The year of light — One Moore Thing


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My dear friend Carrie and I share a birthday in the cusp of the holiday season, in that sweet space of all that shines while awaiting the fresh page that a new year will bring. She had a brilliant idea years ago that we should pick a word of the year, something to strive for and something to return to as both the foundation and the backbone of our year. Last year she picked joy and I picked rise.

This past year was hard. Empowering. But so incredibly hard. Every time I found myself in a new unchartered trench, there was a small but firm voice inside me that whispered, “rise.” Again and again. Failed a test. Rise. Book rejection. Rise. Separation. Disappointment. Exhaustion. Motherhood. Struggle. Grief. Loss. Tears. Rise. That word sailed my life boat all the way home. At the end of the summer at a small tattoo shop in the Outer Banks, I had it written permanently in a type writer font at the top of my spine.

This year the word I am choosing is light.

I want to feel the light, to see it, to become it. I want to filter out the darkness in the days and go to sleep blanketed in warmth. I want to say no to the things in my life that swallow and shadow me. What would be let go of if we constantly sought out the things that brought us hope and light? What if we let go of the things that held us back? What if we fell in love with the word no and chased the things that brought us to our highest version of yes? What if we did choose to live for the light?

I know this: I want to wake up and smile. Every day.

And yes. Of course there will be setbacks. There will be trenches. And difficult conversations. And tweens and teenagers. And a serious lack of sleep. And the feeling that there is never enough time. But I know that there will always be enough time for what truly is important to us. It is a choice. And I’m going to strive to own it. Every day. There is a voice inside of me, inside of all of us that will whisper “light” if we allow it to. My voice will sometimes have to shout. But I do hope I will listen to it. I hope I remember the light. I hope I remember that every crack within me just allows more light to pour in.

We get this one life. I want mine to face the sun.

Katie’s essay and tangent collection about motherhood, life and imperfection, Happy Broken Crayons is available on Amazon now. Thank you for reading. You are the (queen) bees knees. Happy happy holidays and happy happy new year to you. In setting your hopes for 2018, please think about your word. I can’t wait to hear it. Xoxo

To read more blogs by Katie Moore click here.

MooreFam SKatie Yackley Moore is a freelance writer, yoga instructor and a momma of four navigating life and a separation and finding herself in the process. She adores coffee shops, laughing until it hurts and impromptu dance parties. Her work has appeared on Scary Mommy, Mamalode and HuffPost Parents. She has published a journal entitled “Dream a Bigger Dream” and the children’s books “You Are a Warrior” and “We are Family” and just finished her first novel. Catch up with her between tea breaks at The Naked Momma and on Facebook.