Celebrating Progress (Even When It Doesn’t Look the Way You Thought It Would)

On growth, unexpected pivots, and learning to trust the steady path

A few days ago, I turned in the last of my coursework for a two-year undergraduate creative writing program through Oxford University. I still have my final portfolio to submit, but all the assignments are behind me. Just writing that sentence feels surreal.

This has been a long, steady commitment—one that happened mostly behind the scenes. The program was primarily asynchronous and online, with the exception of two weeks of in-person summer classes and a few one-on-one tutorials over Google Meet. As much as I would have loved to have been living in Oxford for the last two years, I chose not to. This meant I didn’t have to uproot my life to attend, and I could complete the work from my small town in Washington. But it also meant I had to create and protect my own structure, time, and motivation from start to finish.

At the beginning of both years, I received a full reading list and assignment schedule for the year ahead. That could have been overwhelming, but I’ve learned something from writing novels: the best way to reach a big goal is to focus on the next right step. One scene at a time. One chapter. One writing session. That same mindset carried me through this program. Rather than getting lost in all I could be doing, I made a habit of showing up for what was right in front of me.

And I was stubborn about protecting my work time.

My mind is clearest and most creative in the morning, so I carved out three-morning sessions a week—at least two hours each—for school. I also committed to at least one hour of required reading every weekday afternoon. I built this rhythm not because I had endless time but because I learned to honor how I work best.

That’s a big piece of what I’ve been reflecting on lately. We all have different rhythms. Different responsibilities. Different energy patterns. It’s not about copying someone else’s hustle. It’s about noticing what works for you and then guarding it like it matters—because it does.

But not all progress is visible.

If you looked at my calendar, you’d see a lot of boxes checked off and assignments submitted. What you wouldn’t see is the quieter growth. I’ve become more confident this year—emotionally, physically, and spiritually. That’s thanks to a combination of things: meeting regularly with a spiritual director, deepening my meditation practice, recommitting to yoga, and, yes, the studies themselves. I’m not the same person who started this program two years ago. And that change didn’t happen all at once. It unfolded slowly, almost invisibly.

Then, earlier this year, I sat in a meeting I had asked for—with people in authority, in a setting where I used to shrink back—and advocated for women. I was part of a group of women who made a big ask. It was one of the hardest, most vulnerable, and most fulfilling things I’ve ever done. A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined doing something like that. But when I was in that room, I didn’t freeze. I didn’t second-guess. I showed up.

That’s what growth looks like, too.

Sometimes, the most courageous thing we can do is simply listen to our own voice—and act on it.

Another shift I’m proud of this year is one I wrestled with for a while: changing my final portfolio project for school. I had initially planned to submit a screenplay, which felt like the ambitious thing to do. I told myself it would stretch me. Challenge me. Prove I belonged in the program.

But eventually, I chose to submit a historical novel instead—something that plays more directly to my strengths and aligns with the kind of writing I love most. And if I’m honest, the ease of that choice scared me. I’m so used to picking the hardest thing available as if ease equals laziness or lack of rigor. But that mindset—that constant need to prove myself—hasn’t served me well. This time, I did what I wanted, not what I thought I should want.

And you know what? That, too, is growth.

I’m learning I don’t have to earn my worth through exhaustion or perfectionism. I’m allowed to thrive in the spaces that feel natural. I’m allowed to enjoy the process. I’m allowed to choose what feels like me.

Looking ahead, I’ve enrolled in a new program: an MFA in creative writing with a focus on genre fiction. That will be my next big commitment, and I’m excited for where it might lead. But before I dive into the next thing, I want to pause and celebrate what’s already unfolded.

Because sometimes we don’t notice how far we’ve come until we stop and look around.

And now, I want to invite you into that same reflection.

Whether you made a huge leap or just kept showing up for the next small step, your progress matters. Whether you adjusted your goals or stayed the course, your growth is worth honoring. Whether your wins are visible or invisible—loud or quiet—they’re real.

Here are a few questions to sit with if you’d like:

• What’s one goal you’ve made progress on this year—and how did you get there?
  
  

• What rhythms or habits have supported your growth?
  
  

• Where have you surprised yourself?
  
  

• Have any of your goals shifted in a way that reflects deeper alignment?
  
  

• What would it look like to celebrate your invisible progress?
  
  

Wherever you are in your journey, I hope you’ll take a moment this week to pause, reflect, and celebrate.

Because progress isn’t always loud.
But it’s always sacred.

---

---

This newsletter occasionally contains Amazon affiliate links. If you click on and buy through one of these links, I receive a small percentage at no extra cost. Thank you.

Quick Links:

• Book Recommendations

• Goodreads

• My Books

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you wherever he may send you; may he guide you through the wilderness; protect you through the storm; may he bring you home rejoicing at the wonders he has shown you; may he bring you home rejoicing: once again into our doors.