultivate in the coming year?
Where did you find rest or renewal this year, and how can you protect that in the new year?
What do you want to leave behind as you move into the new year, and what do you want to carry with you?
If this year were a story, what would the title be?
What mystery or uncertainty are you learning to hold rather than solve?
As the Christmas season continues (yes, for 12 whole days!), I invite you to join me in recommitting to what the late Howard Thurman so beautifully called “The Work of Christmas.” In his timeless poem, Thurman—mystic, prophet, and author—captures the heart of our calling in this sacred season:
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart.
