Why Resolutions Fail Me

New Year’s Resolutions rarely work. In my case, make that never. I should probably call them the First Two Weeks of January Resolutions because that’s about how long I last. 

Consistency is not my strong suit. Impulsivity is.

But I can’t deny that the beginning of the year holds a sense of renewal. A chance to refresh priorities and the hope that I can change my life in some meaningful way. Of course, this is promptly followed by the looming doom of February when my resolutions are tossed out the window, and I realize how rubbish I am at overhauling myself.

That’s why the One Little Word challenge resonated with me when I first heard about it. Pick a word for the year that sums up some aspiration you have. It’s open-ended, doable, and low-key.

When the Year Feels Heavy

As I thought about what my 2026 word could be, I felt the pressure of turning 50 and the undeniable stench of not accomplishing everything I thought I would by my personal mid-century.

In a darker moment, I wrestled with it, feeling too late to the party. 

I’ve tried a million systems to optimize, fix, and improve myself, but here I am. 

Then it hit me. 

I didn’t need a new system.

I needed permission to be present.

My past words: grace, peace, bloom, discipline. In some way, each of these words served as a reaction to dramatic periods of change in my life. They were a state of mind that I aspired to, and they were part of my evolution, faithful in each of their seasons. This year feels different, though.

I don’t want to strive or struggle. I don’t want to start strong and fail. I want to grow without all the shame that comes with taking small steps or even taking a step backward. 

It took days, but my 2026 word came on quietly.

Persistently.

My word feels less like a goal and more like an exhale.

ARRIVE — A Word for the Year

ARRIVE: 2026 Manifesto

I arrive: fully, faithfully, and present, and step into each day awake, grounded, and aware of God’s presence and purpose. 

I arrive in my life—not drifting, not numbing, not waiting for a better version of myself—but showing up as who I am today, trusting God to shape who I become.

I arrive at my work with intention, my relationships with warmth, and my calling with courage.

I lay down the scattered urgency that pulls me out of my center and arrive in my spiritual life with openness, humility, and expectation. 

I let go of old narratives of failure, delay, and self-doubt because God has prepared me for what is ahead.

I arrive at the feet of Jesus before arriving anywhere else, even when I show up tired, uninspired, or unsure.

This year, I ARRIVE.

Arriving is a Posture, Not a Finish Line

I didn’t write this manifesto to convince myself of something new. I wrote it to name where my focus will be for the year.

Arriving isn’t a finish line. It’s a posture I’m practicing in real time, in the middle of a life that still feels unfinished and full.

Arrive carries both movement and rest—a willingness to step fully into my life while trusting that I am already where God has placed me.

It means meeting God in quiet honesty, choosing stillness over striving, and living aware of His nearness in every moment. It is stepping into my calling with clarity and integrity, fully present to the work God has entrusted to me.

I choose to arrive to the child I have today, rather than parenting toward an idealized future or overcompensating for past mistakes. Arriving is presence over perfection.

Choosing Presence in Everyday Life

It’s offering gentle presence to my mom, my family and friends, and the animals I tend. It is creating peace and warmth where we live, shaping our home into a place of calm and inspiration, or refreshing what no longer serves us. My garden isn’t desolate, but it is a place to show up to the rhythms of nature with patience. 

I give my creativity space to breathe and play, returning to the page without pressure. Showing up to work and my calling as I am, trusting faithfulness over visibility. Letting my work be honest without being all-consuming, and welcoming joy and curiosity into my days without guilt. 

Arriving means honoring my body with rest, nourishment, and care that come from a gentle place rather than pressure.

This year, I choose to ARRIVE—fully present to God, to my life, and to the people He has entrusted to me. 

I’m learning that I don’t need to rush toward some future version of myself to begin living faithfully. God meets me here — in the quiet, ordinary moments where growth often goes unseen.

Thank goodness you’ve arrived, too.

You don’t have to go anywhere else to begin. You’re already here.