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As the year comes to a close, I find myself doing what so many of us naturally do during these final days—looking back at the year we are leaving behind. There is something about the turning of the calendar that invites reflection. It gently forces us to pause, to remember, and to take stock of the ways we have been shaped by the months behind us. This past year has been full—full of teachable moments, deep grief, unexpected clarity, and an incredible amount of support. Some of those moments were holy and life-giving; others were painful and exhausting. All of them, though, have been formative.

I am profoundly grateful that I was appointed to Broad Street United Methodist Church and that I get to continue this journey with you into the coming year. Ministry is not something I take lightly. Being your pastor is not just a job—it is a calling, one I hold with deep reverence and gratitude. I truly believe God placed me here, and I am thankful every day that I get to walk alongside you in worship, in service, in celebration, and in sorrow.

Being single as a pastor can be complicated, especially for someone who is fiercely independent by nature, like me. When life is going smoothly, independence feels like strength. But when life hits—when grief comes, when the body breaks down, when exhaustion sets in—that independence can feel isolating. There isn’t someone at home to help carry the weight or to remind you to rest.  Madison UMC was the first church that taught me an important lesson: when I allowed myself to be vulnerable, when I stopped pretending I had it all together, the church could minister to me. They prayed for me. They showed up. They loved me through the hard parts of life. For a long time, I thought that experience was rare, maybe even unique.

What a gift it has been to discover that same care and compassion here at Broad Street. You have shown me, time and again, that the church at its best is not perfect, but it is faithful. It is a community that notices when someone is hurting and responds with meals, prayers, cards and quiet presence. You have reminded me that the church is not just a place we serve—it is also a place that serves us.

Over the years, I have occasionally wondered if I missed out by not being married. That is an honest thought, and one I suspect many people wrestle with in different ways. But I came to realize that I married the church, this profession, and this calling God placed on my life. That does not mean it is always easy. It does mean it is meaningful. And God continues to show me—especially this last year—that people, as broken and imperfect as we all are, can truly be there for one another with deep care and genuine love.

This year, particularly through the death of my father, I learned something that will stay with me for the rest of my ministry: vulnerability is not weakness. It is not a failure of leadership. It is, in fact, a form of prayer. Allowing myself to grieve openly, to be honest about my pain, was a way of showing that as a pastor, I depend on God just as much as anyone else. It was a reminder that faith does not spare us from loss, but it does surround us with hope and with one another.

As I step into this new year, I do so with a new knee and a heart overflowing with gratitude. This past year has unveiled so much—about myself, about ministry, and about the strength of this congregation. I am deeply thankful for our current staff and the way we work together with trust and mutual respect. I am thankful for a church that is willing to embrace change, to take faithful risks, and to try new ways of organizing and leading, including the transition to a new leadership board. These are not small steps, and they reflect a congregation that is alive and open to where God is leading.

I am thankful to serve in a place where God continues to move in mission and ministry—feeding the hungry, caring for children, welcoming neighbors, worshiping with joy, and showing up for this community in meaningful ways. And most of all, I am thankful for you. You are a church that has given me more than you will ever know. You have offered grace when it was needed, patience when it was required, and love in abundance.

As we turn the page on this year and step into the next, I do so with deep hope and gratitude. Thank you for being the church. Happy New Year!  See you Sunday!

Peace, Pastor Tracy