The New Year always starts off with its own set of issues. To-do lists left over from last year stare us in the face, and we resolve to check items off with rapidity just as soon as we find homes for new gifts, pack up Holiday decorations, and settle the kids back into school. Left with the blank canvas of a whole year at our artful mercies, we resolve to tackle things that had been put off in the frenzied moments of December. And so new diets get started, new exercise regimens take hold, and new promises get made for all of those things that we've been meaning to do.

As I sit in my hotel room typing this Newsletter, I reflect on the events of the past three days as we've been settling Nick into college life down here in Winston-Salem, North Carolina...and preparing ourselves for his healthy and happy release.

Releasing is tough stuff. It requires shedding of the old and welcoming in the new. Offering up the closely-held things of the past and ushering in the unknown mysteries of the future.

Nick has had fourteen months to think about his future at Wake Forest University, where he has just officially enrolled as a freshman today. He's had fourteen months of anticipation, excitement and wonder at the unknown which lies just before him. Of wondering how he's going to mix classes with chemo. Or fraternizing with fatigue.

And his father and I have had that time to think about letting him go. Of leaving doctors and nurses—who have taken such excellent care of him these past fourteen months—and embracing new ones with the same love, trust and enthusiasm. Of learning new procedures, new hospitals and new tests. And in the process, navigating around a southern city—with southern grits and southern accents to boot. Of how he'll handle maintenance chemo without us checking up on him around the clock.

We've thought about what it'll feel like to drive back towards home. All 650 miles of it. About how it'll feel to no longer hear Nick's Doc Marten's clomping down the stairs from his third floor bedroom into the hallway. Or how our family will feel with one less teen. Quieter. Emptier.

Releasing one's child—like releasing old habits—does not come easily. But sometimes you just have to let go. You know the time has come and, hate it as you do, you have to see if those wings which you have worked so diligently to make strong, will hold that child up by himself.

A couple of dear friends of mine are releasing spouses at the start of the New Year. They're giving up marriages for reasons as different and as personal as they are. It's tough. It mixes things up. Turns worlds upside down. Touches children's lives in ways they never thought they'd have to reconcile. Forces them to fly solo when they'd been used t

Releasing also sometimes requires thinking about those things that we know we need to get rid of in our lives…as well as those things we know we must let go of over which we have little or no control. Releasing bad habits isn't exactly the easiest thing in the world to do. Perhaps you've resolved this year to eliminate baggage and clutter. Or stop smoking. Give up caffeine. Giving something up almost always leaves a void…as well as a nearly insatiable desire to fill up that space with something else. A different habit or activity. Or different people.

As you look out at the possibilities which this New Year holds for you and your family, first take some time to examine those things—or people—which need releasing. Maybe friendships need to be re-evaluated. Or family ties need to be strengthened—or bound more loosely. Perhaps you need to teach your child to be more independent. Or delicately encourage your aging mother to lean more heavily on your shoulders.

It's always more refreshing to start anew if old baggage has been properly dealt with. The New Year will most assuredly get off to a better start if you wipe the slate clean before scribbling your long list of should's and could's.

So personal reflection is the order of the day. Examining your life and listening to that still voice deep inside you will help you release as needed. Or hold onto people and things that need holding onto.

I look forward to exploring the possibilities of the New Year with you. With enthusiasm and expectant optimism.