Happy New Year’s Eve, everyone! I
hope you are settling in this evening with friends and loved ones to ring in
the new year. If your year has been anything like mine, I’m sure you’re looking
forward to the change.
Fundamentally, we all know that the
turning of the calendar page is not an actual turning point. The earth
continues to orbit the sun, the stars come out and disappear, the air is warm
or cold depending on our position in relation to our daystar, but so many of us
place stock in the turning of the seasons and the hanging of a new recordkeeper
on the wall.
The change of the year is purely
mental—all of us understanding that with the new image and the new numerical
track record on the calendar comes the opportunity to believe in change—both
personal and global. All of us have watched events unfold in our country and
around the world that have caused us to bite our nails to the quick, and
whether we agree or disagree with the president and the government, all of us
have closely watched the movements of congressional committees, the veto stamp,
and the White House pen. Secretly or
not-so-secretly, most of us are holding our collective breaths until November,
when We The People will hopefully parade to the election booths and select the
folks we hope will work on our behalf for the betterment of our nation and even
our personal interactions. I pray we choose well.
For most of us, 2015 has been a bag
of mixed blessings and difficulties. Five special blessings entered my life
this year, five little men who I hope with all my heart will make a powerful
mark on this world: Jaron, Collin, Ganton, Shaymus, and Killian. Five sweet
little nephews who have each, in their own ways, stolen my heart.
One of these blessings was not ours
to keep. Jaron Isaiah Fulford was born March 27th after months of
speculation; doctor’s visits; relocation of his mom, Jessica, and older
brother, Caleb, to California for months; a strong wave of prayer from around
the world, literally; and many, many nights of tears and hope. That he was born
at all was an incredible miracle. Jaron was born with Cornelia De Lange
syndrome, a chromosomal disorder most of us had never heard of. The disorder
caused a congenital diaphragmatic hernia—a hole in the diaphragm which allowed
many of his organs to develop in his chest, causing his lungs to be unable to
develop properly or expand. The disorder also caused a lack of higher brain
function and deafness.
Despite all of this, and against
every single prognosis given by his doctors, Jaron was born, and he snuggled
his mom and dad for two full days. I had the blessing of getting to visit
Jessica and Caleb where they were staying in California and feel him kick, lay
funny, and goof around in his mom’s tummy. He was a fighter despite all the
odds, and even though I never got to hold him, I was honored to attend one of
his ultrasounds, and to “meet” him when I talked to him and felt him moving
around.
Jaron went home to be with the Lord
on March 29th, but his impact on the world continues to be
far-reaching, as folks who followed Jaron’s journey still reach out to Jessica
and Ben and tell them how much Jaron’s little life meant to them. Jaron made a
profound difference for me in other ways, as well. In all honesty, I used to be
nervous around children who had developmental disabilities—children in
wheelchairs, babies with down’s syndrome, youngsters with cerebral palsy or
other disorders who didn’t look or behave like other children. Before Jaron was
born, though, I started thinking about the reality that my little nephew might
be deaf and that he might not look like “other” babies do. I came to realize
then that I didn’t mind. That, in fact, I wanted to see how unique and
beautiful he would be. I decided that if he was born deaf, I would learn sign
language. I would teach him how to read. I would find what toys and games he
liked best and play them with him. I would help others see just how beautiful
he was.
Even though I won’t have that
opportunity, the idea has blossomed in my heart. The idea of learning sign
language is more appealing to me now even than it was before, and the thought
that I can honor Jaron’s memory by learning a way to talk to other children
with developmental disorders warms my heart. This next year, I hope to take the
first steps.
My second major blessing was the
opportunity to watch the birth of another nephew. Collin Tank Wade was born
July 6 after a couple of false alarms and late-night drives to the hospital.
This little man always has a smile and a hug for me when I see him, and he’s
very patient with the antics of his older sister. Every once in a while, I get
to hold all four of my little nieces and nephews—Lexi, Caleb, Jaron’s teddy
bear, and Collin. There’s very little I enjoy more than playing with those
little goofballs! Lexi and Caleb are developing very rich imaginations and
playing with them is always an adventure in itself. Lexi is the very definition
of a girly girl, and when we play, we’re usually princesses who dance, sing,
and cook in the kitchen. Caleb, however, has always been a bit more on the
serious side, and I call him my little poet. Whether or not he becomes a poet,
he is poetic in his attentiveness to the world and to the things outside it: His
current love is for outer space. When we play, we’re being attacked by martians
and firing ray guns.
I’ve also been blessed by getting
to help more with some of the littles. Ganton, my best friend’s little boy,
joined the fray of goofballs in September, and I’ve had the opportunity to be
close by and “help out” by playing with his older brothers, Spencer and Bexton.
I love kids; I always have, and getting to spend nearly every day running
around, playing, and reading stories has meant the world to me.
That’s not to say I had as much
time as I might have liked to play. This year I was also blessed with the
fulfillment of another goal: a full-time position at the college. Though the
full-time position is temporary, I have been assigned to create an academic
journal for our school, which I have nearly completed. The first issue anyway.
Because of that and other commitments—teaching, working in the Writing Lab,
teaching a veteran’s class, helping run the book club, and house sitting—I was
away from home more than I might have liked, but I still got to spend much more
time than usual with little ones
My year was full of unexpected
wonderful things. In addition to those listed above, I was able to purchase a
vehicle I both needed and have been wanting for years: a Ford Escape *cue happy
dance,* which I have named Harris. (Take your time; it’ll come to you.) I was
allocated an office for the year, which has been crucial to helping me complete
a number of tasks. I spent the entire summer house sitting and didn’t have to
pay rent or utilities, yet I got to have dogs by my side for months (I love
dogs). I strengthened my relationships with family and friends. I was afforded
the opportunity to return to Pacific University for a writer’s conference, and
with it came the joy of seeing my friends from the program, whom I miss dearly.
My favorite blessing this year has
been…wait for it…my man! (I heard that collective squeal of glee from my
grandmothers, mother, aunts, surrogate mothers, and all manner of female
relatives and friends.) Cameron and I started dating in October, and he’s one
of the most wonderful guys I’ve ever known. The best part is that he puts up
with my ridiculous antics which, as most of you know, can get a little out of
hand at times.
While I have been blessed beyond
measure this year, others close to me have seen difficulty after difficulty.
Two close family friends have been battling with cancer. Two of my family
members have been dealing with significant physical illnesses. Others close to
me have been fighting other battles—discouragement, frustration, loneliness,
worry, anxiety—and the list goes on. At times, I feel guilty for the blessings
I have received. I see friends and family caught in a storm none of us can seem
to pass through, and it makes me wonder why so many wonderful things have been
given to me this year while those I love so much are stuck in a holding pattern
of sadness, frustration, and difficulty, and even I struggle daily to
understand how to be the best aunt to a nephew no one else will ever know,
whose accomplishments I won’t get to hang on my wall, whose hobbies I won’t get
to participate in.
I don’t have an answer. All I can
do is continue to trust and hope that someday soon, either the reason for these
difficulties will be made clear, or they will fade away, and those I love will
be given a measure of joy. And I will continue to be grateful for these
challenges, even when I don’t understand them, because I know there is purpose
that, someday, we will understand. And because I have been given joy, despite
everything, I will continue to try to shine the light of that joy into the
lives of others when it seems too dark to find it on their own.
It has been a beautiful, heartbreaking
year, and there’s no way I can leave much of it behind. Every day, I think of
Jaron and pray for our family, especially his mom, dad, and brother. Every day,
I think of my friends and family who are struggling with physical, mental, and
financial troubles that will continue into the coming year. Every day, I wonder
why I have been so blessed while others I love have not been blessed as
visibly. So, by the grace of God, I will move into this coming year, not with
any giant revelation to give the world, not with any piece of advice that I
feel might change the course of history. Instead, I will turn the calendar page
quietly and pray that I will be, in some way, a blessing in every life I touch,
whether from a distance or close by. That I will carry love, compassion, joy,
hope, and wonder into each day, no matter the struggles, and shine the light of
Christ into the darknesses I encounter.
I wish you all a blessed, hopeful
New Year, filled with good things, and filled with support to get through the
hard things. Happy New Year.
