On New Year’s Eve, I read a Facebook post that said, “Whoever prayed 2025 in at Watch Night Service needs to be an usher at the back door of the 2026 service.” 

I felt that in my spirit.

2025 was a year! It was one of those years that can’t be summarized neatly and leaves a mark long after the calendar flips. It taught me how thin the line is between gratitude and grief and between celebration and survival. 

Learning Lessons from Losses

In 2025, I lost my mother. Nothing prepares you for a world without the person who has been your constant. The first holidays without her were harder than I could have imagined. Mother’s Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas and her birthday suddenly felt like emotional landmines. I’d never conceived a world without her, but living in that world has taught me that she left more than recipes, photos and memories. She left lessons. She left strength. She left me a blueprint for how to keep showing up even when your heart is heavy.

As if grief wasn’t enough. 2025 also marked a year of uncertainty for my youngest son. Doctors diagnosed him with Level 1 Autism. We immediately went into research mode, learning new terminology and new ways of advocating. What I did not expect was how quickly the world would remind me that little Black boys are scary when they are misunderstood. I learned that phrases like “We don’t have the resources to provide adequate accommodations” are often polite stand-ins for something harsher: We don’t want to deal with you because you don’t fit our mold. I learned that equity is still optional in far too many spaces and that parents are expected to fight quietly and alone.

Four notes written by school children on a school desk
New classmates left encouraging notes on Jackson’s son’s desk before his first day at a new school. Photo courtesy Torsheta Jackson

But I also learned something else.

There are AMAZING people who will show up without hesitation and with their whole hearts. People like Kendal, Toni, Jennifer, Brittany, and others, who chose compassion over convenience. People who listened, who learned and who walked beside our family instead of pointing us toward a door. In a year that could have easily been defined by exclusion, these people reminded me that community is still real and capable of carrying us through.

Celebrating Wins

There were highs, too. In July, the Mississippi Free Press promoted me to the Systemic and Education Editor position. It is heavy, demanding work, but deeply fulfilling. I don’t take lightly the responsibility of telling stories that shape policy, perception and possibility. Every day, I am reminded why this work matters and how deeply blessed I am to do it with this fantastic team of journalists. I also stepped into the role of program manager for the Youth Media Project last summer. YMP brings together my two great loves: journalism and teaching. It is, without a doubt, the BEST part of my job. 

December brought the fulfillment of a dream I’ve carried for many years: color commentary and sideline reporting for basketball. Holding that microphone felt like proof that dreams deferred are not dreams denied. Sometimes they are just waiting for the right season.

Another unexpected gift was the opportunity to return to my alma mater, the University of Southern Mississippi, as a guest speaker. Returning this time not as a student, but as a journalist and a woman shaped by experience, was surreal. Being able to tell them that the path is not always straight, that purpose often reveals itself in the detours, and that their voices matter was personal and purposeful. 

A woman in black shirt holds mic for woman in black jacket speaking
Torsheta Jackson reports from the sideline during the inaugural Mississippi Scoreboard Holiday Classic at Jackson Prep in Jackson, Miss., on Dec. 29, 2025. Jackson said the opportunity was the “fulfillment of a dream.”  Photo courtesy Mississippi Scoreboard

I found that sense of purpose in another role that I took on last year: coaching my middle son’s basketball team. It was about drills, plays and learning the game. It was also about tying shoes at record speed, reminding kids which basket we were shooting in, and learning that the quickest way to prove you are not playing favorites is to put your own child on a three-game suspension after an intentional foul. (Hey, it builds character.) Most importantly, it gave me a front-row seat to my son’s growth. I had the chance to see him not just as an athlete, but as a teammate and a young man finding confidence in his own abilities. I’m deeply grateful.

And perhaps, the sweetest moment of the year, I became a Gigi. There is nothing quite like watching your children love their children with the same fierceness and tenderness you gave them. It is humbling. It is healing. It is joyful in a way that sneaks up on you and settles deep in your heart. In the midst of grief, my little ZJ reminded me that life continues and multiplies. He is also a reminder that, in my Gigi era, the rules I enforced as a parent are now merely suggestions. 

I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions. I’m not suddenly going to the gym. I’m not giving up shopping. I already travel plenty. Life is already whole, demanding and in motion.

Looking ahead

But the new year offers an invitation to reflect and restore.

Reflection means being truthful about what the year was and not what I wish it had been. It means acknowledging the losses without minimizing them and celebrating the wins without guilt. Reflection is recognizing where I just survived, where I grew and where I failed.

Torsheta Jackson and a coach huddle together in a circle with student athletes
Torsheta Jackson writes in her editor’s note that coaching her son’s basketball team gave her a front-row seat to his growth as an athlete, a teammate and a young man finding confidence in his own abilities. Photo courtesy Torsheta Jackson

Restoration means choosing to learn from those lessons. It means extending myself the same grace that I offer others. It means resting without apology and truly living my motto that “No” is a complete sentence. It means trusting that I don’t have to earn peace and I am allowed to protect it. 

I’m moving through 2026 carrying lessons, not resolutions. I’m carrying my mother’s wisdom, my son’s resilience, my community’s love and my own hard-earned clarity. I’ve entered the year grateful, grounded and honest about the work ahead. 

Last year did its job thoroughly and added footnotes. But even if they didn’t send that deacon who prayed in 2025 to the back door for this year’s service, all will be ok. Not because the year ahead will be easy, but because I know now more than ever that I am equipped to meet it. 

Torsheta Jackson is MFP's Systemic and Education Editor. She is passionate about telling the unique and personal stories of the people, places and events in Mississippi. The Shuqualak, Miss., native holds a B.A. in Mass Communication from the University of Southern Mississippi and an M.A. in Curriculum and Instruction from the University of Mississippi. She has had bylines on Bash Brothers Media, Mississippi Scoreboard and in the Jackson Free Press. Torsheta lives in Richland, Miss., with her husband, Victor, and two of their four children.