The decorations are coming down, the family gatherings are over, and the calendar quietly turns toward a new year. Martha and I have just reviewed our anticipated schedule for 2026. And yet, instead of relief or excitement, many of us feel something heavier—an unexpected weight that lingers after Christmas has passed. It feels like an invitation to reflect before deciding what comes next. It’s as if this in-between week is asking us to pause before we rush ahead.

For those of us in our 80s, that pause carries different questions and priorities than it did in our 20s or 30s—yet the need to reflect before moving forward is something we all share. When we look back at earlier seasons of life, the concerns that pressed on us then—finances, careers, raising families, finding our place—were real and often urgent, even if they were different from the questions that shape us now.

When people are asked what weighs on them most during this season, the same themes surface again and again—financial pressures, emotional well-being, and the responsibilities we carry for family and others. This tension naturally leads us to assess where we are and where we hope to be. For many, setting goals becomes a way of restoring a sense of purpose or control. I set goals naturally when I was younger, though it wasn’t until my late twenties that I was introduced to formal goal-setting. At that stage of life, Martha and I assumed we could overcome almost any obstacle. That naivety was gradually stripped away when we came to realize that we are, in the end, entirely in God’s hands.

As I look back on our earlier years of married life, it’s true that we had to watch our pennies—but I don’t recall finances weighing on us with the same intensity many young people experience today. We rarely ate out, unless it was for an all-you-can-eat pizza night, children free, sometime in our mid-thirties. Today, some younger working adults feel overwhelmed and struggle to see the value of setting goals at all. Others embrace them as a way to reset—to regain a sense of control, whether financially or physically.

For those who are younger, this season may feel different—but no less heavy. The questions pressing in now may be about stability, direction, or simply keeping up. It can be hard to imagine a time when urgency gives way to clarity, or when striving is replaced by discernment. If there is any quiet wisdom age offers, it is this: the questions change, but the need to pause and listen does not. Reflection is not a luxury reserved for later life—it is a practice worth learning early.

Martha and I have always had a sense of purpose throughout our married life. It has centered on family, friends, and evangelism and missions. As many surveys suggest for older Christians, our concerns increasingly turn toward spiritual matters. With four children and seven grandchildren, both Christmas and Thanksgiving have long been centered on family. Until recently, church life also meant deep engagement in Bible teaching and personal mission efforts. This Christmas, however, we were going have only our oldest daughter at home. The others were gathered with their own families. Even this was not possible as our daughter had to have an emergency operation on Christmas eve—it was successful.

So, as with many older adults, there is a quiet sense of emptiness—and with it, a need for reassessment. Our time now is short. What, then, should we emphasize? We began that reassessment after Thanksgiving and even shared our conclusions with a few close friends. Because time is a finite resource, choosing one priority inevitably means letting go of others. Gardening and keeping up our twenty-five acres, for example, must take second place. Continuing Bible teaching and participating in local and mission committees will remain part of our lives, though likely in a more limited way.

What we wish to emphasize most in our remaining years is hospitality. Welcoming friends and others into our home for a shared meal has always been both a pleasure and a gift. In this season of life, it feels like something we are being called to practice more intentionally.

Perhaps that is why the week after Christmas feels so important. It is not urging us toward hurried resolutions or fresh ambitions. It is quietly inviting us to listen—to the stillness, to our stage of life, and to what God may be asking of us now. For some, that may mean setting goals. For others, it may mean releasing them. Either way, the pause itself is a gift.