What
a difference a year can make.
I
woke up last year on New Year’s Day and breathed a sigh of relief before my
feet even hit the floor. 2013 was finally
over. That bad boy had been nothing but disappointment and had left me and CH
feeling like we’d been one too many rounds in a boxing match. We were so very, very happy to see it go.
As
I sit here on this New Year’s Day and reflect on the last 365 days, I’m struggling
to find the words to describe a year I had such anticipation for. The best I
can come up with is ambivalent, which
is probably only slightly better than the meh
CH used as we watched the Times Square ball drop last night. The past year was
certainly better than 2013—by leaps and bounds. But I don’t know that it was
entirely what I had in mind. The first 7 months started off almost as poorly as
the previous 12, with trials and disappointments and tears. The last 5 months were
an amalgam of shock, happiness, excitement, bewilderment, frustration, fear, busyness,
and overwhelment (which has led me to create a new word). The year 2014
was a whirlwind that I’m still trying to wrap my mind around.
But I don’t know that I’m going to spend too much time trying to process 2014. I
think I’m going to accept it for what it was and focus on 2015, which will be
an entirely new beast of its own. CH and I are about to enter the turbulent
waters of first-time parenting and parenting multiples, and neither of us has a
clue as to what we’re doing. But we have each other and a God who is bigger
than anything we have faced and anything we will face.
I
say, “Bring it.” CH says, “Here’s to one hell of a year.”
