My word for 2026 is commitment. Unlike 2025 when I struggled to hear a word, this one came to me months ago. Seemingly a follow-up or wrap-up of things that have been on my heart for a few years now.
This year’s word is specifically about the commitments God makes to us. Commitments we can rely on, should rely on, and need to rely on. Relying on them takes faith and obedience, and what’s on my heart is that in the months ahead will be fulfillment of some of the commitments He placed in my heart and reminded me of in dark moments.
I’m unusually excited heading into this year. Even though there are some stressful things lingering around, I find myself suddenly joyful throughout each day. Noticing small things, noticing big things, in the quiet and in the noise.
I’ve discovered and am obsessed with mashups of Stayin’ Alive.
I’m enjoying Lysa Terkeurst’s 40 Days Through the Bible and the questions she poses each day.
I’ve even delved into house tasks I typically push off and groan about (why are new toilets so expensive?!), and checking all sorts of things off my list.
I am expectant. And I really have no idea why, other than I just feel it.
And I am happy. Silly and giddy happy.
Loving a new painting of the Appalachians that I picked up.
Adopting a new guideline for Breaking News and teenage antics: on a scale of 50 Cent to Jesus, how should I respond to this?
Snapping pictures of a bathroom sign that said Wash your hands: Jesus and germs are everywhere you go.
I’ve been trying to talk myself out of being expectant, and the word commitment. I guess maybe because I want to have realistic expectations and not be disappointed.
But then this morning I was up early and headed to a workshop. It was 60 degrees and fog hung low over the fields on my drive up country roads. An eagle caught my eye to the left. He flew over me, then in front of me, and then stayed about 100 feet ahead of me for a good 10 minutes of my ride. Having to fly slower than he normally would. Flying lower than he normally would. Seemingly wanting me to follow him. Showing me the way. Or maybe reassuring me I’m on the right path.
That’s when I decided I was going to write down that I am expecting. The 2026 chapter is going to be called prayers answered.
Today began before the sun fully came up, with loud noises and flashing lights. An ambulance at a neighbor’s house immediately had me praying, and also immediately transported me to the night my Dad died and how the world looked as I arrived at my parents’ house.
Red flashes. Red is the color of stop. Red is the color of danger. My eyes filled with tears as my heart filled with heaviness.
And just as quickly as the heaviness came, the urge to choose a direction filled my mind. A deeply ingrained habit, a gift my Dad gave me, to be mindful of the direction of my thoughts and emotions.
My Dad’s gift came in the form of a book – for me, a life-changing book. I first read Battlefield of the Mind by Joyce Meyer as a young adult, when I desperately needed freedom from fear. And although its pages have countless lessons, the most important one for me is this: I am in control of all my thoughts and I choose which thoughts to dwell on and which ones to discard.
This morning I had a choice to focus on praying for someone else or on sadness, grief, and fear. I chose praying for someone else. But as I’m human and all up in my feelings right now, an hour later and for the rest of the day I was focused on and looking back over my scribblings about fear and progress and the year of freedom.
When I think back on all the times in my life where fear had the most power, I had at some point made a choice to walk with or in forces that did not embrace light in the same way I did or needed to. For me, freedom is in the light. I am the strongest when I use my free will, my freedom, to choose light. I am the strongest when I surround myself with other people who choose light.
Are light and love interchangeable here? As in Light and Love? That brings me full circle to Mat Kearney’s Closer to Love, a song that can transport me back to the smells and sounds of CHKD halls just as fast as those lights this morning transported me back to 3 weeks ago.
She got the call today One out of the gray And when the smoke cleared It took her breath away She said she didn’t believe It could happen to me I guess we’re all one phone call From our knees
But that song and those memories all have a happy ending now. A light associated with them. A love associated with them. A freedom associated with them.
I’ve been looking for my eagle, a symbol of freedom, and still haven’t seen her since my Dad went to heaven. I think she holds some sort of secret I am supposed to unlock. A behavior I am supposed to learn from. But until I see her, I’m stuck with Google and bird websites to try and figure it out. What I know with certainty so far is this: in order to fly, birds or planes must have a balance of forces. NASA has really complicated ways of explaining this but Toni Morrison says it so simply: You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.
This morning on the way home from an eye appointment with Ella, I saw my eagle. I feel such a kinship with this bird and this is the lowest and closest he has ever been flying near me. The pictures are not good because I didn’t think to get the phone/camera in time because I was too busy watching him and delighting in the moment, and also trying to convince my child I had not lost my mind because I wanted to pull over and really see him. But he was literally hovering over my car, maybe 10 feet above at one point.
He’s my reminder of Isaiah 40:31 – But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
He’s been my encouragement from God on many occasions. He appears and I hear softly whispered words in my mind: this is just a moment you’re having and this is for only a short time and you got this and this weariness will pass and just keep going.
One of the songs I’m stuck on right now, that moves me to teary eyes every single time, is Champion by Dante Bowe and Bethel Music.
You are my champion, giants fall when you stand undefeated…I am seated, in the heavenly place, undefeated, with the One who has conquered it all.
A couple weeks ago as I was headed for a scary doctor’s appointment, one of my best friends reminded me that God sees three daughters in my family – He doesn’t just see Ella and Audrey as His daughters, but He also sees me as His daughter. I forget that sometimes. I am a Mom and a caregiver, but I am also a child. His child.
And I was reminded of that again today, as my eagle flew right into my line of sight and hovered in seeming slow motion over and around me. In all the years I’ve lived here I have never seen my eagle that close. What a thrill and a blessing and a surprise and a shot of absolute joy. It was an unexpected gift from a Father to His daughter. Just because.
Every single work blouse I have can be paired with jeans that are old and ripped. Work pants are unnecessary BS in my closet and in my life, taking up space where more cute and comfy tops could be.
Breaks are way more important than I thought and I need to take them regardless of my work location. It takes me 12 minutes to ride my bike around the neighborhood with my 9-year old. That 12 minutes changes the way I think about or dismiss a lot of things that happen each day.
When there’s no one around to judge and make snarky comments, a spoon in a jar of peanut butter is lunch.
For the first few weeks of quarantine, I thought I missed lunch with friends. But once we started having Zoom lunches, I realized that what I actually miss is lunch with friends where someone makes us fresh tacos and guacamole.
I want afternoon chocolate no matter the location of my office.
Commutes take precious time away from family. However, they also provide a transition between work and home, and I surprisingly miss that 30 minutes where I was regularly yelling at slow drivers to get out of the fast lane.
I hate decorating, mostly. The whole idea of it is weird – using stuff to distract from the reality of what is or what’s there. But I have realized that I like to surround myself with positive affirmations no matter where I am, and that positive affirmations have a big impact on my attitude. They’re not only a good reminder for us about who we want to be, but a signal for others about who we aspire to be and what they should expect of us.
A bald eagle flies high up in the sky outside my home office window every now and then. She is regal and fierce and graceful. When I worked in the office, even though two of my “walls” are floor to ceiling windows, I rarely took the time to look outside for rejuvenation or inspiration. I watch for my eagle each day now, eagerly awaiting her appearance. She reminds me of the words of Isaiah: But those who trust in the LORD will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.
I look rough by 3 pm, which I’ve always suspected but now know with certainty as I stare back at myself in Zoom.
Zoom me throughout the day.
My body and brain need the same amount of caffeine whether I get up at 5:30 to get a high schooler off for the day or I sleep until 7:30 because my first Zoom isn’t until 8:30.
Whether at home with two dozen mugs to select from or in the office with two mugs to select from, I’m going to drink from the same mug every day.
If I’m stuck on the side of the road and my cell phone is dead and a passerby offers me their phone to call a friend for help, I’m not going to remember the phone number of any one of my contacts. I will, however, be able to enter the Zoom ID for any one of my daily meetings.
It used to be taboo for children and pets to make noise on the occasional day someone, or we, worked from home. But I am convinced now that we know our colleagues on another level – we know and understand them better – because we’ve seen the smiles they have only with family.
I miss those moments when I make eye contact with one of my peeps across a conference room or an aisle or a hallway, and we each roll our eyes (or know that we want to roll our eyes but should not and will not). I also miss those moments when I make eye contact with one of my peeps and neither one of us speaks but we know that we’re each thinking “that’s what she said.”
I’m not ever going to be the mom that makes dinner 5 nights a week, even when we don’t have activities and even when my commute is just a walk downstairs.
Whether it’s the stairs in my office building or the stairs in my house, I will go to great lengths and make up detailed excuses to avoid taking them.
I’m always cold, whether I’m working from home or working in the office. Air conditioning is necessary for me and yet never at the right temperature for me.
When I was a kid, I loved school supplies. When I became an adult that transitioned to office supplies. Even though we do everything electronically, and even though I don’t use any of this stuff in my daily work at home, I still love to be surrounded by paper and post-it’s and pens and pencils and markers. Also, I need highlighters on my desk and in my life even though I never ever highlight anything – and I’m not sure why.
I have not worn real shoes since March 13. No sneakers, no flats, no heels, no boots, no sandals. Only flip flops. Even for bike riding, even on the early chillier days, and even though I haven’t been getting pedicures. I am not sure my feet will embrace the eventual boomerang back to coverage.
My favorite part of every workday starts with Audrey waiting in the hallway just outside my office at about 5pm. She knows my daily wrap-up may be 5 minutes or 25 minutes, so she often waits with a device. But as soon as she hears everyone say have a good night, she comes running in for what she calls end-of-the-day hugs and jumps into my arms or lap. It’s the absolute best, and I never would have experienced it if not for quarantine.
I started a note in my phone a few weeks ago, on a day that I was particularly grumpy and at my max. A note of things to be thankful for, particularly in this day and in this moment and in this circumstance. I did the same thing a few years ago in the year that Audrey was not yet cancer-free, to help steer me away from negativity and nervousness, and to guide my focus toward the positives in each day.
This morning I sat down in my yard with this handsome guy, who I’m thinking might be the father of an addition to our family, and opened up the note to add something – and I realized how long the note had gotten and for the first time reread many of the entries.
Sometimes I hear Audrey talking to someone in her room and I get annoyed wondering who she could be talking to at such an early hour, and I start to grumble at her. And then I discover she was just bored because no one else was awake, and she’d called my Mom who she knows gets up at dawn each day. I love hearing those voices together, laughing, to begin my day.
Audrey waits in the hallway upstairs, just outside the room where I work, for my daily 5 pm meeting to end. When it does end, she runs in and says Is it time for end-of-the-day hugs?! And she jumps into my arms and squeezes really tight.
Ella, at midnight, stopping in my doorway to see if I’ve fallen asleep yet. Nite, Mommy. Love you. My 15-year-old still calls me Mommy, even in front of her friends.
My sister, who I can always count on to give it to me straight, available during a moment of irritation to make me laugh by saying “slow your roll.”
Covid keeping us home isn’t a terrible thing for a child that is a little more easily maxed out on people and noise. For the first time my child asked if I could help her remember a scripture about fear so she could say it out loud to help her focus/meditate. Many days I wonder if my kids just think I’m crazy and roll their eyes at me, and tonight was one of those times I got to see that they’re listening and it makes a difference.
Neighbors who soothingly guide and encourage a frightened child about riding her bike. Ella patiently trying to encourage Audrey to look up at where she’s going while riding, so she’s less likely to lose her balance.
It took a village but Audrey is riding her bike like a champ, and it’s awesome to see the growth in her confidence in the last 2 days.
Being present to see the moment she “gets” a lesson. Being present to see the moment she finds her balance. Being present to see the moment of pride when someone loves her creation. Being present in the moment of excitement about a boy. Being present to see the moment of wonder at how a science experiment turned out. Being present to see the big smile when she got to see and hear her teacher for the first time in weeks. Being present in the moments of silliness between girls, and in the moments of laughing over stupid things with friends who are all on a group call. Thankful for presence.
My friend of over two decades, another straight-shooter, who brought clarity to all my confusion and conflict with one sentence: “Sweep the leg of anyone that threatens (the peace of) Audrey. No mercy.”
Time to sit and be still under my favorite tree. To listen to the soft sounds of my Dad’s bamboo wind chimes, currently in residence at my place. God’s prompt for me to look up at just the right time, to see my bald eagle soaring way above me, on the same day as my Facebook memories featured a conversation from 2 years ago about how eagles embrace the storm and adjust themselves to ride out storms.
Thankful for Joy and joy.
A glass of wine after a long week, sitting with my neighbor who listens and understands, and who allows me to tear up for a moment.
What a hard and yet wonderful few weeks it has been. Everything seems like it’s been upside down, but after rereading my notes I’m starting to think that maybe it’s actually right-side up.
Brave, Anyway 