Notes From A Year I Survived

On Faith, Family, and Learning Not to Quit

I have walked the roads of Lagos lately, rehearsing how this letter would go. Some days, I am overwhelmed just thinking about how the year has unfolded; other days, I tell myself that to move on to next year, I must first fully unburden here.

But the question remains: how do I fit 365 days of memory into a single letter? How do I wrap all of myself into highlights, when all I really want right now is to be wrapped in clarity, not uncertainty about where the roads lead next year?

My last two letters were about a solid truth I had come to believe, and about Ghana. Now, as the year gradually winds down, I find myself looking back, really looking back at how everything played out: the roads I took, the friends I lost, the mistakes I made.

I think this year was a beautiful lesson in four facets: God, Family, Friends, and Work.

I struggled quite a bit this year. I had hinted at it subtly before, but for the first time in eight years, I genuinely considered stopping what I have done for most of my life—photography. Yet, in my usual manner, I woke up each morning believing again. I came into 2025 searching, a search that forced me to slow down and, eventually, to find curiosity again.

I traveled constantly: some trips outside Nigeria, others to mountains, each one an attempt to find novelty, perspective, or maybe myself. So sit tight, and scroll gently, because perhaps this story might be yours too.

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Every December, at my local church—Celebration Church International, we hold a camp meeting. We gather as a community to pray and thank God for the year, and, as expected, everyone arrives with hopes and plans for the next one.

What I like to do, however, is go back to the previous year to revisit my notes, to remember the things I heard in fellowship, and to see which words came to pass. And this year, I realized something:

“God is faithful to His word, and maybe the disconnect between His promise and its fulfillment lies in our lack of discipline to do our part.”

I say this because when I looked through my notes, I saw clear evidence that many of those words did come to pass. And for the ones that didn’t quite materialize, I realized it had less to do with Him and more to do with me, my inconsistency, my lack of structure, my wavering discipline in my spiritual life.

So, for accountability because I do not want to end another year biting myself for the same things, I will say this plainly: I struggled.

I wanted to build a better devotional life. I started with daily morning prayers, then went on to begin a 30-day Bible study and prayer challenge and i have my friend Adele to thank for that. I struggled through it, but I was proud of myself for even attempting consistency. Between January and May, my spiritual life felt robust. What I learned in that period was simple and profound: the entrance of His word truly brings light. And also, the word of God will do nothing for you if it is not in you.

I prayed and studied even when it felt foreign to me, and every time I did, I felt better, lighter. That momentum carried me until June, when things began to slow down. I struggled with my thoughts, ran into a slow period with work, and eventually lost the energy to keep showing up for my goals.

In a nutshell, I became tired—and I allowed that tiredness to rob me of my progress.

My 2025 Wrapped in the God section would be that of someone who ran, fell, walked, fell again, but stood up each time with a deeper awareness that God’s love is unconditional. There were moments of doubt, but as I write this letter and listen to Naomi Raine’s Evidence, I am reminded that He is both sovereign and providential.

Going into next year, I am learning not to shake. I am standing in the promises He has already given me—so why should I fear the future?

This is the biggest testimony of my year: through it all, I reached the end intact, still with my family, with better visibility, and a clearer mind. One truth I will carry forward is this: He always keeps His word. And in response, I will do my best to keep mine—through better devotional habits and stronger spiritual structures.

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Family.
Phewww. I honestly don’t know where to begin.

If you know me, you know I am the first son—and that responsibility is heavy. So when good news came, like my youngest brother gaining admission, it also arrived with a quiet weight: How do I add another university education to an already full load?

As I type this, I try not to fight tears.

Things were tight this year, but none of them complained. I sent what I could, when I could, even though I often berated myself for not doing more. What truly grounded me this year was learning to see them not just as my responsibility, but as my siblings. I grew to genuinely long to hear from them, to think of them, to pray for them—not out of duty, but out of love. They made me proud, my immediate younger brother finsihed school, got a job and actually started finding his feet, I dont get to say it enough but i will publicly say, i am proud of the man he is becoming, the third boy? i have no words, he is stronger than i am, because how he is juggling medical school and an active social media life and also being very involved in physical obligations is beyond me, DOXA, the last boy, tough nut to crack, but i look at him and see a child who also struggled like me, and every day i pray for him, and my sister? the one you should remember, from my Parenting at 21 letter, well she is blossoming and i cant help but smile and be thankful to be the one to steward these stars.

All this love, however, did not come without hard moments. There were times I had to scold them for bad behavior, moments when I found myself praying earnestly for wisdom, to know when to be firm, when to be gentle, and how to discipline without losing tenderness.

As I close this part of the letter, I realize that clarity did not arrive as a loud announcement. It came gently, through survival, through showing up, through choosing not to quit even when quitting felt justified.

I am not ending this year with all the answers. But I am ending it with my faith intact, my family close, my curiosity restored, and my hands still willing to work. And maybe that is enough for now.

If 2025 taught me anything, it is that becoming takes longer than we plan, and grace often meets us in the middle of our inconsistency. So I step into the next year slower, more honest, and more intentional, trusting that the same God who carried me here will carry me forward.

But this story is not finished.
There are still the friendships that stretched me, the ones I lost, the ones that saved me and there is the work: the doubts, the quiet wins, the moments that almost broke my belief in myself, and the ones that rebuilt it.

I’ll return to sit with those soon. For now, this is me pausing—mid-journey—before continuing the story.

How has 2025 being for you?

Do tell me.