Each new year, I prayerfully choose a word that becomes a touchstone for the next twelve months. Last year’s word was “forward,” which I liked, assuming it meant there was much to look forward to in 2024. It took on a new meaning in early February, when a piece of bone broke off in my knee, creating an excruciating Russian roulette of pain that disabled me during a medically imposed waiting period until surgery in May. Now I was “looking forward” to major surgery, which was a novel concept. I even put a countdown on my phone like a bride awaiting her wedding day. After the surgery, I looked forward to being off a walker, then off crutches, then a walk to the mailbox, then a walk around the block, then a return to my personal trainer. “Forward” came at a minute’s pace some days, but I am thankful to have moved through it. Suffice it to say, my word for 2024 had an unexpected meaning. God is so funny, but He is also so good. I won’t fully know what this year’s word means until 2026 or beyond, but I feel more content not knowing what the year will bring. This is the gift of perseverance, I suppose.
Like a bobber on a fishing line, this year’s word kept dropping deep into my soul for a second before popping back into my conversations and consciousness. Once I took the bait, the possibilities for growth this year reeled me in. The word is “authentic.” It could prove more difficult than “forward,” but I am certain hindsight will prove it worth the journey.
I could take offense to the word if I assume it means I am currently “inauthentic,” but I’ve lived enough life to know it is not sketched in black and white lines, but layered with brush strokes of ever-changing colors like a lingering sunset. Therefore, I assume the sediment of my life’s landscape will change this year in ways that can only the passing of time can appreciate. Patience was my word one year, and that tree feels stripped bare some days, but God continues to paint happy little leaves in the shades of the seasons.
In that spirit, I want to sketch some outlines to color within in my quest for more authenticity this year.
Art Restoration

In today's age, authenticity is the loftiest goal, but the most necessary. I believe we are all an original work, and when we each shine in our own unique way, the world is better. Today’s media landscape demands we pick a side and blend into camouflaged, manufactured realities based on sex, geography, religion, ethnicity, etc. There is little room for original thought or authentic reactions. Could one southern white Christian mom think and act differently from another? I will answer this with another question: Would Michelangelo paint the same picture twice? Would a sculptor sit and meticulously copy his own work and sell them all as “originals”? Authenticity in today’s world means swimming upstream sometimes.
We all like to think we are originals, and that the world has not tainted us, but of course it has. Colors dull; paint chips away; cracks form. Underneath is a masterpiece waiting to be revealed to the world in all its glory, and daily we must submit to patient, thoughtful restoration. But we must be careful who we allow to have a hand in our renovation, lest an incompetent artist deface the accurate image. If we all look alike, the wrong artist is at play.
We must authenticate ourselves daily to make sure our true self is being revealed.
Two-Factor Authentication

Like a passcode sent to your phone, we must continually confirm our identity. A few “passcodes” come to mind.
Factor One: Feelings
Feelings never lie, although the courtroom of real life often discredits them. God has given us a dashboard with flashing lights and blinkers and gauges designed to keep us functioning at maximum efficiency, but most of us ignore the signs. We do not know what we are feeling, because we don’t have time for that. It’s pedal to the metal, and we ain’t no sissies. There is no time to pull over for gas, change a tire, or clean the windshield. We have a need for speed.
I don’t like to feel too much, and most of you would agree with me. Sadness is weakness; anger is a sin; fear is lack of faith. And yet, feelings persist despite the injection of loads of numbing agents like escapist television shows, torrid romance books, alcohol, food, sleep gummies, reels, posts, podcasts, thrill-seeking, vacation-planning, etc. Pick your poison; we all do. I wonder what a middle-aged mother in the Middle Ages did to escape her feelings. Tend another pot of mutton stew? Scour more clothes in a pot of lye? Pluck more feathers for the bed? It’s certainly easier today to ignore our feelings, and that’s a problem.
In the last year or two, I have attempted to identify my feelings, and I realized quickly I do not know what I’m doing. I tend to route all warning lights through my anger gear: People are so annoying! Traffic is so frustrating! My husband isn’t listening to me! The dash is lit up like a Christmas tree, and I can only see one red-hot light in the forest, and I run toward it like a banshee.

A friend gave me a “feelings wheel” which identifies all kinds of emotions. I hate it. It confounds me. There are many versions because, well, nobody really knows what the hell to feel anymore. But it’s a start, and the first feeling (other than anger) I identified is one I truly hate: sad. Here are a few synonyms for sad: ashamed, depressed, despondent, grief-stricken, heartbroken, helpless, hurt, inconsolable, lonely, pessimistic, sorry, unhappy, wronged. You get the idea.
If we unpack a few of these, the plot thickens. Pessimistic means to expect a bad outcome. Despondent means hopeless. Inconsolable means unable to be comforted. Yikes. This sends me running like a banshee again. But I have learned to press in and ask the all-important question: Why am I feeling this way?
I wrote earlier that feelings never lie. They don’t. But they don’t tell you the truth either. A low tire pressure alert can’t tell you whether there’s a nail in your tire or the weather has changed. Your engine is overheated, but is it a leak in your radiator or low coolant? We need to get to the truth of the matter, which is the second step of our two-factor authentication.
Factor Two: Truth
To assume makes an ass out of you and me. That’s an oldie but a goodie, but we need to drag that ass out of the shed and take a good look at it. Feelings are often based on assumptions or agreements: Nobody likes me. My life will always suck. I’m not good at anything. I will never be happy again. That person who cut me off in the parking lot did it on purpose because even though they’ve never met me, they must hate me and the universe longs to punish me for wanting that parking spot. Well, it sounds kind of crazy when you say it like that, which is why we must seek the truth.
Truth is, I am not unlovable. I just feel unlovable sometimes. Truth is, life may be hard now, but good things could be right around the corner. Truth is, I have strengths and weaknesses, and sometimes I must do hard things. Truth is, the person who cut me off in the parking lot couldn't care less about me, and the universe doesn’t care whether I’m close to the door in the rain or not.
Truth is the master mechanic that checks the engine gauge and helps diagnose the problem. Trusting feelings without seeking truth is like asking a blind man to lead you home. It’s not prudent. To be true is to be factual, not false, and honestly, truth is elusive these days. The media makes an ass out of you and me every day, and fake news makes us suspicious of so-called facts, but we can’t give up on the truth. It’s the only way home.
Truth is, all I know is that a person took a parking spot I wanted. Truth is, I love when my boys are all home and I am sad when they leave. Truth is, my friend didn’t call me back. Period. To assume he/she hates me is to make an a—well, you get the point. Truth is, there is always hope, and love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, and faithfulness are available.
Truth can validate or invalidate our feelings. We can be sad because someone was truly unkind to us, but sometimes we overreacted. Truth knows the difference. Truth doesn’t dismiss our feelings; it assesses them.
When we assess our feelings and ask what is true, we authenticate ourselves. Authentic people choose to feel and live their lives based on truth. I want to be authentic.
Whatever your religion, the apostle Paul’s letter to the Philippians has some advice I believe we can all agree on:
Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.
Notice it doesn’t say, “and in the meantime, stuff your feelings down like entrails in a sausage casing.” God gave us feelings, and they are part of what makes us authentic. Trust but verify: that’s two-factor authentication.
It’s Not You, It’s Me
Authenticity is self-centered in the best possible way. It is laser-focused on moving closer each day toward our true nature. What am I feeling? What do I truly believe? What should I do? Authentic people don’t live by consensus. They ask for opinions and seek information, then decide and act. They don’t need to be validated by others. They know who they are and why they are doing what they are doing.
I don’t think authentic people have to tell you everything they think all the time. They are secure in their beliefs. They don’t need to argue. They might like a friendly debate to hew their beliefs, but the goal is not to prove a point but to reach the truth. And here is what really scares me about being authentic: we risk being wrong. It’s not just a risk, it’s a certainty.
Fun fact: we don’t know everything. When we know better, we do better. We must be content with not knowing, while remaining open to knowing more. If we dig in, either out of fear of being wrong or in defiance of someone else, we lose the ability to change our mind or change course. This is dangerous and could lead us into storms instead of out of them.

Authentic people live in the present, not the past or the future. Beating ourselves up over things we didn’t know or agonizing over the unknown are both trails to reactive, fearful inauthenticity. We are afraid to be vulnerable. We are afraid to be wrong. To be authentic is to be vulnerable and to be wrong sometimes. None of this negates our decisions in the moment, if we make them with a genuine desire to be open to the truth and to not knowing. What a relief it could be to hope we are right, but know we might be wrong. It’s like painting with layers of watercolors instead of Sharpies. There are absolutes, yes, but we won’t absolutely know them all until we are dead.
In my quest to be more authentic this year, it’s about me, not you. I want to feel the feels, seek the truth, and be open to new ideas. I want to journey with you, not take your journey. I want to be always moving ever closer to who God made me to be, and I want to encourage you and give you the freedom to do the same. The world will be better for it.
Here’s to a more authentic year.
So much great truth in your words! Your writing is refreshingly authentic! Letting our emotions steer the ship can be hazardous to ourselves and everyone else around us. Love the idea of verifying them with what is true. I also love to ask myself “what else is true” when I feel all has gone wrong. It’s so helpful to check perspective!
Thanks for sharing your words.
Amy, you are such a gifted writer and very thoughtful, thank you for sharing your gift with us. When are you going to write your book, I really love the way you write.
I am so sorry for your knee issues last year, bless your heart for going through all that. I hope they fixed it, so it won't be a problem again.
Love it!!