Tonight, Christmas, I am gorging myself on cold mashed potatoes. Weird, I know, but I have always preferred them after they sit for a while and chilled out.
They make me happy. They bring back so many memories. I remember being at my grandma's sneaking more potatoes as we all cleaned up after a big Sunday meal. Or being teased mercilessly for going back for another serving at my other grandma's as the potatoes got to just the right temperature--in my eyes, anyway.
Those were beautiful memories. Warm. Comfortable.
Peace and calm. Something the last few years have not had many such days, let alone on holidays. The people, the noise, the lights, the over stimulation from every direction. I would get ready for the day, buy gifts, be all ready for a great day. Only to end up in tears with my stomach in knots because the day was too much; so much to take in and not enough time to breath.
Lately, there has been a lot of that--not enough time to breathe. Begging God for each breath as I hurt and struggle. I've wanted to give up. I've wanted to get help. I've laid out plans. I've talked myself out of each one since it was so unlikely to work. So many days.
But NOT today. Today, I watched my family open their gifts, hug various things to themselves, wonder why they got some of the things (hey a homeschooling mom has to sneak in something super educational, right?). I watched it all. I participated.
As the paper was being picked up, I realized, I had enjoyed it. I wasn't overwhelmed. I wasn't scared. I wasn't sick to my stomach and breathing didn't hurt. I whispered the truth into his his ear and his arms came around me with a peace and relaxations neither of us have felt for a long time. We breathed in and out together.
I have no idea what the next hour, days, weeks will hold, but for now, I am adding tonight to one of the wonderful memories gorging myself on cold mashed potatoes will always bring.