Every year around this time, I choose a word of the year. Not a resolution. Not a five-step self-improvement plan. Not a New Year’s Resolution. Just one word.
And honestly, I love that. It’s doable. It’s applicable. And it sticks with me all year.
I think choosing a word matters because it causes us to pause. It asks us to look inward instead of outward. It invites a little self-awareness without demanding perfection. A word doesn’t shout at us the way goals or resolutions sometimes do. It quietly asks, What do I need this year? or Where am I being invited to grow? What would the Lord ask of me? How can I do better?
A word for the year gives us something to carry—not something to conquer.
It can help us name what we’re working on, what we’re learning, or how we need to support ourselves in the year ahead. And sometimes, it simply gives us permission to slow down and consider instead of rush forward.
So this year, I want to invite you into something special.
I’d love for you to choose a word for 2026—and tell me what it is.
You can reply to this email and share your word, and if you want, a sentence or two about why you chose it. If you do, I’ll send something back to you as a thank-you. And next month, with your permission, I’d love to share some of the words people chose and the stories behind them. (Only with consent, of course—no surprise spotlights.)
Now… about my word.
My word for this year is wait.
And no, I did not choose it because it sounded peaceful or poetic.
I chose it because waiting is hard, but necessary. And it’s my season right now.
We do not like to wait. We like answers. We like progress. We like drive-thru efficiency and instant confirmation emails. We do not like being told, “Just pull forward and we’ll bring it out to you.” That phrase alone can raise our blood pressure. :)
Waiting in line behind someone with a stack of coupons.
Waiting at the BMV, wondering if time actually still exists there.
Waiting for dinner when you’re already hungry.
Waiting to hear about a job, an opportunity, a decision, an award.
Waiting when you’d really prefer clarity—right now, please.
Waiting feels unproductive. It feels uncomfortable. And often, it feels unnecessary… at least from our perspective.
You know what I mean. If people would just get their act together, we wouldn’t have to wait so much.
But here’s what the Lord has been gently showing me: waiting forces dependence.
Waiting means I don’t get to swoop in and fix everything.
Waiting means I don’t get to control the outcome.
Waiting means trusting that God’s ways really are higher than mine—even when I don’t like the timeline.
Scripture says, “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.” (Isaiah 40:31)
Not run ahead of the Lord.
Not outpace Him.
Not pressure Him.
Wait.
And that’s the part that stretches us.
Because waiting doesn’t always mean we’ll get what we want. Sometimes God says yes. Sometimes He says no. And sometimes—often—He says wait. Not because He doesn’t know the answer (He’s omniscient), but because we need what waiting produces.
Lamentations puts it this way:
“The Lord is good unto them that wait for him… It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord.” (Lamentations 3:25–26, KJV)
Quietly is doing a lot of work in that passage. It says that with we can wait with HOPE. Hope that He is working all things together for good. Hope that He knows the steps I take. Hope that, in the end, He will always be there for me.
It also says that we should hope while we wait QUIETLY. Yikes. Now this is where I start to feel convicted.
Sure, I can wait, but I have to wait quietly?
I’ll be honest. I don’t do much quietly. I’m loud. An extrovert who loves to talk. And talk. And talk some more. And if I have to wait “too long,” well, you’re probably going to hear about it. Keeping it real here, folks.
Waiting well requires trust. It requires staying connected to the Lord rather than drifting into frustration or self-reliance. It asks us to believe that something good is still happening—even when nothing seems to be moving.
And sometimes, the waiting itself is the work.
So this year, I’m learning that waiting isn’t wasted time. It’s formative time. It’s strengthening time. It’s relationship-deepening time. And as much as I’d like to rush past it, I’m choosing to stay.
That’s my word.
Now I’d love to hear yours.
Reply and tell me what word you’re carrying into this year—and why. I can’t wait (yes, irony noted) to read them.
