It's late...or maybe it's early. In any case, sleep is not happening.
My word looms over me and asks to be said aloud.
What are you talking about, Girl? You really are tired... Let me explain.
On the cusp of the new year I pick a word, a theme for my life in the upcoming year. It is something that I started doing a few years ago on New Year's Eve while sitting around with some beautiful friends musing about life and the future. Two words that stick out to me from previous years are 'joy' and 'brave'. Joy coming on the tail end of grief and brave biting at the heels of incredible fear. Brave was last year's word. It was fitting. Brave was the shove I needed to start my own coffee roasting business. Brave launched me into a different country and new experiences. Brave faced my fear of dogs and helped me walk the streets of El Salvador which are laden with canines without having a nervous breakdown. Brave has helped me say words that I would have rather kept locked in my own brain. Brave has nourished and boosted my confidence when I felt like I had no leg to stand on. Brave has been quite a ride. Which brings me to my new word and this moment.
I see it written in wispy, filmy silvery threads over a unassuming runty pig named 'Wilbur'. I also see it written over me. My hope for humble is not really for the change that I know that it most certainly will bring in my life; it's more for the freedom that will be unleashed when pride is overturned.
Dang, Girl...it's about time!
The freedom that humble brings has no strings attached, no proving myself worthy, no judgment or comparisons to others, no responsibilities to the ambitions of others, no self-righteous anger, no drama-queen antics, no justifications, no point-proving.
Humble is a huge sigh of relief.
Humble is freedom to love and be loved.
Humble is the me that gets to let go.
Welcome 'humble'. Let's get this party started!