A few weeks ago, we visited a small church. As part of the service four tables or stations with reflective activities were set up around the room.  At one of the station there were thin slices of tree trunk on which we were invited to write a word of the year. I chose the word, “trust”.

Trust is my comfort food of words like hot bowl of chili on a cold night.

_____

Last night as we gathered around the table with our nomadic friends I was surprised when someone brought up “word of the year”. We went around the circle sharing our words. When it was my turn I went to my old standby, “trust”.

Trust is a an important word to me.

It’s oxygen to my soul.

But trust can also be like a soft warm bed. It can be so cozy that it becomes more of an excuse to sleep the days away rather than the faith that the bridge will hold when you cross it.

As 2013 grew closer by the minute, another friend gently questioned my word of the year as if it might be a cop out.

It was.

It’s not that I don’t doubt my future and my purpose from time to time but over the years I have learned that things do work out. I’ve learned I can lean into God and he mysteriously carries me out of life’s fires. Slowly but steadily, I’ve learned to trust more than fear. We wouldn’t have left our comfortable life in Ventura for a life on the road if I didn’t have a fair amount of trust.

I quickly came up with a new word “confidence”. A word which, if you think about it, is really only a few steps from trust. Another friend suggested, “acceptance.” Hmmmm…acceptance is always good and I certainly could use a little more self acceptance.

The clock struck 12. Brent and I shared our first kiss of 2013. We headed back to our RV and tumbled into bed.

_____

Around 4 am, I awoke and heard a whisper over my pounding headache, “Movement.”

Movement.

My word of the year.

It’s a bit ironic if you think about it. We are full time travelers in an RV and rarely stay more than two weeks in one place. We are always on the move.

But I heard it over and over again as I lay in bed my skull splitting from too many glasses of wine.

Movement. Movement. Movement.

Then I realized even though we spent last year on the move visiting over half the states in our country, I’ve been stuck.

Stuck in a rut in my mind.

For a long time.

_____

Yesterday morning, my family and I sat around the table writing down areas of character we would like to see grow, things we would like to experience, places we would like to go, and skills we would like to learn this year.  The first thing I wrote on my list was “follow through”.

Following through = Movement

I also wrote that I wanted to learn to play the guitar. I got a guitar for my birthday more than 10 years ago and I’ve been wanting to pick it up since.

Strumming = Movement

I’ve been repeating stories in my head for years. Stories that I want to get out of my head and onto paper.

Writing = Movement

I’ve been wanting to deepen my relationship with and understanding of God.

Prayer and Study = Movement

Of course, there is my goal to walk 3,000,000 steps in 2013 because movement matters.

Walking = Movement (Quite literally ;-))

Then there was the kicker.

“You trust so you can move,” said the whisper.

For a few weeks, a particular quote has been coming to my mind repetitively.

“A ship in the harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.” – most often attributed to John Shedd

Ships are meant to sail not to stagnate.

Movement.

Movement of the body.

Movement of the mind.

Movement of the soul.

This year I’m challenging myself to sail out of the harbor and brave the rough waters because I know a God who will calm the sea.

First there is trust.

Then comes movement.

Do you have a word of the year? Happy New Year!!!

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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Journey with our family on the road at New School Nomads as we travel fulltime in RV through the United States!

The post My Word of the Year: Movement appeared first on Girl Heroes.

Thank you for all the advice and thoughts in dealing with Halloween candy.  I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said all week and decided, since Halloween the “sugar season” kickoff, I’d like to delve into the issue more.

I have a younger sister.  She is my best friend.  We have the same biological parents.  We grew up in the same house in the same decade.  (Mostly.  She missed the 70s by 4 years which means I’m cooler.)  We even shared a room growing up until I tried to throw her out of the window but that’s a story for another time.  We’ve stood side my side in the mirror comparing our bodies and it’s crazy how much they look alike.  We could almost trade heads and no one would know the difference.  For all the similarities in nurture there are a great many differences in nature.  She’s a saver.  I’m a spender.  She lives a few miles from where we grew up.  I live a few thousand miles from where I grew up.  She’s rational.  I’m irrational adventurous.  She can eat a few pieces of candy and then stop.  I can eat a few pounds of candy and then stop.  Every Halloween, I would eat all my candy in a matter of days. DAYS. Jess, however, would dump her candy in her “candy drawer” where it would sit for years.  YEARS.  “Occasionally“, I would sneak in to steal some and the chocolates would look white as they were so old.  It didn’t stop me.  It was still sugar.  I didn’t (and still don’t) understand how she kept a drawer FULL of candy year round.

I have two sons.  They are best friends.  They have the same biological parents.  They are growing up in the same house in the same decade.  They share a room.  Thankfully, my oldest has never tried to throw the youngest out the window.  Their little bodies look almost identical.  But you what?  Yep.  Their personalities are as different as night and day, as is, their reaction to sugar.  My oldest will eat sugar until he is sick.  He has never not finished a candy treat.  On the other hand, my youngest, leaves half eaten pieces of candy lying around to be thrown away.  We go out for ice cream and my oldest eats his before my youngest has even taken 5 bites.  Brent usually ends up finishing it.

It is with these differences that I struggle when it comes to parenting and sugar.  I could give them all their candy and the oldest would eat it ALL within days making himself sick. Breaking my heart in the process as I watched him be overcome by the never ending cravings.  My youngest would eat a few pieces until he lost interest and it would sit getting old like the candy in the hoarder’s my sister’s drawer.

My journey with sugar has been a long one.  It has been more bitter than it has been sweet.  Just being honest.  It took me 30 years to get to the place I am now but, oh, the things I’ve learned about myself on this bittersweet journey.   In the comments, Lisa from I’m an Okie said this, “At least you know yourself and your limitations and you are ok with it. That’s huge I think. Just being ok.” I am ok with my limitations.  She is right.  To come to this place of accepting my limitations and being okay with them is huge.  I do not apologize for my choice to not eat refined sugar.  I do not feel weird when everyone orders dessert and I order tea. I do not mind saying no thank you when someone offers me a treat.  It’s my body and I know it and enjoy caring for it.

Sugar is weird.  It’s can be as innocent as the sweet elderly lady next door and as addictive as heroin.  It’s loved and hated.  It’s celebrated and cursed.  And for some of us it is a curse.  I’ve found my peace with it.  My hope is my oldest son does too.  I’ve been in his shoes.  I understand.  So I do the only thing I can, my best.  I reach out for advice.  (Thank you!) I teach what I know.  I try to lead by example.  But at some point he will have to make his own choices.  It is his body, not mine.  As crazy as it may sound, I think it comes down to faith and in 30 years, I hope I will look back and laugh.  Laugh at making such a big deal out of nothing because everything will be still be ok.  And that’s huge.

Hugs and High Fives,
Jenn

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