3 Helpful Ways to Stay Connected to Your One Word
{One Word 2025 February Linkup}

Can you believe it’s been almost two months with your One Word? If your enthusiasm is starting to fade, now is a great time to find fresh ways to connect with your word.

Here are 3 simple ideas to try this coming month to keep your word alive in your daily life:  

1. SOMETHING TO HEAR  

Find a song with your word in the title or lyrics—maybe even write your own! Add it to a playlist, print out the lyrics, or learn to play it on an instrument.  

I’ve started a Ripple playlist on my phone to hear my word. I only have 6 songs on it so far. I started with “Ripple” by the Grateful Dead, but I’m not really a fan so I’ll probably delete that one. My favorite song so far is “The Waves We Give” by Beautiful Chorus.

“Be like water, my friend
You shall find a way around, or through it
When nothing within us stays rigid
We decide the shape we’re in”

Another favorite is “Underdog” by Alicia Keys. It never fails to move me.

“One conversation, a single moment
The things that change us, if we notice
When we look up sometimes”

2. SOMETHING TO SAY  

Look for a poem, quote, scripture, or book passage about your word. Read it aloud or record yourself reading it, then listen to it once a day for a week.  

I’ve gathered quite a few words related to Ripple. Here’s the poem I’m currently memorizing.

The Window
By Rumi

“Your body is away from me
but there is a window open
from my heart to yours.
From this window, like the moon
I keep sending news secretly.”

3. SOMETHING TO SEE  

Gather new visuals of your word and place them where you’ll notice them daily. Or challenge yourself to take a photo each day of something that reminds you of your word.  

Here are 4 of my daily photos of things reminding me of Ripple.

1. Gentle ripples on the lake behind my house

2. Old leaves rippling through the grass as the wind moves them along

3. I can’t remember where I found this photo, but it instantly reminded me of the word ripple—with wave after wave of executive orders issued in the U.S. over the past few weeks, each one ripples its impact through companies, communities, and families in countless ways

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4. The little pinwheel by my front walk ripples often when the wind blows

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Try these ideas yourself and see what you come up with.

The more you engage with your word through your senses, the more it will become a part of you.  

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Today’s linkup will remain open for two weeks from Tuesday, February 25, through Tuesday, March 11.

Our March linkup begins on Tuesday, March 25. We’ll have new challenges and a linkup on the 25th of each month throughout 2025—mark your calendars.  


How are you staying connected with your One Word for 2025? Please leave a comment here.

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Is Forgiveness Always Necessary? When My Kindle Starts a Debate

If the books on my Kindle could talk, I imagine they’d be deep in a heated debate right now. Two of the books I’m currently reading are Forgive for Good alongside You Don’t Need to Forgive.

On one hand, Forgive for Good makes the case for peace that comes with forgiveness. Fred Luskin writes:

“The most important benefit of forgiveness is our assertion that we are not victims of the past. We cannot change the past so we must find a way to resolve painful memories. Forgiveness provides the key to acknowledge the past and move on. When we can forgive we have less to be afraid of.”

But on the other hand, Amanda Ann Gregory writes in You Don’t Need to Forgive:

“My point is that forgiveness should not be regarded as a compulsory component of any trauma-recovering process, or as a prerequisite for ‘moving forward.’ . . . Forgiveness is not required to recover from trauma, but safety is.” 

I didn’t intentionally choose to read these books at the same time. But here they are, staring at each other every time I open my Kindle each morning, challenging me to hold two viewpoints at once.

They remind me that while some truths are black and white—actions speak louder than words, love is stronger than hate, holding a grudge is harmful—other things live in gray spaces.

  • Is forgiveness one of those gray areas?
  • Does recovery come only if there is forgiveness?
  • Is there a level of harm so great that forgiveness becomes an unfair burden to demand?

Both authors agree that when possible, forgiveness can be a healthy, healing process. Their disagreement seems to be whether forgiveness is the sole path to healing. (And another complicating factor is how you define forgiveness; it’s complex.)

But this is what I love about reading books that seem to contradict each other: they force me to ask questions beyond my initial assumptions. They require me to dig a little deeper than I would on my own.

My brain isn’t always happy about the challenge. It’s easier to stick with what we already know. Don’t challenge the status quo. Stick with the familiar stories.

But more often than not, wisdom comes from considering opposing ideas instead of packaging a quick resolution into tiny, tidy boxes.

So as my Kindle quietly hosts the ongoing debate on forgiveness (and more), I’ll also keep the conversation active in my own mind. Maybe I’ll come to a new conclusion. Or maybe not.

Either way, maybe the most important thing I’m learning is there may not be a final answer to every dilemma. Rewards come through staying open to the questions.

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Share your thoughts in the comments.


When You Can’t Repay

On a cold day a few weeks earlier, I sneaked her a little box of chocolates (these are just for you!) because I think every woman needs chocolate, right? I bought one for myself too. I tell her chocolate is one of my weaknesses.

It’s just a little thing you share when you spend time together.

Her family and mine have been friends for a few years. Her family has been in a pit for awhile. Once you fall too deep, it’s hard to climb back up.

So we help as we can. Not big things to us. Bigger to them.

One day we’re on a Walmart run together. She and I look at baby things; her husband and toddler slip off elsewhere.

We converge at the checkout.

Then her husband surprises me. He hands me this card he’s bought. It’s a beautiful sentiment of thanks.

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And she adds a Hershey’s candy bar at the checkout for me.

I want to refuse, No! Please, y’all, don’t do anything for me. You can’t afford it.”

But I understand that sometimes when you can’t pay back, you desperately want to at least say thanks.

And we should let ourselves be thanked. So I accept their gifts with humility.

Most of my friendships work in reciprocity: You treat me to dinner; I treat you to dinner. I buy you a Christmas gift; you have a gift for me. Round and round we go.

Until we can’t.

Sometimes a gift is is too big to repay in kind. I’ve received gifts that I could never repay. For those times, we need to stop trying to even things up, and just say thank you.

It works incredibly well.

Let go of the repayment guilt. And release the debt we hold over others. We can’t afford either one.

Love doesn’t work on a merit system.
The preferred exchange is grace.

Grace given. Grace received. Thank you very much.

So for my card, I say thank you very much. I’ll treasure it.

And the chocolate? I eat every delicious bite.

It’s all grace.

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Is it harder for you to receive grace or to give it? Please share in the comments.

revised from the archives


Why I Chose These 7 Objects for My One Word Jar

“No man ever steps in the same river twice. For it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”
– Heraclitus

I was staring at my laptop in the small office at my house. Our small group was about to close out our Zoom hour. The discussion had been rich and meaningful. This month’s focus was how we could incorporate our One Word of the Year into our daily lives, a passion project of my own.

Our final instructions before signing off were simple: in the next week, collect objects that symbolize our words and what we hope to gain from them.

I loved this idea immediately. Choosing a guiding word for the year has always been a powerful practice for me, but this exercise would make it even more tangible. It could turn my word—Ripple—into something to hold, see, and interact with.

Perhaps some objects could give me a new way to reflect on what I want to cultivate this year: legacy, movement, and the quiet ways that small actions create lasting change.

Over the next few days, I wandered through my home, searching for objects that resonated with Ripple and felt deeply personal to me.

I settled on these seven objects. They now sit inside a ripply-looking jar that I brought home from my uncle’s house after he passed last November.

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My cousin believes the jar may have once belonged to our grandmother before it rippled down to my uncle, and now to me. Even more perfect.

Here are the 7 objects in my One Word jar and why I chose them:

1. 2025 Calendar

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Time is fluid, moving forward like ripples in water. This calendar reminds me that every day this year is a fresh opportunity to be present. There will never be another day exactly like this one to participate in. [Read “Do You Write in Your Calendar with Ink or Pencil?“]

2. Years Past and Future

Past

Last December, I took “A Day Away” to reflect on 2024 and look ahead to 2025. One of the exercises (I followed the excellent schedule in this book) involved counting out one object (I used pennies) for each year I’ve been alive, reflecting on a memory from each year of life. It was a very moving experience. Afterwards, I placed these 62 coins representing my 62 years in a clear ball—a visual representation of my past ripples, moments I can’t undo, but that continue to shape the world around me.

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Future

The second half of the exercise was even more sobering. It asked me to count out coins for my remaining years. I arbitrarily chose 86 years as my lifespan (I’m being overly optimistic), so I added 24 more coins into a separate ball, curiously wondering how each of these years might unfold, one coin/year at a time. It is a reminder that I will continue to create ripples in the world with every passing year.

3. Nesting Dolls

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I bought these nesting dolls two years ago when my One Word was Human. I see them as a representation of the different versions of myself as I’ve grown and evolved. This year, they are serving as a reminder that my past selves ripple into the person I am today. Each version of me—child, teenager, young adult, middle-aged woman—still exists within me, influencing the current me.

4. Perfume Bottle

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My dear blogging friend Lynn gifted me this beautiful perfume bottle a few years ago. This year, I filled it with water, symbolizing the fluidity of life—how we are shaped by the forces around us yet contained within the experiences that define us.

5. Seashells

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The ocean is the ultimate ripple-maker. These shells remind me of the waves I’ve felt crash over my feet when I stand at water’s edge—a constant flow of movement and sound that cannot be stopped, no matter what. Life is always advancing. Everything changes.

6. Old Watch

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I found this old watch while cleaning out my uncle and aunt’s house, and I knew immediately it belonged in my jar as a reminder of ripples from my past. The lives of my ancestors (and current family) have definitely rippled into my own, shaping me in ways I can’t fully see, but that are undeniably real. My mother left behind many journal pages that I’ve yet to read; I hope to finally dive into those this year, continuing to allow the voices of my past to influence my present and future. [Read “Which Family Member Do You Wish You’d Know Better?“]

7. Stones

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These stones are the most literal representation of Ripple: throw a stone into water, and it sets off a chain reaction of movement. One small act always creates change—sometimes big, sometimes barely perceptible, but always something. [Read “Throw Your Rock in the Water: How Small Actions Create Big Ripples“]

Each of these objects tells a story individually, but together, they create a deeper tapestry of what Ripple means to me: As I’ve changed from who I once was to who I am now, I will continue to change into who I will be in the future.

I’ve placed this jar in the center of my dining room table, where I will see it daily. I hope it will remind me all year long that even my smallest actions and words matter. And yours, too.

The ripples we create—whether intentional or not—extend far beyond what we’ll ever see or imagine.

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If you have a One Word for this year, what small objects could represent its meaning to you? Or what objects remind you of my word Ripple? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Ripple - Read more here


Don’t Run Away from Grief; Learn to Swim Through It

It happened again. My dream. I have it while awake. And Saturday night I had it again while asleep: the dream that she walks back through our front door.

But as always, I wake up. And she hasn’t walked through the door after all.

I saw this quote on Instagram this weekend:

“If you simply can’t understand why someone is grieving so much, for so long, then consider yourself fortunate that you do not understand.”

Unfortunately, I understand such grief. On intense grief days, I wonder if it will ever get easier, lighter. If grief is ever finished.

But I’ve lived enough to know that grief has no definite timeline. That it can’t be rushed. That it will take as long as it takes.

That doesn’t mean I like it. Or, on many days, even accept it. I often still fight against it. I rail against this heavy grief, even though these wrestlings never help.

On those days, I try to give myself grace. I say these words from Martha Whitmore Hickman,

“I will not further burden myself by trying to fit some image of a ‘model griever.’ The strength I have is the strength to be myself.”

Even if this version of myself isn’t the me I want to be, it is the me that I am. She deserves my love and compassion.

It helps to remember I’m not the only one grieving today. All around the world, at this very second, there are millions of people who are grieving their own losses. And some people in my own small circle, too. We cry together. When life is hard, we normalize that it’s human to feel sad.

Dag Hammarskjöld once said,

“Life only demands from you the strength you possess. Only one feat is possible—not to have run away.”

So I even though I’d rather not still be grieving, I try not to run away from it. It’s stuck to me like glue anyway.

Vicki Harrison sums it up like this:

“Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.”

I swim another day.

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Are you grieving a loss today, too? We can grieve together. Share your thoughts in the comments.


I’m Only 70% Ready to Publish This Post

Am I a perfectionist? I didn’t think so. But when I misspelled Grammys as Grammies in a text to my friend last weekend, I couldn’t shake it.

“I set the DVR for the Grammies at 7, so come over whenever!”

It lingered in my mind long after I hit send. Should I correct it? Maybe follow up with a playful, self-aware text with a laughing face emoji, proving that I do, in fact, know the proper plurality of Grammy is Grammys?

I almost sent the follow-up text. More than once.

But then, I remembered something I’d read last week in a newsletter by Oliver Burkeman about the 70% rule—about how a 70% readiness is fine to put most things into the world, even if they feel unfinished, imperfect, or below our best. That idea stuck with me so much that I had actually written back to Burkeman (which I rarely do) applauding his work. (He even wrote me back—I’d say he went above 70% on that one.)

I’m currently making my way through Burkeman’s small book, Meditation for Mortals (25% so far), reading 1 chapter a day for the 28 days of February, even though it doesn’t feel like the perfect time to do so. I read his Four Thousand Weeks (all 100% of it) in 2021 (see my review here: “How to Win Your Fight with Time”) and it profoundly impacted me about the truth that I’ll never win my struggle with time, so just use this minute well instead.

But despite all that reflection, here I am, unable to let go of a minor spelling mistake in a casual text.

Why? Maybe because it’s uncomfortable to release things into the world that feel flawed. I don’t want to look foolish. Or lazy. Or even careless. I’d rather be perceived as smart and industrious and put-together.

But really? Are those my actual goals in life? And do those goals include proving I’m a flawless speller?

When I think about this hard enough—about my writing or anything else—I know those aren’t my goals at all. My goals are to live my values.

And those values include loving people, intentionally being kind and respectful, living at peace (as much as I can), and being compassionate with myself when I do it all imperfectly.

Perfect spelling is not on my values list.

So even though this blog post doesn’t feel quite finished to me—maybe I could share another anecdote, edit each word a bit more, restructure the arguments more logically—I’m going to take Burkeman’s advice and launch it into the world at feeling 70% ready instead of not sending it at all.

Not because I’m settling for less. But because I want to live more.

If the goal is to do the thing—to show up, to participate, to contribute—then done is not only good enough, it is perhaps even better than perfect.

Getting to perfect takes too long. It holds me back. But 70% allows me to engage right now, to put myself out here as I am today, flaws and all.

I’m not working for an A+ (even though I do love those, not gonna lie). Instead, I’m living for meaning, for connection, for purpose. And that doesn’t require perfect spelling.

The text was sent. The message was received. My goal was met.

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Does this resonate with you? Are you a recovering perfectionist, too? Share your thoughts in the comments.