The new year as a threshold

Every moment offers a new beginning, but there is something special about the collective transition from one calendar year to the next. It is and always has been a struggle for me not to get too caught up in new beginnings like this, to not be spellbound in the illusion that simply resolving to change will bring change, or that most of the mundane changes I desire, will bring lasting happiness.

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Parenting in a hospital, then and now
Photo by Marcelo Leal

Parenting in a hospital, then and now

Despite the fact that my son is considered a "sick kid"—a child with multiple, chronic conditions—he actually hasn't been in the hospital for years. About a month ago, his winter cold turned into pneumonia, and we've been reacquainted with hospital life with a vengeance. Parenting a child in the hospital for the first time in nearly a decade, I can't help but notice how I've changed.

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Wonder
Photo by Emily Morter

Wonder

I think sometimes we special needs parents are getting the wrong message. We're told that if we want to be effective, we should be the mama bear — fierce and protective. Or the victim, sad and pleading. The course leader's parable reminded me that I have other options, ones that actually might be more effective than anger or sadness.

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Empty space
Photo by Silvestri Matteo

Empty space

As we prepared to sell our house and pack for  our huge adventure and head out to Sweden next week, we've had to take decluttering to the proverbial "whole nother level" to say the least. A trifecta of motivators—a cheer-leading realtor, the understandably high cost of trans-Atlantic shipping and an earnest desire for a fresh start—has lit a fire under our bums and experience has been nothing short of catharsis.

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Prostration
Photo by Mateus Campos

Prostration

Several years ago I heard a radio interview with a devout Jewish woman who had a practice of laying prostrate—face down on the ground, arms outstretched. She said she did it to remind herself that she was not in control of every little thing. She was in God’s hands. In other faiths too, the act of laying oneself down is one of humility or surrender. While I might not share the beliefs from which this tradition springs, I do appreciate the value of acknowledging that I am not always in control.

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Special needs eclipse

I can't even capture the intensity of the dark feeling now, but it was there, even though the circumstances seem trivial now. In one flash I saw myself forty years from now tying his shoe laces, wiping his mouth and his bottom, and my mind did a high-speed rewind through all of the thousands of tying and wiping moments I'd have between then and now. Zero to despair and rage in sixty seconds. It was hot and black and tight.

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