Goodbye 2014.

I won’t lie. For my family, 2014 wasn’t a good year. It was a hard year. We faced challenges we had expected but still weren’t prepared for. They say it’s during the toughest times that we see what we’re made of, what we’re capable of, what our potential truly is. But that’s difficult to recognize in the midst of soul-deep heartache.

It wasn’t until my heart started to heal, until I was emotionally able to look back without falling apart, that I was able to acknowledge the good amongst the bad. In the middle of the gloom, between each deliverance of hardship, was joy. There were memories that will have to sustain us for years to come. There were smiles, joy and laughter. There was wonderful. There is always wonderful, if we look hard enough for it.

I have two autistic sons, one of whom is on the low functioning side of the spectrum. They don’t think like me, function like me. It’s a struggle to watch them struggle. What I have to remind myself is: I see the difference, but, this is their normal. Kaleb is a computer genius with an infectious laugh. For the past three years straight he’s talked about being a police officer. He is the safety patrol of our house, regulating us on all things safety. He doesn’t have empathy, but he definitely knows the difference between right and wrong. And Roman has an eye for detail, for mathematical detail, that I’ve never witnessed before. He lines anything and everything up, and he paces back and forth studying his work from every single angle to ensure each item is spaced to perfection; as he adds to the line-up, he readjusts every other item until they are perfectly spaced again. You can put a measuring tape to his rows and everything will be exact; he’s a symmetrical genius with, what I consider, an amazing gift. The cherry on top? This year, he finally said his first word. We weren’t sure if he was ever going to be verbal. Speaking that single word renewed my hope for him.

We lost my children’s grandmother. I can’t say that my heart has healed yet. I miss her more than I ever missed my own mother. It tears me up when Kaleb asks about her. In his naive, uncomprehending mind, he believes she will come back. Every time I have to explain it to him, my heartbreak is renewed. But in the midst of my deep-rooted sorrow is joy, is wonderful. It’s so easy to want to be selfish, to wish I had found a way to keep her here, but that would have meant keeping her in pain, in constant, bone-chilling pain. In the midst of it, I could only see the loss we faced. Looking back, I’m beginning to see the blessing it was. She’s no longer suffering. That’s not something to cry over; it’s something to rejoice over.

There will always be these tiny holes in my heart for the people I’ve lost, for the simple things my children lack. But I always hope, with each new year, that eventually the joy in my life, the blessings, the wonderful, will fill those wells sadness carved.

We’re not in 2015 yet, but I know that the amazing I seek will come. Seek is the key word. Happiness will always be a choice. We choose whether the aching swallows us whole, or, like a kinky erotic romance, it leads to more pleasure.

I’m choosing pleasure. I’m choosing to believe that amazing things are ahead, and then, I’m going to seek them.

I’m saying goodbye to 2014 and entering 2015 with renewed hope, with optimism. Because, even if I lose all I have, I will still have the sweetness of what was, and, therefore, I will still have wonderful.

Each and every one of you is a part of my wonderful, a part of the pile of blessings I say thanks for every day. Thank you for sticking with me, for continually supporting me, for being my wonderful when I felt I had no other. You were the difference in 2014 for my family. If you feel unloved, unwanted, undesired by everyone else in your life, hear me now: I love you, I cherish you, I value you. You are my wonderful. You are the difference in my world; you were the little bit of light in the darkness this year. I adore you and am so thankful for you.

Each and every one of you.

Thank you for getting me through this rough year, and here is to a better, brighter, new year with much more wonderful.

Happy New Year! - Christin