A few months ago, Molly asked Randy to make some color copies she needed for a language arts project.
My girl doesn’t talk much about her schoolwork, and this was the first we had heard about the assignment. It turns out that she and her classmates were researching social issues, and she had very innocently selected a topic that we felt she should learn about at home (rather than by Googling it herself at school).
I’m a writer and editor by trade, so it probably doesn’t come as a big surprise that I love words.
I get excited when I’m writing and a word that has been eluding me pops into my head, or when I’m revising something and the perfect replacement phrase just flows off my fingertips. But while I put a lot of thought into the words I use in paragraphs and sentences, when it comes to choosing a word for each new year, my approach is much more—um—arbitrary.
Emergency vehicles filled our street on New Year’s Day. We later learned that my neighbor’s father, who had been living with her for the last few months, had passed away unexpectedly. He had been doing well, she told me, and it was a shock.
The very next day, my own mom was admitted to the hospital for what was eventually diagnosed as a stroke. In the weeks before and after Christmas, family members from across the globe had come to town, and she’d spent hours laughing, talking and enjoying all seven of her children and many of her grandchildren.
This is not your typical week-before-Christmas blog post, but for me, this hasn’t been a typical Christmas season.
Don’t get me wrong. The last few weeks have definitely had their moments of peace, joy and merriment. But mixed in with all those moments have been periods of anxiety, stress and internal struggle unlike anything I’ve experienced for several years.
I have some ideas about the root causes of all this turmoil, but that’s not why I’m telling you this. I’m sharing this today because I have a sneaky suspicion I’m not the only one. When I say the struggle has been real for me lately, I’m guessing maybe some of you can relate.
It’s time to revisit my OneWord for 2017.
By revisit, I mean here, on the blog. Not in my heart and mind, where the word has been present, active and possibly even prophetic since it was impressed upon my spirit sometime last fall.
Fierce.
It made no sense when I first thought of it. Out of all the adjectives I might use to describe myself, it never would have come to mind. And yet, there it was.
Fierce.
The sense that this was to be my word only grew stronger the closer we got to the new year. So I dutifully wrote my OneWord blog post (which was mostly about the previous year’s word) and went about my business.
Fierce.
The thing about choosing a word for the year is that you never know if it’s going to turn into something meaningful or just fade away like the morning fog. My two previous words—fruit for 2015 and satisfied for 2016—both were connected to scriptures that I prayed daily, a discipline that kept them front and center for me throughout the year.
I had no verse or prayer for 2017. All I had was a song that describes God’s relentless pursuit of His children in terms of His “fierce” love for us. (Listen here.)
As I explained in that first post, the idea that God’s love for us could be fierce made me start thinking that maybe our love for others could be fierce too. And if love can be fierce, why not patience, joy, gentleness and the rest of the fruit of the Spirit?
Fierce, as in an attitude that is persistent. Deep. Intense. Determined. Intentional, fervent, unwavering.
“As I look ahead to a year that promises to be challenging—perhaps even transformative—for my family, I’m starting to get a feel for why God may have impressed this word on my heart last fall,” I wrote. “I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I know how I need to conduct myself on the way there.”
I read that now and almost have to laugh. I sound so sure of myself, so in control of my feelings, so certain of how to proceed.
I had no idea.
The year began with confirmation of my mom’s Alzheimer’s and took an unexpected, mid-year plunge with an accident that landed her in the burn unit of a Kansas City hospital followed by two months of rehab and (now) long-term care.
Challenging? Transformative? That’s putting it mildly, I think.
I’ve done things this year that I never pictured myself ever needing to do. Daily trips to the hospital with my dad. Discussions with hospital staff members about living wills and nursing-home care. Family meetings with surgeons, internists, nurses, social workers and palliative care doctors. Hashing through what to do next with my dad and siblings when none of the options seemed very promising. Conversations with my girls about what was happening to grandma, and what it’s like to be the grown daughter of a mom who is in crisis. (This was all just in June, by the way.)
There I was—the one who hates change and avoids confrontation—trying to cope with this new situation one setback at a time, one decision at a time, one day at a time.
Fierce.
Looking back, there is no doubt in my mind that the Holy Spirit was the One who planted that word in my heart. A word from the Word, if you will. And there was power in that.
Every now and then—as I awkwardly juggled all this and regular life too—I’d think of my OneWord and somehow, my confidence would grow. I wasn’t fierce before (maybe I’m still not), but having this word in my mind—and believing God put it there—gave me courage to act. To push open doors not knowing what lay beyond them. To listen to hard diagnoses and even harder prognoses, to engage in hard conversations, to pray hard prayers.
Ironically, the fierceness I had planned to display when it came to the fruit of the Spirit didn’t always pan out. Stress, uncertainty and sleepless nights can bring out the worst in people, and I certainly wasn’t immune to that.
I’m thankful for grace, for morning mercies, for opportunities to model brokenness in front of my girls.
I’m thankful for God’s healing power, for my mom’s resilience, for Randy’s listening ear, for my dad’s faithfulness, for my girls’ companionship and my family’s encouragement.
I’m also very thankful that lately, the main thing I’ve had to be fierce about has been figuring out how to keep my mom from losing her hearing aids.
♥ Lois
Looking back, there is no doubt in my mind that the Holy Spirit was the One who planted that word in my heart. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with the RaRaLinkup, #TellHisStory, Coffee for Your Heart, Chasing Community, #HeartEncourgement and Grace & Truth.
The neighbors started putting up their Christmas decorations in mid-November, and you know what? I was totally fine with that.
Maybe some other year I might have been muttering under my breath about waiting until the Thanksgiving leftovers are put away before moving on to the next holiday, but this year?
I need a little Christmas, right this very minute.