I'm lucky not just in what I have, but in being strong enough to have worked for it.

I don’t know how you feel about the word “lucky”. I find that most people have either one or two reactions to it. For some, it means something different than for others. 

As I sit here and think to myself that I’m lucky to have such a good life with good people in it, I recognize it’s more than just good fortune; it’s a product of my efforts and choices.

We say things like, “I’m so lucky to have love in my life.” For those who get it, they bow their heads and give a smile. Yes. We’re all lucky for what we have, but it’s also a testament to the work we’ve put into building that life. 

Then, there’s that other voice in my head and in the crowd that gives the response that many reading this are giving right now. 

Luck’s got nothing to do with it. 

And I get that too. 

It takes work to bring yourself to a place of happiness. Any successes I have in my professional life have been because of the work I put into it. When I set a goal and made a plan, I stuck to it. I shifted priorities to make my luck happen.  

The same is true for my family. I bet on myself many times and risked everything I had to find everything that I deserved. The luck I had to share the holidays with my children, my girlfriend Lauren, her son Christian, and her family was felt in my soul, but I knew that we all worked together to make it what it was. Whether it was buying food or finding each other, things don’t happen by magic. You work for it. You find it. You make it a priority. 

When it comes to the kids, that part should be easy, but it’s not. Kids take work too. Raising a teenager means understanding them and acting accordingly. You raise them to be the people you want them to be and try to recognize what quirks or ways of thinking they share with you. I’m so proud of who my daughter has become. I’m lucky to have her, but it wasn’t simply luck that made her this way. 

This brings me to Lucas – my non-verbal twelve-year-old boy whose adorable face is all over the homepage here. I can honestly tell everyone here that my little fella with autism is one of the greatest treasures I could have ever asked for in my life. I am so, so lucky to have him. 

If you’ve read this blog before, you’re thinking, “Well, no duh.” 

But if you’re a newcomer, it might sound like a strange statement. Non-verbal with autism and pronounced delays in comprehension that will require care well into adulthood? Lucky? Come on. 

This is what they warn parents about. This is the stuff that conspiracy theories prey upon. Don’t feed your kids bad food. Don’t get them needle-poked. Don’t do anything that could possibly lead you down the worst path of all. 

The path that my son and I are on. 

Don’t get me wrong. I can absolutely understand the fear someone outside my situation might have. Before I had Lucas, I never would have understood the point of view I have now. You don’t know how you can handle a situation until you’re truly in it. Parents don’t set out to ensure their child has special needs.  

I also don’t think everyone can be a parent to a child with special needs. That’s the most ironic twist to all this. Literally, anyone can have a child with a disability and be tasked with their care. But not everyone can truly do it. Not everyone can be the person that a child needs in their life. 

When it comes to Lucas, for me, there was never an issue with taking care of him. I always felt like, as his dad, I made this boy. I brought him here. He didn’t ask to be born. Not only did I invite him to this party of life, I literally made him attend.

His care is my duty. It was never a thought to do anything else. He needs me. I’m here. That’s all there is to it. I know that Lauren feels the same way about Christian. We see our boys the same way. I’m lucky to have her. I’m lucky to have both of them.

Does handling Lucas’s day-to-day care make me lucky? Nah. Then again, having to run to Target to get my daughter something she urgently needs doesn’t make me lucky. They’re both the rough parts of raising my kids. They’re both prominent parts of the big picture. 

The only difference is that most people don’t primarily think about the parenting duties that go into raising my daughter. They focus on things like how she’s growing up, doing well in school, and “still Daddy’s girl.” They discuss all the good and the bad is an aside we joke about after. “Yeah, she’s great, but she’s also the reason my hair is so gray.” Har-har-har. Go on, ya scamp. 

For my boy, I know people think about the hardships first. That’s why I try to remind everyone of how truly special he is. The relationship I have with this kid is unlike anything else. 

There’s no one like Lucas. No one. His personality is so unique and his intentions so pure that he’s a constant breath of fresh air in every situation. While the world may be burning down around me, Lucas is tapping me on the shoulder for Pirate Booty. 

I’m lucky. I’m lucky that I came out of that quintuple bypass eleven years ago. I’m lucky I’m here today to be surrounded by the love I have. But it’s more than that. It’s the strength and resilience to keep pushing forward, to keep building this life, that really defines my luck. It’s the work I’ve put into every relationship, every challenge, that makes me feel fortunate. I’m lucky not just in what I have, but in being strong enough to have worked for it. 

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