A few weeks ago, on a particularly chilly day in December, I was running errands with my kids when we saw the most beautiful sundog. The rainbow reflections were stunning and formed a near-complete circle around the top of the bright sun. “I can’t take a picture while driving,” I lamented, “but this is gorgeous!” My eight-year-old daughter offered to take the picture for me and while she expertly navigated to the camera on my phone, I rolled down the window to give her a better view. The blast of frigid air caused my daughter to burst into giggles as her brother screamed. Through chattering teeth she snapped a few photos before quickly rolling up the window. Later that night, I smiled as I remembered the moment and looked at the picture my daughter had taken. It is not a great picture, it’s a bit sideways and half of the sundog is missing. But, it is the best picture as it captures the memory so perfectly: a moment of giggles and beauty in the midst of an ordinary day. 

As I sat down to write this New Year’s post, I realized her picture is a good representation of my past year. Full of beauty. But, also a bit lopsided and incomplete. It wasn’t the year I expected.

Our family had a difficult end to 2025 which has meant that the start of 2026 has been challenging. In December, we received news of a required career change for my husband, and just one week after this unexpected blow, my eleven-year-old son had an accident that necessitated two surgeries, a three-night hospital stay and a long road of healing ahead. It is challenging to write a New Year’s post while still in the immediate aftermath of these traumatic events. I am reminded of a post I wrote years ago, “Stuck in the Muck.” And, goodness, do I feel like I am currently in the muck. 

However, similar to that post, where I was challenged to look for hope, joy, and beauty in the little things, I still see glimmers of hope frequently, even now. On New Year’s Eve, my son and I snacked on cookies and shared our highs and lows of the year . We had some pretty tough lows, including his recent accident. But, we had some really lovely highs, including many fun trips, summer adventures, and time with family and friends. Then, as he sat at the table in his wheelchair, still navigating significant pain, my son reflected thoughtfully, “I guess there were a lot more highs than lows. I think this was a pretty good year.” I still tear up a little just thinking about it, his bravery in remembering joy, despite it all. This reminded me that life is full of both: it is hard and it is full of joy. There are painful accidents and there are also New Year’s Eve cookies and conversations. There are feelings of helplessness and fear and also feelings of gratitude and connection. Life is full of complexity. Life often has an and.

This is how “and” became my chosen “word of the year” for 2026. In the past, I have shared my words of the year: thrive, dream, heart, breathe, focus. Each year, I enjoy the opportunity to think about the new year, what my goals and dreams are, and to find a word that embodies what I hope to focus on. However, this year felt different. The fear of the unknown, the patience required in transitions and healing, the uncertainty of next steps, all of it felt overwhelming. As I contemplated the unexpected challenges facing my family in the new year, I was struck with a realization that there is still an and in our story.  There are health and employment worries, and there is also laughter in lopsided pictures and wisdom shared over cookies. My word this year is a reminder that life is complex but the story doesn’t end with a simple sentence.

I am reminded of a post Wendi wrote, where she reminded us that life frequently has both sorrow and joy. She wrote, “I’m comforted knowing there’s an underlying current of “both” present in all of life. Even in moments of darkness, when all I feel is despair, I hold onto a tiny sliver of trust that joy is still present, even if it’s not visible to me at the time.” I think this is what I want this year, the reminder of both. When I am stuck in the muck, whether it is this initial stage of transition and healing, or a future unexpected trial, I want to remember to add the and. For example, as I write this post, my emotions are still raw as I struggle to process the last month, and tomorrow is Saturday morning, my favorite day of the week, where I know I’ll get to eat toast, drink tea, and watch cartoons with my kids. A reminder of life’s and. 

On New Years day, I read a Facebook post by Anne Lamott, who wrote about the word “new” in New Year: 

“When nothing new can get in, that’s death. When oxygen can’t find a way in, you die. New is scary, and new can be disappointing, and confusing: Here we thought we had it all figured out, and now it turns out we don’t. But new is life. New is aliveness. New is being curious again, which is an awakening. So yeah—shoot me some new.

I have never tried to hide the fact that I am way more anxious than the average bear, even though I have a deep faith in the goodness of God. I do believe that all evidence to the contrary, Grace bats last. So I say bring it on, with my heart in my throat. Courage is fear that has said its prayers.”

This is what I want to believe as we head into this new year: new, aliveness, faith, and courage. I am not there yet, I am still stuck in the muck of worry, but I am getting there…I can see the “ands,” and right now that is enough. 

Here’s to us all finding courage in the new and the joy mixed in with the challenges. Here’s to 2026!

Next New Year will probably look different again, and maybe I will return to a more traditional goal-setting post. If that is what you are looking for, check out a previous post. This is my seventh Unexpected Ever Afters New Year post (Click to read 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023, 2024, and 2025).  Thanks for continuing to join me on these New Years journeys! 

Jessica is a wife, mom, social worker, and writer.  She is co-author of the blog The Unexpected Ever Afters.