December 31, 2025

The Counting Crows wrote a song back in the 1990s called Long December. It has long been a favorite of mine, as this month often feels like one that crawls along—slowly building toward the holidays and then dissolving into the hazy, unstructured days of Yule that follow. And yet, here we are on the 31st—the final day of the final month of a very tumultuous year. Somehow, it was a short December after all, no matter how hard I hoped to slow things down.

In the grand scheme of things, politics have not gone as usual these past twelve months.

The year began with a striking image: our nation’s leader sworn in, flanked by some of the richest men in the country. There were many “firsts” this year—so many shocking, unsettling, and heartbreaking moments. It feels strange to already be at the end of such a trying year, and it would be easy to get caught up in the weight of all that has happened over the last 365 days. And yet, it is important that we do not stay there.

Those of us with young people in our households each hold a piece of the future. We cannot allow our fears and frustrations about the larger world to overshadow the lives of those who are new to this earth—who are growing up shaped by the examples of our time, but not defined by them. Choosing hope is an intentional act, and one we must practice again and again.

For some of us, hope is wonderfully tangible: small, huggable, living reminders running through our hallways, bouncing off the furniture, and shouting with unfiltered

joy—sometimes a bit too early, before we’ve had our morning caffeine. My own boys now sleep in more and bounce a little less, but moments of wonder still find us. They show up in quiet conversations, shared laughter, and the way curiosity and kindness continue to unfold before my eyes.

As we step into a new year, may we hold fast to those moments. May we model resilience, compassion, and courage for the young people watching us. And may we enter the year ahead choosing hope—again and again—trusting that even in uncertain times, small, steady acts of love and care can shape a future worth believing in. I appreciated having the opportunity to sit in the service this past Sunday and hear this very message in Ray’s sermon.

That same message of active hope was beautifully echoed in the Story for All Ages last Sunday. In the story, a squirrel learned about New Year’s resolutions and realized that the best thing they could do was what they already did well—helping others. Instead of striving to become something new, the squirrel chose to continue caring for their fellow animal friends in the forest, understanding that the community thrives when everyone helps one another.

As we step into the new year, may we take this lesson to heart. May we choose hope not as a passive feeling, but as a daily practice—one rooted in kindness, service, and mutual care. When the world feels heavy, may we remember that helping one another is both our greatest strength and our clearest path forward. And may the year ahead find us practicing the act of choosing hope together, again and again.

This Sunday many of our families will still be traveling so we will continue with an

unstructured space, working on winter crafts and playing games that meet the yuletide season.

With warmest wishes and hope for the year ahead,

Shannon

Shannon Morrison (hun/hende)

Director of Religious Exploration, UUCMP