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Don’t Put It Off: 5 Questions to Ask Now to Discover Your 2026 Word
{One Word 2025 October Linkup}

By LisaNotes October 25, 2025 One Word Community, Ripple: One Word 2025 13 Comments

It’s hard to believe it’s time again—but yes, start tuning in for your One Word for 2026. (Read here if you want 6 easy AI prompts to help you choose your word.)

Begin with your 2025 word. Does it still have lessons to teach you? Maybe it’s pointing you in a similar direction for the new year. Or maybe you’re sensing the pull of something entirely new for a fresh start.

Either way, don’t wait until later to begin reflecting. Now is the perfect season to start noticing glimmers of what your next word might be.

Take a few moments over the next few weeks to listen: Is there a word—or maybe a theme—that seems to be inviting you closer?

5 Questions to Help You Find Your 2026 Word

Here are a few questions that might guide your reflection and help your next word reveal itself:

1. What felt EASY OR HARD about living with your 2025 word?

My word RIPPLE has been super easy. I see and hear it everywhere as do my friends, so it has stayed front of mind. 

2. Is there any UNFINISHED BUSINESS with your word—or are you ready to turn the page?

I’ll never be finished with Ripple (our ripples continue on even after we’re gone!), but I am excited to shift in a slightly different—yet similar—direction for 2026.

3. What CHANGES, CHALLENGES, OR DREAMS do you sense stirring for 2026?

Because I’ve felt more healing this year, I’d like a word next year that asks a little more of me (but not TOO much!).

4. Do you want your next word to feel BOLDER, SOFTER, steadier, or more expansive? (Or maybe something else entirely?)

I’d like my word to be a bit more active, yet equally as expansive as Ripple. 

5. Is there a word that keeps popping up—a REPEAT VISITOR that’s asking for a deeper look this time around?

Yes! I’ve been excited about two different words that continue coming to mind. I’m still deciding between the two (or maybe something completely unexpected?) for 2026. 

Bonus Reflection

Take a moment to trace your One Word journey from past years. Do you notice any patterns or recurring themes? Sometimes our next word is waiting in that thread of growth.

I collaborated with AI to write a poem using my One Words from the past 10 years. Here’s what we came up with!

Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear what YOU are beginning to sense for 2026. If you’d like, share your early ideas in the comments below. Add any updates about your old or new word from your own blog in our linkup. It’s open through Saturday, November 8.

Exploring new words is meant to be both fun and meaningful—it’s like giving yourself a small but powerful gift before the year-end rush begins.

Here’s to listening well and discovering what’s next. May your 2026 word find you right on time.

Do you see any glimmers yet of a 2026 One Word? Ready to share?

We’d love to hear in the comments.

Looking ahead: Our November linkup will open on Tuesday, November 25. Plan to join us with an update about your One Word.

If you’d like to receive our monthly One Word emails and ideas, join here any time of the year.

Link Up About Your One Word

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Ripples Through Time: Reading My Late Mother’s Words—Then My Own

By LisaNotes October 22, 2025 Encouragement, Personal Growth, Relationships, Ripple: One Word 2025 30 Comments

Years before my mother died, she wrote letters to each of her children. To be read after she died. I didn’t wait.

But she also left other writings behind. Last week, I finished reading the final page that I have of my mother’s journals, mostly centered in 1991. She knew her thoughts might be read one day, so she began with a disclaimer: these were simply her unfiltered thoughts, written to help her survive a difficult season.

As I turned those last few pages, I was surprised by the sadness that overcame me. Reading her thoughts had brought back a piece of her—she’s been gone since 2010—and renewed a conversation (albeit only one direction) that death had interrupted but not fully erased.

Words In Time

Because I was reading her journals, I started wondering about my own journals.

I’ve kept journals off and on my whole life. They’ve always been private—a secluded space to process life. But as I read my mother’s reflections, I couldn’t help wondering: if my own daughters read my journals one day, what story would they hear? What kind of ripples am I leaving behind?

So, I’ve decided to take a year and at least glance through my old journals, if not read them thoroughly. It’s an undertaking I may or may not get through, but here I go.

To start, I randomly pulled one from my shelf. On the first page, I saw the date: 1991.
The same year I had just finished reading about in my mother’s journals.

Two women, two generations, living side by side in time on the pages.

Same Year, Different Worlds

In 1991, my mom was struggling as a daughter herself to care for her aging father, my granddaddy, while balancing her other roles of wife, mother, and grandmother.

That same year, I was a newly single mom, caring for my toddler, and trying to figure out how to create a new life that was totally different than what I’d imagined it would be.

We were both hurting in our own worlds.

And even though we loved each other deeply and talked to each other often about many things in our lives, our private journals revealed an unspoken truth: we were protecting each other from the full weight of each other’s pain.

5 generations with my daughter, mother, grandfather

Me with my daughter, mother, great-grandmother, and grandfather

The Quiet Legacy of Ripples

As I read through my mom’s pages, I saw things that were both familiar and strange. I recognized the basic outline—I had known back then when she was traveling and what had been hard or easy each week—but I hadn’t known how much agony she was experiencing through the decisions she was having to make. (I would feel that same agony years later when we had to make similar decisions about her care.)

In my own pages, I’m reading things I both remember and have forgotten. Some things cause me to laugh out loud; other things make me cringe (I’ve ripped up and thrown out several pages already that I definitely don’t want my daughters to read).

Reading both journals at once is shifting the way I think about legacy.

Not the grand, headline-making kind that we often hear about—“Create your own legacy!”—but the quieter, more ordinary, and maybe more human kind.

We each create tiny ripples every day—through our words, choices, and even our silences about the heartaches and joys we share, and the ones we keep close.

Lessons from the Ripples

Here’s what I’m learning from reading both my mother’s and my own words:

  • Our words matter, even the unspoken ones.
    Not all words have to be spoken—sometimes writing the words gives us power enough to uncover complex truths, things we may not verbalize, but things that make a difference nonetheless.
  • We are both senders and receivers of ripples.
    My mom couldn’t have known that her scribbles from 34 years ago in 1991 would one day help me see both of us more clearly in 2025.
  • Pain can be a bridge of connection.
    Even though the specifics of my mom’s struggles and my own were different, the ache running through our stories was similar and universal.
  • The past voice can comfort the present self—and vice versa.
    Hearing my mom’s voice and rereading my own has shown me the progress I’ve made in some areas, but also revealed how some things remain just the same. I can be compassionate toward each of those selves.

The Work of Words

I wish I could, but I can’t go back in time and be more aware of my mother’s hardest days, or be kinder to the fragile woman I was myself in those years.

But I can honor both of them now.

I can thank them—the woman she was, and the woman she raised—for doing their best with what they knew then.

Without realizing it, we were both rippling through time—catching old waves and creating new ones. Offering grace, making memories, and spreading love in the ways we knew how.

The Ripples Continue

Whether words in a journal are ever read again or quietly fade away through time, we can trust they’ve done their work.

They’ve met their purpose—helping shape who we are, who we’re becoming, and what we’re sending out into the world.

One sentence at a time, they continue to ripple throughout time, whispering:
We were here. And we mattered.

Who has rippled the most into your life—and who do you want to ripple into? Share your thoughts in the comments.

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When You Can’t Get in the Game: Finding Purpose from the Bleachers

By LisaNotes October 17, 2025 Encouragement 14 Comments

“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”
—Viktor E. Frankl

Sitting in the Bleachers

Sometimes I have dreams that I’m sitting in some bleachers. Just watching a game. A spectator. Maybe cheering, maybe emotional about who is winning or losing.

A set of empty bleachers at night

In some of those dreams, the bleachers begin to tip backward, and we all begin to fall out (although I usually wake up before I hit the ground). Other times, I almost drop something through the cracks beneath my feet.

I awake from these dreams feeling uneasy—because even in waking life, sitting in the bleachers doesn’t always feel safe to me.

When You Can’t Get in the Game

When I’m a spectator in the bleachers, I have no control over how the game is played. I can’t advise the players. I can’t referee the calls.

I can only sit and watch.

A crowd of people sitting in the bleachers watching a game

Our culture shouts, Get in the game! And often, that’s good advice. I’m currently even memorizing Teddy Roosevelt’s “Man in the Arena” speech to remind myself that courage belongs to those who show up and participate.

But not every game is ours to play.

Not every work is ours to do.

Some games we simply can’t play right now—whether by choice or circumstance. Sometimes the best we can do is sit in the stands and watch and cheer for those who actually are on the field.

One person sitting alone in the bleachers

Finding Purpose from the Sidelines

It’s humbling. It can feel powerless.

Yet I’m learning that being in the bleachers doesn’t mean I’m disconnected. I can still pay attention.

From the stands, I can see the whole field. I can notice things I’d miss if I were on the field. Distance sometimes bring clarity that can’t be achieved close up.

Sitting out also can be a time of healing. A place to rest, to regain strength for when it is our turn to play again. The bleachers may be the safe place we need to recover from previous grueling games. Protection, not punishment.

And sometimes? Sitting in the bleachers means I can turn away from the game and talk to my friends; I can go to the concession stand and get popcorn; I can leave early if the game is too slow or a blowout.

While the bleachers may feel torturous when we want to play, with a reframing of perspective, maybe the bleachers can become exactly where we need to be. At least for now.

And when a new game begins that is ours to play, maybe we’ll be more ready than ever to get in the game.

Teammates huddled together ready to get in the game

When have you found yourself sitting in the bleachers—watching instead of playing—and what did you learn from it? Share your thoughts in the comments.

How to Grow a Long Joyspan: Why Older Can Truly Mean Better

By LisaNotes October 14, 2025 Book reviews 22 Comments

Do you know Sister Jean?

Sister Jean during the 2018 NCAA Tournament, when Loyola Chicago went on a Cinderella Final Four run

I first discovered Sister Jean in 2018 as I was watching March Madness, the annual NCAA Division I men’s basketball tournament.

At 98 years old, she was cheering on her favorite team, Loyola University Chicago, as they reached the semifinals as a Cinderella Final Four team (they later lost to Michigan). As the team chaplain, she knew the players by name, led them in pregame prayers, and knew the scoop on their opponents.

I watched for Sister Jean on TV every year after that.

But last week on October 9, 2025, Sister Jean died. She was 106 years old. What an amazing life she had lived.

Maybe you have someone in your family like Sister Jean.

Or maybe you also know someone who is older but instead of being the life of the party, they are the grouchy one.

Grandmother with granddaughter and great-granddaughter

This is my grandmother who lived another 10 years after this photo, dying at 97 years old. (She was never grumpy around me.)

As we age, none of us want to become the grumpy older person; we’d rather be a Sister Jean. But how do we become that way?

If the question intrigues you, you might enjoy Dr. Kerry Burnight’s new book Joyspan: The Art and Science of Thriving in Life’s Second Half as much as I did.

Burnight, known as “America’s Gerontologist,” writes with warmth and humor. Her well-researched message is simple yet profound: we don’t want to just live long (lifespan) or even just remain healthy (healthspan); what we really want is to enjoy living however long we have (joyspan).

Challenging the Anti-Aging Industry

You already know that our culture is obsessed with youth. It’s hard to find a pleasant birthday card to give an older person that isn’t a lewd joke about being over the hill. In advertising, we’re surrounded by products that promise to reverse aging. They play into our fears of getting older.

And often it works.

To counter that, Burnight says:

“People spend their lives trying not to age, trying not to die. Why not try to live instead?”

In her view, joy comes not from erasing your wrinkles but from nurturing your “ageless qualities,” like kindness, curiosity, humor, and resilience.

Quote on beauty of growing older from Joyspan

Redefining Aging: From Fear to Fulfillment

Joyspan again and again reinforces the idea of living better, not just longer. Burnight says that joy in later life isn’t accidental—it’s an “inside job.”

She outlines four practical actions that people with long joyspans consistently take:

1. Grow
Growth might mean learning a new skill.

2. Connect
Connection could be as simple as making time for old friends—or finding new ones of different ages.

3. Adapt
Adaptation helps you meet life’s challenges with flexibility

4. Give
Giving feeds your sense of purpose.

The book is full of great suggestions under each category for practicing these skills.

The Gifts of Growing Older

Your body will decline as you age. There’s no denying that. But Joyspan points out other things that actually strengthen over time:

  • emotional stability,
  • spiritual depth,
  • problem-solving wisdom,
  • and the freedom of not caring as much what other people think about you.

Burnight says science backs this up—studies show older adults often experience greater well-being and emotional balance than younger adults.

5 generations in a family

This is my daughter, me, my mother, my grandfather, and my great-grandmother, who lived to be over 100. She was very pleasant, active, and a joy to be around until the end.

Love as the Final Word

But to me, the book’s most powerful truth might be this one: love endures. Even when your body and health fade, your capacity to love—to mentor, to comfort, to show up in whatever ways you can—lives on.

To grow that direction for later, though, start living that way now. Whatever your age, be intentional to live with joy, purpose, and connection, even alongside life’s sorrows that are also bound to come.

Most of us won’t be traveling to basketball games at 98 years old like Sister Jean did. And we probably won’t live to be 106.

But like Sister Jean, we can hopefully make our older years as meaningful and joyful as possible.

Perhaps our best days aren’t behind us. They may still be ahead.

Are you one and/or do you have joyful older people in your family?

Share your thoughts in the comments.

My thanks to NetGalley for the review copy of Joyspan

Have You Made a To-Dread List? Stop Procrastinating with This Surprising Trick
—How naming what you dread can actually make life easier

By LisaNotes October 10, 2025 Productivity 12 Comments

Woman bent over computer looking at her to-do list

We all do it—avoid the hardest things on our to-do lists.

So I cringe when I read this action item in Time Anxiety, a new book I’m reading by Chris Guillebeau:

Make a “To-Dread List.”

It’s like a to-do list but for all the things you’re trying to avoid.

Sticky notes with procrastination phrases on a cluttered clock

I glance at my regular to-do list for ideas to add to my to-dread list. I find several things I’ve been carrying over for a long time that would be perfect for a to-dread list.

Some are simple.

But then there are more emotionally complicated tasks for my to-dread list.

  • Decide what pictures go on the newly painted walls
  • Clean up storage on my laptop
  • Start thinking about Christmas gifts

And then I also have the bigger projects, the ones I haven’t even put on a list anywhere.

  • Clean out the attic
  • Sort through files in the basement
  • Digitize old home videos

Granted, not everything has to get done. Maybe the attic can stay as it is until I die.

But Guillebeau makes a good point about procrastinating:

“If you want to feel better, face more and avoid less.”

Procrastination is often just avoidance. And avoidance catches up with you eventually.

So maybe it’s time to prioritize my to-dread list.

  1. Maybe I could tackle one item per month.
  2. Or at least take a baby step or two on a few items.
  3. And perhaps delete altogether what doesn’t really matter—not every to-dread item deserves my energy.

Doing dreaded things isn’t fun. But not doing them isn’t great either. They linger in our minds, clogging up mental space, or else they slip through the cracks altogether, causing more work later than if we’d just done them and moved on.

Feet on start-now arrow to avoid procrastinating

Until this year, we’d forever put off our house repainting and new flooring project because . . . well, it just felt overwhelming. But now that it’s done? I wake up every morning so happy to place my feet on soft new carpet, and my eyes on clean walls instead of scuffs and marks.

The dreaded hassle was really a thing. But the rewards have been more than worth it.

So maybe I’ll add one more item to my To-Dread List:

Face more and avoid less.

It’s ironic—but if I can practice it, maybe I’ll finally get to cross it off.

What’s something on your “to-dread list” that might bring relief if you did it? Share your to-dreads in the comments.

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When to Ignore GPS (and Listen to Yourself Instead)
- A digital road sign, a scary hill, and the wisdom of trusting yourself

By LisaNotes October 7, 2025 Encouragement, My stories, Technology 26 Comments

It’s the strangest road sign I’ve seen yet.

Jeff and I are driving on I-40 East in North Carolina, where several roads are still a mess after Hurricane Helene barreled through with all her water in September 2024.

Curving North Carolina mountain road symbolizing life’s detours

Seeing digital road signs along this stretch isn’t unusual.

But this one? Definitely is.

A Road Trip Flashback

It takes my mind back to an earlier drive . . .

I am driving alone to spend the weekend with friends in Chattanooga. I am completely dependent on GPS.

If it says, “Turn left,” I turn left. “Go right,” and I go right.

But at one intersection when it says, “Go straight,” I balk for the first time.

The Scary Road Ahead

The road ahead looks impossibly steep—a road straight out of my nightmares. My toes tingle; my fear of heights kicks in.

Thankfully, the traffic light is red. I have a minute to think.

Do I:

  • Obey the GPS and go straight when the light turns green?
    Or
  • Venture off on my own, turn left (or right?), and risk getting completely lost?

The light changes. My foot taps the gas—but my hands won’t stay steady.

Going Rogue

I won’t go straight.
I take a hard left turn.
I can’t take orders this time—I’m going rogue.

But as I do, questions flood my mind:

  • Will my ETA slip into the next hour?
  • Will I run out of fuel if I have added mileage?
  • Will I end up hopelessly lost in the hills of Chattanooga?

I wait for the GPS voice to chime in with its scolding: “Rerouting…rerouting…”

Close-up of a GPS screen showing rerouting directions

Listening to Me

Sometimes we just have to listen to our own voice instead of an external authority.

Self-trust is a valuable resource. And even though it can sometimes lead us astray, over time it can also become wisdom—earned the hard way.

Ultimately, we’re each responsible for our own decisions.

While we may occasionally share the blame of a bad choice—with a faulty app or stinky advice or simply poor judgment on our part—in the end, trusting our eyes and following our values usually gets us where we’re meant to go . . . even if it takes a few extra turns.

The Surprising Outcome

I look back at my GPS again.

Before the turn, my ETA was 3:41 p.m.
After the “wrong” turn? Still 3:41.

My heart rate slows again.
My blood pressure goes down.
My confidence goes up.

That scary, steep road hadn’t been necessary after all. I didn’t need it. I could reach my destination just fine without it.

I follow the GPS for the rest of the trip though—grateful for its guidance, but now knowing I don’t have to obey it blindly.

Back to the Present

Now, driving through North Carolina, that Chattanooga memory makes me laugh. The digital sign we just passed isn’t meant to be funny, but it makes me laugh, too.

I pull out my phone for a quick photo, but I’m too late.

Still, Jeff and I will remember it—and laugh about it—for a long time.

What did the sign say?

“Do not follow GPS!”

Have you ever blindly followed GPS into a field or around in circles? Sometimes it’s best to *not* follow directions—like trying to drive down a closed road on I-40E (though I hear it’s partially open again!).

Share your thoughts in the comments.

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