Earlier this year a friend of mine asked what my "word of the year" for 2018 was. I didn't even hesitate, although I'd never actually thought about it before. It was, without a doubt, surrender. The unfolding of my husband's cancer, the three surgeries (one major), the week in the hospital, the two months of living out of state, the incredible side effects he suffered.....throughout all of this, I had to surrender everything: my expectations, my schedule, my *THOUGHTS ABOUT THE FUTURE*, my homeschooling ideals, my finances, my privacy. I even had to surrender my husband, as he became unable to speak for weeks and was extremely sick. I wrote more about how cancer changed me here; but suffice to say, when you have to surrender so many things, your core being really does morph and change.
Lately I've been trying to decide what my 2019 word of the year would be, in retrospect. It's not obvious to me this year; it doesn't rise up from my subconscious in such an obvious way, like it did last year. And, if I were to look ahead to 2020, what would I choose as a word to focus on in the new year?
I'm honestly not sure what my 2019 word would be. The cynical side of me that has felt overwhelmed for part of the year whispers that it might be something like stressed or undone or even distracted, but that's not very inspiring. Then the optimistic part of me responds that yes, I have felt more stressed and unsettled than I'd like, but then again, it has driven me to continuously turn to God in the humbling realization that I'm unable to do even Normal Life on my own. So perhaps my word is something like reliant.
And what would my word be for the upcoming year?
One word that comes to mind is focus. I have felt distracted and pulled in many directions this year. Part of that is simply motherhood; after all, there are people who need me *all the time!* And that's okay. But I don't enjoy feeling so scattered. It makes my mind feel like I am not at rest. And even when I'm at home, I often feel pulled and unfocused. The perceived urgency of texts and emails that pop up are so distracting! And honestly, they're almost NEVER urgent. I resent the way cell phones and technology have changed my life.
But another word that comes to mind is slow. Ever since my husband's cancer, every time I feel myself getting pulled and frantic and overwhelmed, I put the brakes on. I slow down--waaay down. I make sure I'm getting sleep. I take my time with basic chores. I avoid making a long, overstimulating to-do list. This is a therapeutic approach to living for me! But it's sometimes hard when my children have seven activities outside the house every week (yes, it's true, and yes, I'm a little undone by this reality, but my husband and I agree that each activity contains specific value that we believe is worth the sacrifice of time right now).
Slow is the antithesis of how I have basically lived for most of my adult life. I am efficient. I am a planner. I like to get things done. My executive functioning skills are really, really good, which means I'm excellent at making lists, managing tasks, and juggling commitments. My sister calls me "Type A PLUS." I have often confused slow with lazy and I despise laziness. However, as I grow older and wiser, I can see how trying to uber-accomplish can be detrimental to my peace of mind. Resting, relaxing, getting sleep, and slashing things off the to-do list (because they're undone and just not that important) are not signs of laziness. They're marks of wisdom.
So I think this year my word will be slow, and I'll see if I can craft a few goals (resolutions?) that align with the spirit of slowness!
In the meantime, I'll leave you with this: my husband's 6-month CT scan on Thursday showed that his lungs are clear and his liver looks great; no sign of metastasis. (He'd had a few spots on his liver in June which we needed to watch, but they appear to just be benign spots, because they've not changed at all, and nothing new showed up on the scan.) His clinical exam was unremarkable, no sign of anything in his mouth or neck.
Thanks be to God, really and truly, from the bottom of my tender heart.
