How Do You Measure a Year?
Reflections on growth, renewal, and finding meaning in the season.
There’s a song from the musical Rent that asks: “How do you measure, measure a year?” It’s a question that lingers in my mind, especially on days like today. The song offers ideas—525,600 minutes, sunsets, cups of coffee, or even laughter and love. It reminds us that time isn’t just about what we count, but about how we live it—what we choose to cherish and hold close.
For me, Christmas has always been a touchstone—a day that brings everything into focus. As a child, it was filled with family, tradition, and great moments. Christmas Eve at my Grandma Tonnie’s house brought everyone together in a way that felt great. The house was alive with laughter, conversation, and good vibes.
Later on in life, I would experience extraordinary Christmases from time to time—beautiful trees, incredible presents, and traditions that gave the season meaning. But as I grew older, things began to shift. The responsibilities of my career, especially working in retail, often took center stage, leaving less room for fully enjoying the holidays. Personal challenges would occasionally cause the season to feel uneven, and there were even years when Christmas seemed to slip by entirely.
Still, I’ve always believed that holidays are precious. You don’t get them forever, so I’ve tried to hold onto their magic as best I can. The traditions I cherished as a child gradually disappeared, but in the last decade, I’ve made every effort to create new ones.
This year, I found a truly unique way to celebrate. Even though the month seemed to fly by, I feel like I did something that not only lifted me personally but renewed me spiritually. There’s something about Christmas that has always felt like a chance to get back on the right path.
I’ve often said to friends going through tough times, “We didn’t miss Christmas.” It’s a phrase that has stuck with me, much like the moment in A Christmas Carol when Ebenezer Scrooge realizes after seeing the three spirirts he still hasn’t missed Christmas Day. That sense of renewal—that no matter what’s happened, there’s still time to reflect, to reset, and to get back to what truly matters—has always resonated with me.
Tonight, I found that sense of renewal again. I went with two of my closest friends to the Old Dutch Church in Kingston, New York, a place with a remarkable history. Built in 1659, it’s one of the oldest churches in the country, and stepping inside feels like stepping back in time. Its walls have borne witness to centuries of change, yet the sense of community remains strong. The parishioners are beautifully diverse—a testament to how traditions, like the church itself, evolve and endure.
The space, steeped in history, filled with carols and candlelight, brought me back to the heart of what Christmas is about: togetherness, reflection, and gratitude. For about an hour, we sang with strangers who felt like friends, and for the first time in years, I felt that same sense of togetherness just like beng at my grandmother’s house.
Looking back, this was a great year. In fact, it was an extraordinary year. This year brought incredible growth—both personally and professionally. I learned to celebrate the wins more fully, to embrace the moments of success and joy rather than dwell on the small things that didn’t go as planned. It’s been a year of progress, perspective, and learning to trust the journey.
So, how do I measure this year? I measure it in gratitude. Gratitude for the simple things that sustain me: my health, a roof over my head, and food on my table. Gratitude for my four-legged companion’s who fills my home with love and joy. Gratitude for the incredible people in my life—family, friends, and community—who remind me every day of the power of connection. Gratitude for the work I get to do, for the lessons I’ve learned, and for the light I’ve found in unexpected places.
This year wasn’t just about making it through—it was about thriving, living, and finding the right path forward. And for that, my cup runs over. I’m deeply thankful for all of it. And I’m thankful for you—for being here, for reading, for sharing this journey.
Wherever you are, whatever your traditions, I hope this holiday brings you warmth, joy, and connection. Here’s to another year of finding light in unexpected places and living life brilliantly.
Merry Christmas,
Chris
