It’s late, and my mind is full of words. With all there is to do, writing is the thing I engage, sorting out what is floating around in my head and my heart. Maybe cranking out a blog post will make me feel less cranky. Maybe not.
Photo Christmas cards have been in my possession since before Thanksgiving. This year I actually used a coupon on time to get money off of the card order. I purchased stamps to have ready to mail the cards out as soon as they were addressed. And they sit waiting. Half are addressed, half are not. One has been mailed. A few have been hand-delivered.
There are sparse decorations around the house. Several red and green tubs remain in the basement, but the thrift-store trees are up. The littles hung their ornaments on the living room tree. My tree is up with minimal decoration. The special ornament bin remains in the basement. Lights, birds, a Starbucks cup gift card, and chocolate ball ornaments adorn it this year. They are enough. They have to be.
An adult child has made his way home. Another will arrive with her spouse on Christmas Eve. The third will savor a quiet few days off at her home out-of-town, because that is what her body and heart need this year. I get it. Though she will be missed, I rejoice in her voicing her needs. I put a package in the mail for her today. I think there was a Christmas card in it.
There are still preparations being made, gifts being purchased, menus being solidified. There are plans in a constant state of flux and surprises at every turn, both good and hard.
This is my reality. It is challenging. This morning as longings for something else, something different, gripped me fierce, I remembered that my reality may be another’s longing. Loving husband, crazy kids, time off of work, options and choices, health, these are my good gifts to receive and embrace and, yes, to wrestle with in the hard.
Check, baby, check, baby 1,2,3. . .