When I was in the 4th grade, I was chosen, along with a handful of other students, to represent our school at the regional spelling bee. To say I was absolutely delighted would be an understatement. I had arrived, I was living the dream, and I was going to do all that I could to bring home the grand prize.

Preparation would be key. The powers that be provided our small but mighty team with a thick packet of all the words that could potentially be used the day of the spelling bee. So, we met together after school for drills and practice tests, and of course, I was studying on my own as often as I could. As someone with a passion for words, even at a young age, spending so much time going through that packet and enhancing my vocabulary by becoming familiar with such a large selection of words was super fun and exciting.

Several weeks later, the big day finally arrived. I was filled with nerves and anticipation. My dad and I met up with the team at the conference center, and we were set to begin.

Now, this wasn’t a traditional spelling bee where participants stand on a stage and spell words into a microphone {thanks be to God}. Instead, if memory serves, there were several rounds of 10 words, and each team member was assigned to a round. So, when my turn came, I sat at an assigned table. As each of the 10 words was called, I spelled out the word on my answer sheet. And before I knew it, my time was up. I’d written down and spelled all 10 words—and I was confident I’d spelled them all correctly. I was feeling good.

Not long after, though, we received a score update for our team, and based on that score, it appeared I had, in fact, misspelled one word. But I couldn’t for the life of me figure out which word it was. So, after all the rounds were through and the competition was officially over, my dad inquired with the judges on my heartbroken behalf. The word I missed? Begonia. For whatever reason, I’d added an extra “I” so it spelled, begoinia. What in the world? Our team ended up placing 3rd overall, so it wasn’t a complete disaster, but it still took some time for my little word-loving self to get over the misspell.

If you’ve been around for awhile, you probably know that words have always been important to me—reading them, writing them, speaking them, and yes, now you know, even spelling them. There are many reasons for this, but I think part of it is that I believe our words matter and, if chosen and used with wisdom and intention, I believe they can make a good difference. And I think this can be true, too, in this particular season, as we prepare to end one year and begin another.

The past decade or so, it’s become a pretty common annual practice for many people to begin the year by choosing a personal Word for the Year. You might be well-versed in this practice, but in case you’re not, the idea is that it’s meant to be an alternative to the traditional New Year’s resolutions that we sometimes feel pressured to make. So, rather than a rigid rule or resolution, a simple word is meant to be more of a guide, a focus, a lens or filter we will commit to look through and use as we navigate the upcoming year.  It’s a way to articulate our hopes and determine our posture as we consider all we might experience and who we might become along the way. And this sort of gentle intention can be a gift.

That is true. Choosing a word at the beginning can be meaningful and worthwhile. And… I wonder if *only* choosing a word at the beginning is somewhat incomplete all on its own. Because it’s also true that in order to begin a new year, we must end another. And so I wonder if maybe, it could be helpful to also choose a personal word for the year as it’s coming to a close, after we’ve already lived it.

This isn’t a groundbreaking idea by any means. In fact, before we were choosing words to begin the year, many institutions were already choosing official words to close out the year.

In a 2014 TIME Magazine article, Katie Steinmetz charts the origins of this practice. I’ll link to the article in the show notes in case you’re curious, but to briefly sum it up, the American Dialect Society chose the first Word of the Year in 1990. And since then, the ritual has continued to grow.

Now, others have joined in—institutions like the Linguistic Society of America, Miriam-Webster, Oxford University Press, and even dictionary.com all participate in selecting their own words of the year. They each use different metrics—some rely on nominations and votes, others use search engine data, and still others consider significant events and trends. If you’re curious about some of the selections for 2023, they include the words authentic, hallucinate, A.I., and the term, Rizz, just to name a few. Interesting choices, for sure.

It’s a fun collective practice each year, and I wonder if it might do us some good to follow suit and kinda make it our own. If you could choose a word to sum up your 2023, what would it be?

That question might seem simple on the surface, but of course answering it requires some time, some thought, and some honest reflection. And really, that’s the point. As John Dewey reminds us, “We do not learn from experience; we learn from reflecting on experience.” So, before we move forward, it can be healthy and helpful to look back. Not so we stay stuck in the past, but so we can take note of all we experienced, consider who we became along the way, and, hopefully, more faithfully step into what’s next.

To do this, one helpful tool might be the prayer of examen. Typically, this is used on a daily basis, but it can also be used to reflect on your year. In remind{h}er 82, I shared a brief overview of what this might look like, so feel free to revisit that remind{h}er if you think it could be helpful. Basically, though, using the prayer of examen to look back at your year starts with asking questions like this:

• What am I grateful for?

• What was most life-giving?

• What was most draining or troubling?

• When and where did I take time to pause?

• When did I feel most like myself?

• Did I experience God’s presence with me in any of this?

Once you’ve answered those questions honestly, you can begin to discern that word. Do you notice any themes or threads? What was the overall tone or vibe?

You might love the word you land on, and that is a gift. But it’s also possible that, some years, your word might not be what you’d hoped. And that’s okay. Actually, that feels just right. Because this practice isn’t about making your year something it wasn’t. It’s about welcoming your reality by naming what is true. And hey, maybe it feels more true to choose a couple words rather than just one. That’s okay, too. Again, the point is simply to be where you are as you consider where you’ve been.

Once you have your word or words, you can then begin to respond by answering questions like:

• What worked?

• What didn’t work?

• What shifts might be helpful as I prepare to begin again?

Holding this information and insight, you can then begin to look forward and consider the word you might like to choose for the year ahead. Some helpful questions for this step could be:

• As I look ahead, what comes to mind?

• Who do I hope to become?

• What do I sense I might need?

• With what spirit do I hope to enter the new year?

We choose a word at the end and we choose a word at the beginning. It’s a practice that helps us both set the tone and reflect the tone. And ultimately, the hope is that a practice of doing both—choosing two words rather than one—will help us be more faithful in the present—more aware of the Word made flesh, living among us, as we notice the grace and truth of that Word all around us {John 1:14}.

Today, as you prepare to end one year and begin another, remember to choose your words—thoughtfully, carefully, intentionally, honestly—both for what’s behind and for what might lie ahead. May we take the time to both remember and hope as we look back and move forward. And may we continue to seek and trust the presence of the Word who was, and is, and will be forever.