Every year for the past, I don’t know, 10? 12? years, I’ve chosen a word for the coming year. A guiding word that would direct my goals, which I would weigh decisions against.

This year’s word was whimsy. Or maybe that was last year.

Clearly, it was important since I have no idea what it actually was or where I wrote it down. (If you choose a word of the year, probably best to make it prominent.)

In retrospect, when I chose that word, it was likely on a whim, and I said something like, “Ooooh, yes! I love that. That’s what I want.”

I didn’t consider it prayerfully. I didn’t hear it whispered during meditation. It was based on my will and my will alone.

Which is really not how I’ve been trying to live my life for the last 18ish months.

No worries, though, God had a word in mind and it won out (ha!).

It was the word I didn’t know I needed and in many ways, was very welcome. I feel closer to God than I ever have and I’ve created new habits to deepen that relationship daily.

But. It’s also been painful.

I’m glad that God only gives you what you can bear at any given time, and so He’s gently held the mirror up to my face and let me deal with my own bullshit gradually.

There was … a lot of bullshit. And old patterns to release. And old wounds to finally heal.

It’s to be expected, I know, considering the years my husband and I were married before we divorced and reunited were not exactly peachy, but I was really hoping for a ride off into the sunset of newly wedded bliss.

Reality has been much more … real. And raw. Good, and ultimately, incredibly healing. Miraculous, even. But wow, what a year.

Only a portion of it has been related to my marriage.

Trust has been a recurring lesson, one that has been HARD for me to learn. Turns out, I like to take the reigns a LOT.

God has even said in my journaling, “This is supposed to be a dance, Little Bird, a beautiful dance. But you keep trying to take over and lead us right into a wall.”

Ahem. Sorry.

And so, it’s the end of the year and I’m gonna do that thing I keep getting told to do - trust.

I’ve been told over and over (and over) again that I need to focus on my home (faith, marriage, children, food, making a peaceful home).

And to write and teach. But, from home. With no pressure to make money. If it happens, it happens.

My natural inclination is to worry and stress about the money. To say, but what if I do this (insert any of the many skills I’ve acquired over the years), too? What if I just start this business? Or this one? Or this one?

And the answer I keep getting is, “Trust. I’ve got you, Little Bird.”

So I’m closing my food service business (when I finally decided that such a huge weight was lifted) and focusing on my home and writing. (Damn, I’ve missed writing.)

Specifically, writing about weaving monastic spirituality into everyday life - with teenagers - on my original Substack, Monastic Mom.

Pray for me, please.

And maybe follow me there if you also want more order and rhythm and purpose in your everyday life.