It’s such a thing these days for people to pick a word for the year. And wanting to be stylish, I’ve been wondering what mine might be.
I’ve run through words in my head that have to do with things that I’ve been desiring or learning lately. Peace. Joy. Love. Simplify.
But they’re all just words. They’re things I want in my life. Emphasis on the “I” and “my.”
And I didn’t really think that picking any of them would be especially effective. It would be putting a sign on the year and then continuing to live with just as much chaos, misery, complication and bias as always.
So I gave up and said “I’m not meant to have a word this year. That’s kind of cheesy anyways, as if one word can define a whole year.”
But after an incident yesterday when I let myself get peer pressured into something I knew I ought not to do, I cried on the phone to my mom. I learned about this stuff years ago, and I ought to know better.
And she told me that none of us is perfect, but even so she’s proud of me.
And God still loves me. And He doesn’t just love me, He’s fond of me.
And so I sat down with him and prayed and cried and apologized. I said I was sorry for being wibbly wobbly and so easily swayed. These are personality traits that have been pointed out in me lately and I hate them. I hate seeing that in myself.
And I begged Him to make me steadfast. I didn’t think that word. I know God floated it into my consciousness. It it sat there with this sense of peace and right that makes me know, that’s my word.