When I go about choosing my One Word for the year, it always goes something like this:
1. Toss a few words around in my head. How about _____? Nah. How about _____? Snort. Definitely not.
2. And then a word pops in my head, and it feels like…home, like it is mine and meant for me. I can immediately come up with a list of reasons why yes, this is exactly the word for me.
3. Then I think on it a few days. And doubt creeps in. Maybe this isn’t the best word. Maybe I misheard. This is actually a terrible word. How about….. And then absolutely nothing comes to mind.
That’s when I know. I am stuck with my word. It’s meant to be mine. This is how it has gone in years past and this year was no different.
My word for 2015 is...
I love it and I hate it.
This is the word that is going to walk with me through my year.
If it’s anything like my story last year, I am going to be all about this word, and then I am going to forget about it. Then it is going to show up, surprise me, turn my life inside out, and become indescribably dear to me.
I could write out all the reasons why I feel I’m meant for this word, but I think the truest reasons will unfold with the year.
I will say this. In 2015, I want to be rooted in Christ and in Christ alone, to grow down deep into the soil of his grace.
I had planned to end this post here. But then this happened….
The first day of 2015 dawns and I hear squeals coming from the kitchen. Ellie comes out with our bean jar in her hands, her face all lit up.
It’s the bean jar I had resigned myself to doing. It was the one science experiment I told myself, “We should actually do this one.” All the other weekly home school science projects required more energy and coordination than I could muster up. Sorry, kids. I’m learning to embrace “good enough,” and this year science worksheets are good enough.
Maybe it was because I have generations of gardeners in my family and never a square inch of garden to call my own. Maybe it was because it only required a paper towel, the included bean seeds and a glass jar. The honey jar happened to run empty that day.
For whatever reason, I decided to try and grow some beans seeds. I decided to try even though our basil seeds had failed miserably earlier this year. I’ve still got the pot of dirt on my window ledge. Never a single sprout.
I decided to try even though we’re leaving in a few weeks to travel, and what will happen to our poor seedling then? (That is, if they should actually sprout.)
Whatever, I told myself. We're just going to do it. The perfect time will happen never. Live in the now, or something like that.
So we slide our bean seeds down between the glass and the wet paper towel. It should take about a week, the book said, to see any signs of life.
Each day the beans seemed to sweat and swell a bit. Still I was dubious. We had three days to go before we should even look for growth.
But on January 1, Ellie sees it and squeals the news “We have a root!”
One tiny white bean root has entered the world. On this the first day of my year of “Rooted.”
It feels like hope and grace and promise.
I start going on to my six year old about how my One Word is “Rooted” and “Look, we have our first root on the first day of the year!” and “Why are we growing beans in the dead of winter? I don’t know, but isn’t this great?!”
“What does ‘rooted’ mean, Mom?”
I stammer to explain that roots are what go down in the ground and drink up life, and how we are to be rooted in Jesus. I can tell she doesn’t get it, but she’s excited because I’m excited.
“Maybe by the end of the year, I’ll be able to explain it better, sweetheart. Because this, this is my year of “Rooted.’”
I'm linking up at The Grove today at Velvet Ashes. We're joining up with OneWord365 and sharing our One Words for 2015.
Do you have a word for the New Year? I'd love to hear.
Photo Credit: Unsplash