The Smallest Differences: What Hospice Has Taught Me About New Year’s Resolutions

It has been one of those years. The kind you want to forget. The kind you lost someone you deeply loved.

Yeah, one of those years. And yet, you know you still have it better than the majority of people on earth — just read the newspaper. That should be more than enough to snap you out of your doldrums.

Sometimes it is. But unfortunately, sometimes it is not.

It’s easy to fall into gloom and doom, even during the holidays (and sometimes, especially during the holidays). And then there are the post-holiday blues. Yikes! But that also makes January the perfect time to set New Year’s goals. Often, just thinking about them improves your mental state, the decision that you can take certain actions to improve your life — and you can.

I started to make my New Year’s resolutions: to swim more often, practice yoga more frequently, take a dance class, volunteer, etcetera. Then I took a break — making goals is exhausting! — and reflected on what I do day in, day out: work in a marketing department for an organization that offers hospice care, the Visiting Nurse Association (VNA). One of my job responsibilities is to interview patients (who are interested in doing so) about their experience being on hospice with the VNA, and, at times, their family members about the support they receive as part of that care.

Interviewing these patients is a privilege. They are humble and genuine, and in their end-of-life stage, what is important to them is clear — and inspiring. It is the simple things: a loved one holding their hand; a shared candlelit meal; a room with a garden view.

When I leave these interviews, I always want to be a better person and live life more fully. I want to make a difference. Unfortunately, my mind automatically turns to “big” differences — too big; I can’t save the world — and I end up abandoning them altogether.

I’ve been missing the point — and should know better. Because, as I’ve learned from meeting with patients and their families over the years, we can all make a difference every day — no matter how small — with every interaction we have, from family members in need, to the checkout person at Publix, to a friend who wants a shoulder to cry on — or maybe a good laugh!

In other words, it’s better to focus on the daily, mundane ways in our immediate world to foster our best selves — little goals, if you will. Let them be our base point — and grow from there. In a sense, I already knew this. My grandmother used to say, “Charity starts at home.” But knowing something and living it are two different things. That’s because doing the right thing is not always easy, at least not for me; it often involves biting your tongue. Sometimes it involves forgiveness. Other times, it means admitting you’re at fault and an apology is in order.

I have found that the more conscious I am of these small interactions, and the more I respond in a way that resonates with my soul — however challenging or easy that may be —the better I feel. It expands something within, and I can understand in a visceral way the “flow” my yoga teacher always talks about. That flow makes room for goals slightly larger than my immediate, daily life -— goals that extend beyond my personal routines and that contribute directly to others, such as volunteering.  

It’s a new year, and as I take a moment to say a prayer of gratitude — reminding myself of all that I’ve been blessed with, including family, friends, a home, and the ocean nearby  — I am determined to make a more concerted effort to be present this year and to respond to situations, particularly tough ones, in a way that better aligns with my heart and soul.

As you contemplate the beginning of 2026, I wish you well with your New Year’s resolutions. Remember: keep them small. Keep them real. Allow room for growth. And if nothing I write resonates, I hope the wise words below by the late British-born American poet, Edgar Guest, do. His poem, “Have You Earned Your Tomorrow,” says it all. I truly hope I can live up to its moving message this year — perhaps you’ll feel the same.