How to Spend the Last Week of the Year

I love the last week of the year.

The end of a year is, in a way, like the end of a life. This is why I dutifully perform a life-review in these my last days—the bests, worsts, and honorable mentions of work, love and play. And since I know time is ticking, there is always a bit of frantic striving right about now.

“If I read 100 pages every day, I will finish the six books I am in the middle of.”

“If I call these three friends, then it won’t have been more than a year since we had a
conversation.”

“If I walk this many miles.”

But in these last days, there is also the sweet relief of succumbing—of settling into the truth before me. I am not going to finish some of these books, and I am (still) not quite the friend, nor the woman, I had hoped to become. I am smack dab in the middle of many important things, even though my time is (purportedly) up.

That makes it sound quite sad. Most endings are.

But maybe another way of thinking of it is like the 10-minute warning a teacher gives when children are finishing up one learning station and transitioning to a new one. There is a certain soothing in being given the privilege of knowing how much time remains before we are asked to move on. This sort of omniscience is rare out in the wilderness of our lives, so when we get the chance, we should savor it.

This week, I hope we are each granted the space and energy to reflect on the year we are leaving behind, hope and plan for the year ahead, but most importantly, to enjoy being alive today.

Reflecting

I suggest first gathering a few tools: lists, calendars, diaries, data apps, loved ones with better/different memories, and then asking a few of the following:

• What were my favorite things I read, watched, listened to, or attended this year? I suggest resisting the urge to answer for a real or perceived audience. Even if you lie to family and say that Catcher in the Rye was your favorite read of 2025, make a private note to yourself somewhere, if the honest answer is “Claudia and the Mystery of Stoneybrook.” When it comes to end-of-year reflections, self-honesty is the best policy.
• What/who uniquely had my attention this year? Note the word “uniquely.” Our parents, partners, progeny, pets, places and professions probably required most of our attention. But despite all those requisite areas of focus, who/what/when/where kept coming to mind? Why might that be? What might you be wondering, wanting, or working toward in these acts of attention?
• When did I feel most alive and/or most myself this year? Consider your body as an essential source for this answer. What made you laugh and cry hardest, what aroused or energized you, what felt like a “perfect fit”?
• What made my life easier this year? It might be a purchase, a practice or a person. But again, fight the urge to name a certain relationship if that is a habituated answer for you. “My loving partner, of course!” or “Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior” might both be true. But maybe there is more insight just a bit beneath those automated responses.

Hoping and Planning

I am not built for New Year’s resolutions for several reasons.

First, so many of them uphold a perfectionistic approach to life that I reject as supremacist and harmful, even when they are packaged as cutesy or Christian.

Second, even though my adult brain rejects all that perfectionistic phooey, some former version of myself loves supremacist assignments. The residue of that person resides in my cells and fills my body with shame when I set a 365-day goal that I immediately forget or choose not to keep on days three, five and six.

Also, I am not built for the “vision board” alternative. Generally, if a spiritual principle or practice won’t work for the most oppressed among us, then don’t care to make it a practice that works for me.

That said, what has worked for me are commitments to seasonal themes, phrases or virtues. Committing to something for a few months seems much more reasonable than an entire year.

I have no idea how many books or workouts I should be expecting of myself next December. For one thing, I don’t know how cold it is going to be, and a lot of my life decisions are temperature-based. I also have no idea what I will have battled, earned, won or lost a year from now.

Ninety days’ worth of prognostications is plenty for me. So, this week I will choose the first set of virtues or intentions that I plan to get reacquainted and realigned with at the start of 2026.

Some might stick with their tried-and-true resolutions, or protest such practices altogether, but finding a way to stoke the embers of hope is an end-of year tradition I think is worth holding onto in some form or another.

Presence

Still, if we do nothing this week but find some time to eat, drink and be merry with the people and places we love, then I think that would be a lovely way to show our gratitude for surviving another heartbreaking and joy-filled year of human existence. Perhaps living this week to the fullest is a sort of RSVP to God and to one another.

Yes, alright, the last learning station has come to an end. Still, weary as we are, we will try it all again one more time, together.