This year is only one in a pot of many and as it comes to a close, I ask myself, what will you remember?

I’ll remember this was the year I offered the magic of an elf to the children, who in not so very long, would be wise to the mother behind the fleeting creature.

I’ll remember this was the year that my four children were all at school after eleven years of always having a little person at home and the relief that I expected hadn’t arrived.

I’ll remember this was the year that I learned about patience and waiting and hoping and gracefully accepting defeat and convincing my mind to obey the heart that knows sometimes hearing no means a better yes.

I’ll remember this was the year that my middle son said aloud that he felt like he got the garbage of the family and I realized, my heart stabbed, he was right.

I’ll remember this was the year that I looked at my family and I wondered how it was even possible to give all of them a bit of me without losing myself in the process and yet, I did, both.

I’ll remember this was the year that I realized, accepted and acknowledged that our Amos has special needs and they aren’t the type you grow out of, even at three.

I’ll remember this was the year I began writing and sharing my heart, hopeful that a bit of real may make the world a kinder place and surprised to find I was the one who has become kinder.

I’ll remember this was the year that my oldest son wavered between my child and my peer, his maturity and love worn on the sleeve of the grappling boy, like me, learning the hardship and gift of giving your heart to a little boy named Amos.

I’ll remember this was the year that my daughter flew up the stairs to stand in a long line to see Santa and as she whispered her Christmas wish, I thought of the crying toddler petrified of the man who was once her foe and longed to know her whispered secret.

I’ll remember this was the year that I learned that sometimes, no matter how hard you wish, life follows a path that is not your own.

I’ll remember this was the year that I joined the village of families with special needs and it was as wonderful as a place that I had imagined could only be on the other side of the rainbow.

I’ll remember this was the year that I cried enough tears to flood the banks of a river and felt my heart fill with the kind of love that I hadn’t known existed in the realm of motherhood.

I’ll remember this was the year that my young son placed his hands on my mouth and smiled gleefully as I talked and sang and I knew he longed to utter the words that still eluded his big hopeful heart.