"Fearless," He said.

“Live daringly, boldly, fearlessly.” ~ Henry J. Kaiser

What does it mean to live in such a way? The answer is probably different for each person. For me, it means getting outside my comfort zone, trying new things, and learning to be just a little less afraid of the world. For most of my adulthood, I have allowed fear to run the show. It hasn't always driven the bus or been up front riding shotgun, but it has been a constant presence either being a backseat driver or banging on the roof when I bravely stuff it in the trunk.

Fear has its place in the world. It has a message for us that we need to listen to at times, like when I operate power tools without my safety glasses or attempt to rollerblade. Yet, fear is meant to be a tool to help us live productive and healthy lives. Fear was never meant to drive the bus or navigate the plane all day, every day.

“Fearless,” God said when I sought out My One Word for the year. I hear it in my head, though, as “fear less.” It’s time for less fear in my life. It’s time to do the things I’ve been dreaming about doing but have always been too afraid to try - tackling those projects around the house that always seemed too difficult or overwhelming, write more, be more creative and authentic, speak up for myself and for injustice in the world. Yeah, those things.

Earlier this year I started ripping up my carpet and putting down laminate flooring. I've become such a familiar face at the hardware store that they know me by first name. What I've learned through the process is that I am capable of far more than I ever thought I could be. All those invisible walls I've been standing behind all of these years started to crumble. I’m now seeing myself in very different light. I’ve discovered that I am particularly gifted at removing baseboards with minimal damage. Power tools are no longer mystic creatures hiding out in my garage, and any sign of progress, no matter how small, is still progress, and deserves to be embraced for the delicious joy that it can bring on an otherwise frustrating day. That cloak of fear used to feel like a comfortable sweater, but I realize now that it was more like a straitjacket than anything.

Fear is no longer riding shotgun or giving directions from the backseat. Okay, it’s still making noise in the trunk of the car most days, but it will quiet down soon enough and resume its proper place in the world. I have faith that God put me on this “fear less” journey for restoration and purpose. Right now I'm hoping that restoration involves a finished floor soon, but I can have patience and enjoy the journey. And when fear decides to pound on the roof of the trunk a little too loudly, I'll just turn up the music and dance across the floor.