Gentle

An approach to 2025

Perhaps the practice of picking a word for the year has grown tired and cliché. I’m embracing it anyway.

Yesterday, on the first day of the year, I thought back over the words I’ve picked in past years: intentional, still, space, hope.

Since early this fall, one word has echoed in my mind: GENTLE.

I want to approach 2025 not focused on achieving, grinding, and hustling but instead with gentleness for myself and others.

• I want to go for more walks, but to breathe fresh air, rather than track and count the miles.

• I want to cook more vegetables but to care for myself and my family, rather than for the sake of the scale.

• I want to read more books—and do less scrolling—but not just to hit an arbitrary book or page goal.

• I want to turn off the news more often, not in an act of apathy, but because it may allow me to love others better.

• I want to be more present with others, but with less expectation, making space for where they are.

• I want to say no to the offer to drink when I’m mindlessly following social norms, rather than considering what feels best for me.

• I want to keep baking bread, making homemade soup, and trying new recipes. I want to approach cooking as an act of care rather than a chore.

• I want to listen—and hear— my kids better.

• I want to pursue new adventures and wander to new places, and also embrace stillness and the quiet of home.

• I want to look for and expect joy in expected and unexpected places, in the ordinary and extraordinary moments.

I started my New Year’s morning by reading an essay on the Reformed Journal blog: “No Crumbs,” by Jennifer Holberg. It was just what I needed. I hope you’ll take a few minutes today to read it.

Holberg directed my attention to two bits of wisdom from two female writers I admire. The first, Nadia Bolz-Weber, who in a recent note celebrating her 33^rd year of sobriety here on Substack, observed: “The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that the opposite of gratitude isn’t ingratitude, it’s entitlement.”

That’s it, isn’t it? How do we approach 2025 with the kind of gratitude that propels us to recognize the gifts around us?

I’m not interested in pursuing the kind of gentleness I describe above for the sake of being nice but in an act of resistance to my worldly notions that if I do more, accomplish more, and add to my list of achievements, I’ll be more deserving of the love of God and others. I want to pursue gentleness because grace has already been given. Because it’s a posture of holding my hands open rather than grasping and grabbing for more.

Holberg also ended her blog post with this Mary Oliver poem, which I want to re-share here:

Joy is not made to be a crumb. Now that is a resolution.

Happy New Year.

Dana