As we move into the new year I’ve been giving some thought to “One Little Word” and what word I would choose.
The last couple of years have felt like my feet haven’t been on the ground. There was falling in love; the roller coaster of loss; and the combined love and loss that stem from moving to a place where breakfast burritos are no longer stuffed with bacon, egg, cheese and potatoes but with fried chicken.
Things are starting to feel more settled. Stephen is in the kitchen browning beef for a rich ragu we’ll serve tonight as we ring in the new year with a small group of friends. Fisher is passed out from her morning routine of running after the backyard squirrels, and I look at the Bobcat in the front yard with high hopes of lush grass in the spring when my hostas and hydrangeas will, fingers crossed, come back alongside the sod that goes in next week.
I hear a quiet whisper. My word begins to form.
Every day I think about people, from strangers to those closest to me. I think of lessons from the past and how those lessons inform our progress. My heart goes out to the innocent and the guilty too; for while I believe strongly in justice, I believe just as strongly in compassion.
I think about this gorgeous planet and all of its inhabitants–animal, vegetable, mineral. I think of those with nothing and those with seemingly everything. And I think about the beliefs and stories of groups of people–those in countries, cities, churches, businesses and government–those who love and research and risk themselves to live the truth of their stories, for better or worse.
The whisper gets louder, it senses my doubt.
What am I taking from this world and what am I giving? I fear doing harm–hurting people with my words, my beliefs, my lack of expertise in…basically all areas but the beauty of power naps and cookies…but I worry my silence is doing just that, hurting those who need my support.
And I finally hear my word…root.
Root, quiet and strong.
Root deeply. Take just what is essential and grow so that others may have that which they need now and long after I leave.
I don’t know what will come, or even exactly where I’m headed, but I will place my feet on the ground and begin.