Learn A New Fact About Your One Word
{One Word 2023 September Linkup}

Link all of your ONE WORD blog posts below. Share an update about your One Word in the comments.

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You and your One Word 2023 have been together for 9 months. You’ve likely learned a lot from it.

But is still there more to learn during the last quarter of 2023?

Of course!

Look up your One Word on Wikipedia or a resource of your choice. See if you can discover 2 or 3 new facts about your word.

  • What’s a new fact you learned about your word?
  • Does it change how you view your word? 
  • Does it gives you a new idea for practicing your word? 

For my word HUMAN, this is what I learned.

  • New fact (to me):
    Humans are also among the best long-distance runners in the animal kingdom, but slower over short distances.
  • How it changes my view:
    It gives me a greater appreciation for a human’s ability to endure something for the long haul, and less concerned that we may be slower than we’d like in the short run. 
  • New way to practice Humaning:
    Give more grace to myself and others when we’re slow to change. Imagine how much a situation or person can grow over 10 years (for example), instead of focusing on 10 days, 10 weeks, or even 10 months.

We want to know if you find anything new or if it confirms what you already know. Leave a comment below or link any of your own One Word blog posts. 

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This September linkup for One Word updates will remain open for two weeks, closing at midnight on Saturday, October 7. Each link shared here will also be shared with our One Word Facebook group

Next month’s One Word linkup will open on Monday, October 23.

If you’d like to receive our monthly One Word emails and ideas, .


What new fact have you learned about your One Word this year? Leave a comment here about your One Word.

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You’re Going to Fall. Get Back Up (Again).
—Grace & Truth Linkup

Transportation

It’s about to be dark outside. Yet I’m still not home. I know it takes four hours in the car to drive from Mississippi to Alabama.

But I’m not in a car.

I’m on a tricycle.

Thankfully, I wake up. It was a dream. It’s a recurring one. I often dream about wacky modes of transportation, trying to get from here to there.

I laugh about these dreams when I’m awake. But when I’m asleep, the slow progress and the looming distance ahead in inadequate vehicles are torturous.

Stay Awake

That’s why I need to read authors like Mark Nepo in my non-sleep hours. He keeps me awake to my real life so I can move forward, even when it’s hard.

And it’s been hard the past two years. I keep falling down, only to have to get back up again. And again. And again.

So this latest book by Mark Nepo is right on time: Falling Down and Getting Up: Discovering Your Inner Resilience and Strength.

Nepo frames our challenges as opportunities for deepening. He asks us to befriend our fears, pains, and griefs, not be crippled by them.

How? Like many spiritual teachers, Nepo advices that one way is to stay present in this moment because fear gains its power from the future and the past.

“Strength and resolve are always restored through the complete surrender of our naked attention.”

So stay aware of now. Pay attention to this. Face life here. 

Fear gains its power from not looking. Consider the proverbial boogeyman in the closet. The longer we don’t look, the bigger the boogeyman gets. Until some kind grandfather or aunt takes us by the hand, saying, ‘Well, why don’t we take a look in there, together?'”

Begin Again

And after we look under the bed—even if what we see causes us to fall down again—get back up, and be willing to accept help as needed.

“While nothing can minimize the pain and loss that comes from falling down, nothing can keep us from helping each other up.

We all have falls. Many falls. But the damage comes when we refuse to get back up.

So be willing to begin again. Open to where you are.

And do it often. I have to choose each day to begin again.

Not Here to There, But In to Out

Fortunately, it’s highly unlikely that I’ll ever have to travel from Mississippi to Alabama on a tricycle. That’s just for my nightmares. But even if I did, by beginning again each day, I’d eventually make it.

This journey through life—one that we each are on—might feel as daunting as riding a skateboard or a unicycle through mountainous terrain (yes, I’ve had those dreams, too). But as Nepo writes in Falling Down and Getting Up:

“The inescapable truth is that we don’t travel from here to there, but from in to out.”

You bring what lives within you out into the world each time you get back up again.

It’s less about where we’re going but how we’re growing.

Get back up again today and see.


Do you have crazy transportation dreams, too? Share your thoughts in the comments.

My thanks to NetGalley + St Martin’s
Press for the review copy of this book.

I’m linking at these blog parties

grace-and-truth-weekly-christian-linkup-friday

Grace & Truth Featured Post

I’m grateful for books that help me get back up. What are you grateful for? Read our featured post this month by Lynn Simpson to open new possibilities for yourself through a gratitude practice.

Read all of Lynn’s post here at her blog.

The Power of Gratitude – Receive New Possibilities

Now link up your own blog posts below. 


Review the rules here about adding your most recent Christian Living posts and how to be the Featured Post. Visit all four hosts social media here or websites here: Maree Dee, Lisa notes, Lauren Sparks, Tammy Kennington.

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Click here to enter

When You Can’t Offer a Guarantee, Cry About It

Her Grandson Was Murdered

As we chat on her balcony, I see the tears pooling in my friend’s eyes. She’s worried about about her adult daughter, the one whose son died a year ago because another boy shot a bullet instead of throwing a fist when he got annoyed.

My friend still feels the heavy grief herself. The teenage boy was her only grandson.

But the most urgent emotion rising in her throat this afternoon is helplessness. She knows her daughter is struggling hard with the absurdity of her son’s murder. Of the lack of quick justice in the courts. Of her searching but finding no meaning through it all.

As the mother of this daughter in pain, my friend doesn’t know what to do.

As she pauses her story, I want to fill in the gap with a guarantee, that everything will be okay, that this will work out fine in the end.

But I can’t do that.

I feel helpless, too.

Things We Can’t—and Can—Do

I have no fix for her pain. I have no solution for her daughter mourning her son fresh in the grave. I have no words that can explain why this happened and what will happen next.

In moments like these I am most aware of our shared humanity. Here we stand, my friend and I, fellow survivors in the messy middle of other humans also trying to survive.

So I simply bear witness to her pain. I see her wounds. I allow my eyes to weep, my tears to blend with hers.

Humans need to be in the presence of other humans as they hurt.

The Gift of Shared Pain Is Connection

See it as a gift when someone shares their pain with you. Hold their burdens with tenderness, with holiness, with care.

Yes, it might make you sad, too, as you validate another person’s aches. But it will also connect you. Allow it to fulfill one of your missions here as a human being: to connect with other human beings—through kindness and grace and compassion.

Connecting with others strengthens us to walk through our own sadness, too. Connecting is one of our most valuable powers to heal our breakings.

And sometimes, connecting is the most human thing we can do.

  • We need human hands to rest on our shoulders with a gentle squeeze.
  • We need human faces to turn toward ours as they listen.
  • We need human eyes to to leak salty water as they mirror our own wet eyes.

Being together feels better than being alone. We need to know we’re not the only human in the room.

Hold On to That Wispy Thread

After a bit, my friend’s mood shifts ever so slightly. She still remains worried, sad, even fearful of what she might have to face in the days ahead with her daughter as they both continue to grieve.

But my hope is that she feels a little less alone today in those emotions. Presence is more authentic than any false guarantee I can offer.

At the door, we hug goodbye. I step away from this holy moment. But I’ll keep holding my friend close.

In the crisscrossing of thin places, the wispy thread of connection is stronger than it looks. It bears weight.

Hold on to it for dear life. Because all of life is dear, even in our sadness.

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I continue to ponder on my One Word of the Year, Human. What does human connection mean to you?

Share your thoughts in the comments.

Read more:

  • Sit with the Pain
    Those who sit with us as we sit with pain are those we remember. Pain will never be my best friend, but it leads me into the presence of those who are.
  • Camera On or Off? How to Bear Witness
    I search for the “camera off” button. I don’t want to be seen today. But her plea changes me.
  • How Does It Feel to Be Alone?
    My grandson is about to be born. I feel alone. Until I hear footsteps. I look up. It’s not who I expect.


Take Your Foot Off First Base

Last Thursday night I was watching our minor league Trash Pandas baseball player on first base. He had his sliding mitt on. Let’s wait for the steal.

As I sat in the stands, I was reminded again why I’d have made a horrible baseball player (besides the obvious reason of lacking necessary skills).

There’s this weakness I have: if the time came for a steal, I might have been too scared to leave first base to head to second.

Baseball players have to be able to take chances. In pitching, batting, fielding. And they also have to be brave enough to leave first base to run to second.

Just ask Rickey Henderson.

When First Things Aren’t Enough

Rickey Henderson was considered one of the most exciting players in baseball (he was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 2009).

And it’s not because he played it safe.

What did Rickey do that we can learn from? He wasn’t afraid to give up first things.

But I am often reluctant to let go of first things. It’s uncomfortable to give up things I’ve always known, even when I learn differently.

Why leave a warm, secure base? Because unless I take my foot off first, I’ll never run to second.

That’s what Rickey Henderson did so well. He still holds the record for most stolen bases and runs in Major League Baseball. He was successful in stealing 1,406 times in his career, earning the nickname the “Man of Steal.”

Rickey Henderson

But there was always a risk involved. A player who tries to steal a base can be picked off or thrown out. Then instead of putting your team in scoring position, you hurt them by adding another out.

Yet to make no forward progress only hurts the team even more.

We have to be willing to move on to the better thing instead of clinging to the known thing.

3 Ways to Move On to Second Things

How can we grow from first things to second things?

1. Let the first thing propel you to the second.

When a baseball player makes it to first base, he doesn’t relax and take a seat. He stays engaged. He’s alert to the next person at bat, to the next pitch, to the base coach. He doesn’t want to stay at first; he wants to progress to second.

Learn that the first thing might just be a stepping stone to the next thing.

2. Start with behaviors (rules) but grow into motives (love).

Young children in Little League baseball and softball first learn the basics: how to hit, where to run, how to catch. But learning the rules is only part of the game. The truly passionate baseball players, the ones that stay with the game for years to come, fall in love with it.

When we’re young, we learn to adhere to the rules. We check boxes to receive rewards. But as we mature, our motives hopefully grow beyond mere obedience into a genuine love.

Love keeps us engaged in the game.

3. Use your skills but don’t depend solely on them.

While the best baseball players need to be coordinated, quick, and aggressive, they also have to rely on the help of others to be truly successful. Each player need constructive feedback from their coaches, coordination from managers, advice from other players.

We’ve each been gifted with a set of skills, too. They may serve us well, but our success doesn’t depend on what we do alone; we need our community to keep us straight.

Making It Home

It happened in the fourth inning on May 1, 1991. The Oakland Athletics were playing the New York Yankees at the Oakland Coliseum.

Rickey Henderson of the A’s got on first base, then advanced to second on a single. To progress to the next base, he didn’t wait for a hit. He sped off second and stole third, breaking Lou Brock’s old record of 938 stolen bases.

He pulled the base itself out of the ground, lifted it above his head in celebration, and waved to the crowd as he received a standing ovation.

[Watch the video here]

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Rickey didn’t just play baseball. He loved baseball.

Watching the Trash Pandas Thursday night, I never saw the guy on first steal to second. Maybe next time.

Stepping off first base may not always be easy. But do it and run to second base when you can. Running all the bases eventually leads home.

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Share your thoughts here.

Revised from the archives


Are You Offended? Next Time I’ll Keep Mine in Check

I hated to leave the good conversation. We’d been encouraging each other as fellow human beings to spread more kindness in the world. But our time was up. I got in my car to drive to my next stop.

Traffic was heavy. I needed to merge into the far right lane. But another car in the lane was coming up quickly. I turned on my blinker. I obviously needed a favor. Please let me over.

But the little red car wouldn’t let me in. I saw the driver glance at me. He had made his decision. He’d offer no grace today.

I felt my body reacting. The previous good feelings from the last hour’s camaraderie disappeared.

When the driver beside me caught my eye again, my arms flew up to say, “What do you think you’re doing???”

And I didn’t care.

That’s when I knew I’d officially crossed over into “I’m SO offended!” mode.

I no longer felt like the nice human I wanted to be, but rather a persnickety one. The kind that gets on my own nerves.

I didn’t like it.

I finally merged over and made my right turn. I looked ahead for the red car. Would I pull up beside him at the red light? Did I need to offer an apology gesture for my previous outburst?

He was long gone. Maybe he’d already forgotten the incident. Maybe he was already where he wanted to be.

But I wasn’t. I checked my mood. I reframed my perspective. I’d rather get cut off in traffic then turn into a meanie on the road.

Sometimes we do have legitimate reasons to be offended. I’ve been there; you have too. We need to address those incidents and clear the air.

But this episode in traffic was not one of those times.

And this human does not want to be one of those people so easily offended.

So I’m sorry, fella. And I’m sorry, self. Next time I hope to keep my arms—and my offense—in check.

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Share your thoughts in the comments.