Every year I choose a word.
One word to serve as my compass.
One word to come back to when life gets loud and my calendar starts filling itself.
One word that reminds me who I want to be as I move through another twelve months of becoming.

Last year, my word was Flourish.
At the time, I picked it because I wanted to grow.
I wanted expansion.
I wanted proof that I was still capable of big things.

What I did not realize was how fully that word would take root.

I flourished on the lanes.
Two 300s on tour reminded me that the competitor in me is still alive.
I almost had a third.
There was something grounding about that stretch of time.
Like reconnecting with a version of myself that never really left.

I flourished in legacy.
Walking into the Nebraska Athletics Hall of Fame brought everything full circle.
Standing there with my family, I felt the weight of every early morning, every setback, every lesson that shaped me.
It was more than an honor.
It was confirmation that growth compounds quietly over time.

I flourished in impact.
Especially through the Elite Youth Tour.
I watched kids I met when they were eight step into their college years.
I watched confidence replace doubt.
I watched leadership take shape.
There is something deeply humbling about realizing that consistency, care, and belief can ripple forward in ways you may never fully see.

And alongside all of that flourishing, I had a front row seat to something else entirely.

I watched John and Alain bring Ox Bar & Hearth to life.
That was their flourishing.
Decades of experience, patience, and vision finally meeting the right moment.
My role was not to claim it, but to witness it.
To support it.
To learn from it.
To be reminded that not everything meaningful needs to belong to you to change you.

Flourish was the right word for 2025.
It pushed me.
It expanded me.
It reminded me what I am capable of.

But growth has a way of teaching you what comes next.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I was craving lightness.
More whimsy.
More laughing.
More moments that felt playful instead of pressured.
More rest.
More being.
Less doing.

I realized that I do not want a life that is only impressive.
I want one that is joyful.

So my word for 2026 came quietly, but clearly.

My word is Light.

Light is freedom.
Light is laughter.
Light is breathing room.
Light is choosing what feels expansive instead of what feels heavy.
Light is trusting that success does not have to feel tight or serious to be meaningful.

In 2026, I want to float a little more.
I want joy to lead.
I want creativity without urgency.
I want to laugh until my stomach hurts.
I want to rest without earning it first.
I want to make room for whimsy, because when you strip it all down, that is where life actually happens.

Flourish taught me how to grow.
Light will teach me how to enjoy it.

Here is to a year that feels bright.
A year that feels free.
A year that feels light.