My word of the year is less.
Less food, less stuff, less shopping, less picking my nose, less grinding my teeth, less talking about my dad's death, less bemoaning my failures.
Because less is more.
Less food means more energy. Less stuff means more space. Less shopping means more saving. Less picking my nose means more boogers. Just kidding. Less grinding my teeth means more biting my tongue. Less talking about my dad's death means more talking about my living Abba Father. Less bemoaning my failures means more praise for who I am in Christ.
Less idolatry, more worship. Less of what doesn't matter, more of what does. Less me, more Jesus.
Mind you, I'm not describing actions I'm going to take this year. I'm describing the way God is going to show up and continue to mold and shape me and conform me into the image of His Son, my amazing Healer and Faithful Redeemer.
So that's happy.
(Plus, I just got back from visiting Kimberley the Minimalist, so now I feel all inspired to copy her homemaking a lot. Hers and Jeana's.)