By Krista Tedrow, Guest contributor

What if this year didn’t need fixing? What if you didn’t need another list, another reset, another version of yourself that requires discipline and self-correction to exist?

What if you chose a word? Instead of a goal or a resolution, what if it was an invitation to walk through the year with a little more honesty and a lot more self-trust?

That question is why, for more than a decade, I’ve chosen a word of the year.

An invitation, not a demand

I was introduced to this practice in 2015 by Rachelle Keck, who framed it not as self-improvement and instead as orientation. As a way of asking: How do I want to meet whatever this year brings, even the parts I can’t control?

Around the same time, I watched my friend, Hollie, another leader and one of the most intentional people I know, do this quietly, year after year. No announcements. No performative declarations. Just a word she lived into with care.

That grounded beginning made the practice feel human. And it matters, because real change doesn’t happen only in the cortex — it shows up first in your attention and nervous system. Modern research on attention and goal priming shows that what you repeatedly focus on actually influences what you notice and how you respond, not magically, but consistently over time.

Why a word feels different than a resolution

While many people make resolutions each year, the majority do not follow through. Resolutions tend to come from the neck up. Words tend to land in the body. A resolution says: Try harder. A word sets intention: What’s aligned?

Neuroscience and psychology both support this. Studies on self-concordant goals show that when your intentions are aligned with your internal values, you are more motivated, resilient and emotionally regulated than when driven by external demands. A word doesn’t demand consistency. It offers companionship.

You don’t “achieve” a word. You notice how it shows up, how you drift from it and how you gently return. This mirrors modern work on psychological flexibility, which shows that adaptability and value-driven orientation are stronger predictors of well-being than rigid goal lists. If you are interested in measuring your own psychological flexibility, you can use the Acceptance and Action Questionnaire (AAQ-II). The lower the score, the more flexible you are.

My words, over time

I didn’t realize it at first, but over the years my words began to tell a story. Looking back now, I can see how each one met the season I was in — and quietly prepared me for the next. Some of these words were aspirational. Some were survival words. Some only made sense in hindsight.

2015 — Courage
2016 — Persist
2017 — Resilient
2018 — Passion
2019 — Inspire
2020 — Endure
2021 — Build
2022 — Authentic
2023 — X-Factor
2024 — Wisdom
2025 — Bliss
2026 — Radiant

A few years ago, my word was “X-factor.” That year wasn’t about performing or standing out. It was about presence, trusting my voice without over-explaining, letting my way of being be enough in rooms where I used to shrink. Then came “wisdom,” a quieter year of listening and integration. Less striving. More discernment.

Last year came “bliss.” I chose bliss because life had been heavy for a long time, and I wanted to remember that joy didn’t have to be earned through exhaustion. Bliss showed up in beautiful, tangible ways: releasing a book, moments of celebration, a photo shoot that felt like reclamation rather than performance.

And then grief arrived — hard and fast. My adoptive father died. Then my mother. My marriage ended. Bliss didn’t disappear. It deepened. It taught me the bittersweet truth that I still hold close: Joy and grief are not opposites. They can exist in the same body, in the same year, without canceling each other out and somehow make life more beautiful.

Writers, psychologists, and grief educators have been naming this truth more openly in recent years. Resilience isn’t built by avoiding pain or forcing positivity, but by learning how to hold complexity with honesty and care.

That’s part of why a word stays with you. A word allows for movement, contradiction and return while outlasting checkbox goals. Words don’t demand perfection. They grow with you.

Words we walk with

One of the quiet gifts of this practice is how it moves between people. When shared, it’s rarely advice. It’s orientation, a glimpse of how someone else is choosing to meet their year.

Here are three leaders I trust, each naming the word they’re walking with this year, and why.

Rachelle Keck — Word of the Year: Overflow

“This is my 14th Word of the Year, a practice I began in 2013. My word was ‘fearless’ in 2015, the year I shared this practice with Krista. Looking back, my words tell a story, each meeting the season I was in and preparing me for what came next. ‘Overflow’ arrived as both gratitude and calling. Blessings have been abundant, but overflow is not meant to pool. I chose this word to live as a conduit, not a container — expecting abundance and intentionally letting what God pours in flow outward to others.”

Chris Wood — Word of the Year: Renaissance

“After a year guided by ‘ascend’ — focused on growth, discipline, and momentum — I’m stepping into ‘renaissance.’ Not as a comeback, but as re-creation. In 2026, I’m choosing curiosity, spiritual growth and imagination. I am prioritizing relationships over transactions and building an integrated life where presence matters more than outcomes, and progress matters more than perfection.”

Liesl Seabert — Word of the Year: Nourish

“Since I began choosing a word in 2020 — Joy, Thrive, Pause, Connect, Discover, and Obedience — I’ve seen a clear evolution from momentum, to reflection, to deeper alignment. Each word met me where I was and quietly shaped what came next. That’s why my word for 2026 is nourish. Personally, it reflects how I want to care for my body, creativity, faith and sense of joy. Professionally, it shows up as investing in people, growing capacity, and fostering long-term community health rather than chasing quick wins. Nourish feels less like a goal and more like a way of being, intentionally choosing connection, sustainability and care in how I lead and live.”

Why this year, my word is ‘radiant’

When I chose my word this year, I didn’t choose it from optimism or recovery. I chose it from readiness. “Radiant” isn’t about shining for attention. It’s about letting what’s already alive in me be seen, without bracing, without shrinking, without apology.

I always look at the etymology of a word before I commit to it. Radiant comes from radiāre: to emit light, to emanate. Not to force. Not to burn. To emanate. That distinction matters.

Radiant feels like:

• Leading without urgency.
• Being visible without self-betrayal.
• Letting joy be seen again.
• Allowing my life to reflect who I actually am now.

This kind of internal coherence — where intention, nervous system and behavior are aligned — is increasingly recognized as a foundation for sustained well-being and grounded leadership. When values and attention move together, when heart and mind are connected, clarity improves and the body no longer has to stay on guard.

Radiant isn’t something I’m trying to become. It’s something I’m finally allowing.

If you’re curious about choosing a word

This isn’t about picking the “right” word. It’s about noticing which word makes you pause. The one that feels a little tender. A little honest. A little inevitable.

You might not know exactly what it means yet. That’s OK. The word will teach you as the year unfolds. You don’t need to announce it. You don’t need to optimize it. You don’t need to get it perfect. Just let it walk with you.

A gentle way to begin

If you want to try this, start here:

1. Think about the last year — not just what happened, but what it asked of you.
2. Notice what feels unfinished, ready, or quietly calling for attention.
3. Write down a few words.
4. Look up their etymology and/or definition. See which one resonates most after you understand where it comes from and what it means.
5. Choose the word that feels like an intention, not a project.
6. Let it be a companion, not a command.

One last ‘what if?’

What if this year was more about curiosity and presence instead of discipline and improvement? What if one word could help you stay connected to yourself no matter what the year brings? That’s why ‘radiant’ is my 2026 word of the year.

Krista Tedrow is a writer, nonprofit leader and systems-level strategist based in Iowa. She works at the intersection of community development, leadership and narrative — empowering people and organizations to build with clarity, care and integrity.  Her writing weaves grief and joy, intimacy and power, spirituality and systems, examining what it means to live, lead and love in alignment from the inside out.