As I sit here with my piping hot tea, reheated numerous times before I could take the first sip, I think about my word for this year. We are in a new home. The last of the cardboard is outside, flattened and damp from the west coast rains. Everything is in it’s place.
My word seems to fit for my right now. We are well and healthy. We have a fresh start. New places to discover and traffic patterns to memorize. We are surrounded by more trees, with less bike bells. More mist and gray, but bigger yards and streets and, well, everything.
All is calm and good. For now.
My word for 2015 is mend.
But I know a thing or two about these one word challenges. The word holds weight. And I know a thing or two about this disease. It’s so unpredictable.
Last year my word was brave.
And I did not feel brave all year. Maybe a handful of days in early January. But after that, it was the hardest year of my life. I can’t tell you how many times I mumbled prayers and tasted tears and rocked myself and my blooming belly in the dark of the bedroom.
Brave? It sure didn’t feel that way. On December 2nd we received the news that Theodore Brave did not have Spinal Muscular Atrophy. I haven’t cried much since. It feels good to give my body and soul a rest from fear and sadness.
So, while I was driving the other day, my word came to me. I felt my heart beat a little faster.
Mend. This year, set aside time to mend. Mend others. Be mended. But mostly, let yourself be mended in your brokenness.
We don’t know what this year holds for Florence. To be frank, every year (1, 2) gets a little harder. She gets weaker, we face growing mountains. We notice more regression in her strength. I can’t explain how hard it is to watch your child lose so much. But I do taste and see and sense grace, like never before.
There is grace to mend this year. It doesn’t mean there won’t be heartache and struggle.
It does mean that God has called me to mend in the middle of my brokenness. And the best part? I can’t mend myself, but God can knit be back together. I can love myself, and let my heart be tenderized by hope and joy. I can take time for myself, and buy that fat, hardcover book to read in the bath. But it’s not enough. In order to really mend, I need to pour myself out into others. I need to continue to function healthily in chaos and struggle.
And if I look around me, if I pause in the mundane and the racing heart moments, I will find His thimbled fingers working and combing through each tendril of my life.
What’s your one word for 2015? I’d love to hear! If you haven’t heard of the one word concept, read this.