Rooted, Not Rushed | The Word That Will Shape My Year

Let’s be honest—choosing a word of the year is a little cheesy. It’s one of those January things, right alongside new planners and fresh pens that may or may not survive past February.

And yet… I do it every year.

Not because it’s trendy or makes a cute graphic, but because it grounds me. In a world full of noise and expectations, I like having one simple word to return to—something steady when everything else feels scattered.

So yes, I chose a word again. And no, I’m not embarrassed about it.

This year, my word is rooted. Not flashy, trendy, or in a hurry.

Just rooted—anchored, steady, growing quietly beneath the surface. I’ve spent enough years chasing what’s next, thinking growth meant constant movement. Now I know better.

This is the year I stop uprooting myself just to prove I’m growing—and start trusting what’s already been planted.

What Being Rooted Means to Me

Being rooted means knowing where I belong—internally and externally.

It means letting my values run deeper than my fears. Letting my faith in slow work outweigh my urge to rush. Letting my life be shaped more by intention than reaction.

Rooted doesn’t mean stagnant. Trees grow tall because they’re anchored. They weather storms because they’ve learned how to hold fast underground. Their strength isn’t loud—but it’s undeniable.

This is how I want to live this year: grounded, nourished, steady. Not perfect. Just present.

Rooted in Womanhood

For a long time, I thought womanhood was something I had to earn—through productivity, perfection, or approval. This year, rooted womanhood looks like belonging to myself.

It means honoring my body as it is, not as a project. Honoring my emotions without apologizing for them. Honoring my creativity even when it doesn’t lead to anything measurable.

Being rooted as a woman means letting go of comparison. I don’t need to keep up with anyone else’s timeline. My life doesn’t have to look louder or shinier to be meaningful.

Rooted womanhood says: I am enough here. Right now. Without proof.

Rooted in Marriage

Marriage doesn’t thrive on grand gestures alone. It thrives on consistency, care, and a shared willingness to grow in the same soil. This year, being rooted in my marriage means choosing steadiness over scorekeeping.

It means showing up even when we’re tired. Listening without immediately fixing. Choosing kindness in the small moments that make up a life.

Rooted love looks like shared rituals, laughter, and quiet nights. It looks like remembering we’re on the same team, even when we disagree. It looks like staying curious about each other, not just comfortable.

We don’t need to constantly reinvent our relationship. We need to tend to it. And tending—like rooting—takes patience.

Rooted in Motherhood

Motherhood has a way of pulling us in every direction at once. We want to do it right. We want to raise kind humans, to protect, guide, and somehow not lose ourselves in the process. This year, being rooted as a mother means choosing presence over performance.

It means fewer frantic fixes and more steady listening. More sitting beside my kids than hovering above them. More trust in the foundation we’ve already laid.

Rooted motherhood looks like family dinners that don’t have to be fancy. Like routines that offer comfort. Like holding space for emotions without trying to rush them away.

It’s remembering that the safest place my kids can land is a mother who is anchored in herself.

Rooted in Joy

Joy might seem like the opposite of being rooted—but it isn’t. Joy is what grows when we slow down long enough to notice what’s already good.

This year, I want to choose joy without guilt. To rest without explanation. To take pleasure in simple things—music drifting through the house, time outside, shared laughter, creativity, moments that don’t need to be productive to be meaningful.

Rooted joy looks like staying present instead of rushing past what delights me. It looks like choosing wonder over worry. It looks like remembering that a well-lived life makes room for lightness.

I want to be rooted enough to enjoy my life—not just manage it.

Rooted in My Work

My work has never been just a job. It’s a form of service—quiet, steady, and deeply tied to the well-being of my community, especially those who are too often overlooked or underserved.

This year, being rooted in my work means remembering why I do it.

It means showing up with humility instead of urgency. Listening before leading. Meeting people where they are—not where I think they should be.

I want my work to be grounded in dignity, compassion, and consistency. To reflect care rather than control. To honor the truth that real change happens slowly, through relationships, presence, and patience.

This year, I’m choosing to stay rooted in service—doing good work, in good soil, for the long haul.

How I’ll Return to This Word When I Forget

Because I will forget. I’ll rush. I most definitely will compare. I’ll overcommit. So when I do, I’ll ask myself a few grounding questions:

• What do I need to tend to instead of abandon?
• Where am I being called to stay?
• What would steadiness look like right now?

Rooted is not a rule—it’s a compass. It reminds me that growth happens quietly. That strength is built slowly. That a life doesn’t have to be loud to be deeply meaningful.

An Invitation for the Year Ahead

If you’re feeling unmoored—tired of chasing, striving, becoming—maybe you don’t need a fresh start. Maybe you need deeper roots.

Roots that hold you steady in uncertain seasons. They that remind you who you are when the world gets noisy. Roots that allow you to grow without losing yourself.

This is the year I stop uprooting my life in search of something better—and start trusting what’s already been planted. This is the year I live rooted.

And I have a feeling that’s where the real growth begins.