I’ve been on a purging, cleaning, and organizing kick. Recently, I took everything out of my kitchen cabinets, wiped down every shelf, reorganized and donated four boxes. In one of those boxes was a full set of champagne flutes and a full set of wine glasses. These glasses were nothing spectacular. Simple, plain clear, glasses. I didn’t buy them on a trip to Europe or Asia. I bought them at Target about five years after college when I moved into my first home.
I reflected on the young woman who purchased those glasses. She was on the cusp of finishing her MBA, had floated and changed jobs every 18-36 months and she wasn’t settled in her soul. Buying those glasses made her feel “grown up.” She was living on her own in a simple townhouse, had landed a full-time job, and finally had benefits. (She had gone without healthcare for 3 years. This was pre-ACA, and she was booted off her parents’ health insurance at 22. She couldn’t afford healthcare until she was a grad student and could leverage the university health care services.) Those glasses were a luxury item to her. She opened the box, washed each glass with care and poured a glass of wine to celebrate her independence. She felt she had arrived.
As I held those glasses, I realized it was time to let them go. I was no longer the naïve 20-something who walked the line between self-doubt and confidence. I didn’t need the basic glasses from Target. I have a beautiful set of Bohemian crystal champagne flutes from the Czech Republic and multiple sets of wine glasses for different types of wine. It was time to carefully box them up and pass them along to the next person. In a very Marie Kondo way, I thanked them for the joy they brought me and let them go.
In the last five years I have grown more personally and professionally than in any other period except those initial post-undergraduate days. My mind was stretched with major initiatives implemented at work and expanded responsibilities. I experienced several types of metaphorical deaths and new beginnings. And, my soul was nourished and healed through my formation as a spiritual director. I have been frustrated, grateful, angry, and filled with joy – all the feels. As I let go of those glasses and the 20-something young woman, I realized it was time for something else.
For close to 35 years, I have set an intention for each year. Unlike a resolution, my intention is a theme I carry with me through the year. It isn’t something I do, rather it is a way of being. I struggled to find my intention for 2025 – how did I want to show up this year. I cycled through many words and phrases. Then, as I was writing a year-end message to my staff, I wrote about each of us stepping in.
Stepping in isn’t the same as stepping up. To me, stepping up connotes ideas that one isn’t sufficient or good enough. Stepping in sees you as you are – wonderfully and fearfully made (Psalm 139: 14). Wonderfully translated from Hebrew means “unique” or “set apart.” Fearfully translates from Hebrew as “with great reverence, heartfelt interest, and respect” – not scared or afraid. In other words, you were molded and crafted from great love with an attention to detail so you can be distinctive, one of kind. Stepping in honors the person you are becoming and called to be. And creating space for others to do the same.
2025 will be a year of stepping in for me. What that means is yet to unfold. But through prayer, faith, and hope, I await with an open heart and mind for the graces ahead. And my prayer for my staff – and for you – is in 2025 we call can step in.