Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were busy days full of presents, family, and food. We visited with my father-in-law’s side of the family, gathered as a church family for the children’s Christmas Eve service, came home for a few hours until Dad and the kids returned for midnight service. I slept for two hours until they came home. I tear up slightly as I type these words, wondering if maybe I could’ve pushed through.
Christmas morning was all I ever, always, hope for. My husband and I enjoyed each other’s company on our living room sofa, watching our children play with their toys. We ate our Christmas tree breakfast made of cinnamon rolls. We changed our clothes, finished our coffee, and headed back to my in-law’s house for the day. Later that evening, we visited the home of my husband’s grandma. It was a lovely day.
The day after Christmas I rested a little, but wanted to get the living room back in decent order. I felt a strange peace that doesn’t typically come on the day after Christmas. The advent calendar came down. The tree skirt was vacuumed and put away. The pile of lights on the floor, the ones earmarked for the outside of the house, all went back to the basement for storage. One by one I collected the stockings, smiled, and put them away.
Today has been a total day of absolute rest. I made it all the way through It’s My Turn by Ruth Bell Graham. I’d expected a longer autobiography similar to that of her husband’s Just As I Am, but it turned out to be small, bite-sized, almost blog like snippets of memories, stories, and insights on life. There’s something incredibly soothing in the perspective of an older woman reflecting, sharing, and looking back on her life.
The kids have been having a movie day with Dad. I think it’s good our kids will have memories of things they did with each of us. We have our special things that we do together, and they have their special things that they do together. It’s almost like we’re giving one another a gift. I know he relaxes when things are in order. He knows I need time to rest, read, and process. I like the ready partnership of noticing we have.
The other book I started on is Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. Between references in podcasts, articles, and several people over the past couple of years telling me I ought to read it, I finally made a point to check it out of the library. I’m intrigued and committed, but can’t tell yet if I’m going to like it. I appreciate the book that tells me just how bad the world is, but what sets my soul to sing are those reminders of the good.