I’m sitting in my home office, gazing out at a very gray day. We had snow last evening, but mild temperatures and light rain have turned the fresh blanket of snow into a dull, mushy mess.

Winter isn’t my favorite season—my soul seems to hibernate, awaiting the awakening signaled by the first buds of spring appearing on the trees outside my window. These buds signal new life.

In summer, we slow down to soak up the sun’s warmth, shedding cumbersome jackets, socks, and ‘whole shoes’ (as our daughter used to call them) to make way for sandals, sundresses, t-shirts, and the ever-present sunnies. At times, the sun’s heat becomes oppressive, prompting us to seek the perfect shade under which to sip a cool beverage, dreaming of storing this glorious heat to be slowly released during the cold, frigid winter months.

Then autumn arrives. How I love this season! The summer heat fades, leaving warm days and nights that call for the cozy embrace of light sweaters to fend off the evening chill. The greens of summer transform into vibrant reds, ambers, and crimson leaves, drawing me in like the crackling flames of the fires my mum used to set in the evenings back in Ireland.

However, without the winter months that prompt us to hunker down and reflect on the gifts of new life, warmth, and harvest, we might miss the lessons nature offers.

I believe the four seasons—winter, spring, summer, and autumn—are a rich metaphor for life, especially when we consider the changes each one brings. Over the past year, I’ve been working on a book about change and transition. Initially, its focus was on transitioning from full-time employment to part-time, contract work. This transition would bridge the years between the workforce and possibly leaving paid employment altogether. As I wrote, I realized that life is, and will continue to be, filled with various transitions, each with its own intensity. This process has made me reflect on the many changes and transitions I’ve experienced and consider how successfully or unsuccessfully I’ve navigated each. Transitions stem from change; some are self-initiated, while others result from decisions made by others that impact us. Some transitions bring wonderful opportunities filled with adventure and excitment, while others may lead to loss, grief, and anxiety.

During this winter solstice season, as I reflect on the past year, I remember moments of joy and laughter, delight and pleasure, beauty and wonder, awe and curiosity, peace and stillness. I also remember moments of deep sadness and tears, anger and fear, loss and grief. This is life; these are the seasons of life that shape us into unique and wonderful human beings living amidst its messiness.

One of my favorite Broadway experiences was Rent. From the opening number, I was captivated by the stories of a group of young bohemians endeavoring to live fully. It chronicles a year in their lives. The opening song, “Seasons of Life,” asks, “How do you measure the value of a year in a person’s life?” A big question! But is it really? Looking back over 2024, how would you describe its value in terms of your accomplishments, contributions, and what you’ve received? What gauge or criterion might you use to evaluate its worth? I believe this question, posed by songwriter Jonathan Larson, provides a simple yet profound foundation for closing off a year and setting intentions for 2025, marking it as a year of great value.

What do you think? How might you measure the value of 2024?