As we approach the end of another year—and step into a season of reflection, celebration, and gratitude, whether marked by Christmas, by spiritual remembrance, or simply by quiet time with family—I find myself returning to a recent image of rock formations shared on my Medical school forum. For me it evokes a deeper message. At first glance, it appears to show a lone figure kneeling at the edge of a restless river, bowed in prayer, shoulders curved in surrender. But as the eyes adjust, you discover it is only stone—lifeless, silent, shaped not by choice but by the unending current that has pressed, carved, and reshaped it over time.
And suddenly, the message for me becomes deeper.
A sermon without words.
A prayer without voice.
Time bounded by grace.
Many of us, this year, have been shaped by forces we did not choose—loss of parents, siblings, and friends; health challenges that remind us we are well into our sixth decade; changes that arrive uninvited; responsibilities that weigh heavier than before. We stand for years believing ourselves unmovable, until life teaches us otherwise. Over time, what presses against us smooths our pride, softens our rough edges, and bends us—gently, sometimes painfully—toward wisdom.
What looks like kneeling is not always defeat.
Sometimes it is transformation.
The river in the image never stops moving. It pushes, pulls, surrounds, and reshapes—but the rock remains. Not untouched, but still standing. In the same way, though life sculpts us without asking permission, we retain the power to choose the shape we emerge with. Some come out hardened. Some come out broken. And some—by the mystery of grace—come out looking like prayer.
As I reflect on my own journey, I am humbled by the many kindnesses I have received—undeserved gifts that remind me that grace does its best work over time. God has a way of shaping us even when we don’t realize it. And as many of us transition into the next phases of our lives—retirement, semi-retirement, or simply a slower rhythm—I am convinced that what keeps the mind sharp is not “work” as we once knew it, but the pursuits that bring joy, curiosity, and genuine engagement. Those things keep us alive inside.
So as this year draws to a close, and as each of us observes this season in ways meaningful to our faith and traditions, let us hold fast to gratitude—for life, for family, for enduring friendships, and for the unseen hand that guides our steps through both calm streams and rushing waters.
We have lived much already, but we still have more ahead of us—more grace to receive, more wisdom to share, more moments to savor. Let us not waste the time we have left chasing the wind. Let us stand, kneel, rise, and grow in whatever shape life’s river forms in us—trusting that transformation is not a sign of weakness, but of becoming.
May the coming year meet us with peace, renewal, and purpose.
May we continue to stand—shaped, but not broken.
Warm regards,
Simplyo
Simply O 