changing

When Did We Stop Listening?

I almost never watch the news. Honestly, I can’t stand it.

But this week, during an hour-long nail appointment, the television was on. In that short time, I heard stories of a shooting at an ICE facility in Dallas, a semi-truck being pursued by police in Anaheim, and a stabbing at a school on the East Coast. And of course, you’d have to be living under a rock not to have heard about the Charlie Kirk shooting.

It struck me how much heaviness, violence, and grief can fill just sixty minutes of airtime. For me, that’s exactly why I usually avoid tuning in. Still, the stories linger, and they’ve left me chewing on something deeper: when did we stop listening?

Over the last twenty plus years, we’ve gotten very good at talking. With social media, 24-hour news, and endless platforms, everyone has a microphone, and everyone wants to be heard. But somewhere along the way, listening seems to have fallen out of practice.

When did we stop breaking bread with friends and neighbors and really trying to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes? Right, left, polka dot, or rainbow—it doesn’t matter the label. When did our brains stop stretching to see the world from another vantage point? When did the sound of our individual voices grow louder than the sound of voices bonded together—as Americans, as human beings, as family by blood or by choice?

Lately, I’ve struggled most with understanding the tragedy around Charlie Kirk. The things I’ve learned about him since his death make me wish I’d paid more attention before. But more than that, I keep coming back to his widow. Watching her carry herself with such strength in public, knowing the depth of pain and grief she must be enduring, moves me deeply. I imagine how all she must want is to pull the covers over her head and wish it all away.

And I find myself asking: when did the world become a place where taking another person’s life was seen as an acceptable way of dealing with conflict? When did celebrating the loss of someone’s husband and father become okay?

Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s the season of life I’m in. But I feel like I see things through different glasses now. I long for a time when I could keep my babies close and not have to trust this cruel world to spare them. These days, my heart aches as I wonder where all of this is headed.

I don’t have tidy answers. But I do know this: the more cruelty I see, the more convinced I become that compassion is the only way forward. Listening doesn’t mean agreeing. It doesn’t mean silencing your own beliefs. It means making space, honoring another perspective, and remembering that life is fragile, sacred, and shared.

Maybe the first step is simple. Notice how much we talk. Notice how little we listen. And choose, in small ways, to listen again.

Because the sound of voices joined together—not in anger, not in argument, but in genuine listening—is still one of the most powerful sounds in the world.

Blessings Y’all. Pray for each other and our country.

Amy

A Little News and a Lot of Anxiety

Twenty plus years ago I was told I had Hashimoto’s. All I remember a the time was being told it was an autoimmune disorder and that I needed to make sure we kept my thyroid levels in balance. Given that I’ve been on thyroid medicine since about four months after Em was born didn’t seem life altering.

What I didn’t know over the ensuing twenty years of fighting to keep my thyroid levels stable through insurance insisting on generic thyroid medicine my body didn’t respond to (and being told I was crazy because I thought that), ups and downs in my levels due to weight gain and loss, hair loss, dry skin, and just general life was that that diagnosis meant my body was attacking itself and slowly killing off my thyroid.

In December of 2022 my company changed insurance companies. What ensued was the gluten free thyroid medicine I had finally gotten stable on for almost five years no longer being an approved medicine. Being shoved onto generic thyroid hormone that sent my body into a cycle of weight gain, hair loss, and general yuck. When Tim and I got married he did the research and we figured out how to go back to the right medicine albeit it of pocket. Though that was fall of 2023 we’ve fought all this time to get my thyroid to stabilize. Finally in February after another off kilter set of labs my GYN said “you have to see an endocrinologist”. Back story there – I hate endocrinologists. Between the fact that they are insanely smart humans usually who don’t know how to relate to you and listen to you when you talk and the one that prescribed Fred medicine and didn’t follow up on him thus leading to his kidney failure I’ve got no patience for them. My GP and GYN have managed my thyroid for years.

I procrastinated until end of February and finally got a referral sent to Tim’s endocrinologist. The ONE I actually like cause he listens to Tim and isn’t a condescending human. We expected it to be months before I could get in and after ten days without a phone call was surprised to finally get one Monday – with an opening the next day. Still calling that a God thing.

Dr. Burney walked in, sat down, and said tell me what’s up with your thyroid. IMMEDIATELY went to food…doctors don’t do that…and explained that Hashi’s patients can’t eat gluten. It inflames the gut and limits the absorption of the medicine. Do you know how many other docs had dismissed my saying I noticed a difference when I didn’t eat gluten even though I was negative for Celiac???

First change he made was saying from here on out it’s a strict gluten free diet. Also an unprocessed chemical free (whole foods) as much as possible. Hashi’s patients bodies attack foreign stuff and get inflamed and that prevents absorption of the medicine. Next up is continuing with getting some more of the weight off. The goal is to get me to ONE pill a day of the thyroid medicine so that if I’m going to pay for it out of pocket it’s not three boxes every six weeks to the tune of $185.

Then he took a look at my thyroid. It’s dead and gone. Shriveled up and fibrotic. The out of control Hashi’s has done its thing and I’ll be on the hormone therapy the rest of my life. As it has sunk it that how I feel will be a direct correlation to how I take care of myself for the rest of my life the more overwhelmed I’ve felt. Those close to me can tell you – the one thing I am worst at is taking care of me. And there is something different between choosing gluten free and being told it’s not an option anymore. As much as we travel it makes it a challenge.

I’m still exhausted, still have very little energy, and that’s as much mental exhaustion as it is physical. I have so much I want to do and right now nothing is cooperating. I am trying to lean into the amazing support that my hubby and kids are being but it’s hard. I am also angry. The ONE thyroid medicine most effective for Hashi’s patients most insurance companies don’t like and thus won’t pay for. To me that’s like saying you won’t pay for insulin for a diabetic. How dare you? Who made them God? It’s maddening.

If anyone with Hashi’s is reading this – your diet is as important as the medicine. You have more control than just the medicine. Take control and keep your thyroid functioning as long as you can.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Another Goodbye, A Closing, and A New Year

This one has been bouncing around in my brain the last few weeks and I’ve been trying to sort through so many emotions. Figure I’ll sort it out here like I always do lol. The Irving house finally found its new owners. About a week ago another tumor took our sweet Paris. And inexplicably a new year is upon us.

We signed the papers on the Irving house four years to the day of when I unpacked the last box, hung the last picture, and posted the before and after video of the renovation from moving into Turtle Summit. Funny sometimes how God’s timing works. I’ve been trying to put my mind around the emotions there, cause there are some, but can’t quite get there. When I reflect back on who I was then…man.

Four years ago I was so angry. So tired. So overwhelmed. So afraid. If I dared to crack open one of my prayer journals I can almost promise you those prayers read something like “give me my life back” or “rewind the clock”. My children were leaving home, my husband was gone, and I had absolutely no idea who I was. And quite frankly I was crazy. Out of my mind flipping crazy. I look back on that person and wonder where she came from and thank God every day that he put the right tools and people in my path to get me through.

As I look around today? My list of blessings is as overwhelming as that list of pain and sorrow was. A home I never could have dreamed this small town girl would ever have. A man I adore who loves me beyond measure. A job that challenges me and pushes me to keep growing even when I’d like a minute to breathe.

Last weekend we said goodbye to another of our fur babies. She was older but we weren’t ready. She had a tumor in her ear that they couldn’t promise us wasn’t in her brain. She was in pain and not herself. We kept the promise we made each other not to prolong our babies lives for our own inability to say goodbye. But less than three months after losing Hope it just made the grief hole rip open again. The energy in the house has shifted again and the three remaining girls are tying to find a new rhythm. They are very clingy to us and hate when we leave the house.

Tim and I’s word for 2025 is “intentional”. So often we find ourselves at the end of a week, month, or year having just responded to all that came at us instead of acting intentionally towards our goals. We want to work on the goals we have set and live life on our terms. I think some of that is a result of seeing what we accomplished when we set our mind to it with the house. Not sure. We just know that as we heal from some of what 2024 took from us and embrace some of what it gave us we have big plans.

I am waking up at night with my mind and my heart racing. Anxiety coursing through me that I can’t identify. I thought it was the house. But with that settled not sure what it is. Work is out of control busy so maybe it’s that. But I know that if I turn it over to God and just lift it in prayer it’ll resolve itself in time. Just takes the one thing hardest for me – faith.

What are you reflecting on in as we close out 2024?

—Amy

The Ugly Side of Moving

I’ll preface this with I am well aware that I am beyond blessed. The manner in which all the pieces of the current season of life fell into place is nothing short of God’s grace. But for someone with anxiety being in a constant state of chaos has a price.

My sweet husband keeps telling me “it’ll be ok”. Along with “we’ll get there” and “it’s not a race”. What I can’t convey, what I don’t seem to be able to put into words, is that living in constant chaos makes me feel unsafe. I have not one place – at home OR at work – that I can get a deep breath. Ironically the only place that is “normal” right now is my truck….and being in it as much as I have been lately is very not normal.

At work the pressure is unbearable. My own relentless self expectation to not let anyone down who is counting on me on top of what’s flowing downstream because of trying to get an entire office moved left me in my office crying today. When I come home there is something that needs my attention or to be put away every where I turn. Sheer exhaustion means I break, drop, or misplace almost everything I touch. Never mind accuracy at what I’m attempting to process at the office. Tim had to go tonight to work on the old house so it will be ready to be put on the market. In my efforts to get SOMETHING productive done I managed to dent the drywall and break one of my favorite lamps in the space of 30 minutes.

My brain feels like what is left of one of my favorite lamps.

Tim keeps telling me to relax. Trying to explain to him that my mind won’t LET me relax when everywhere I look there is something that needs to be done is a concept that doesn’t register with most people. I know, logically, that moving is probably one of the most stressful things we do as an adult. I have moments where I can catch a glimpse of what life will be like if we ever get to the other side of this mountain. But lack of sleep and being in a constant state of chaos and overwhelmed is robbing some of the joy that I think I should be getting from this. I come across as angry when I know I’m not. It seems to be the only emotion that is coming out with any regularity.

Tim says he can fix the dent in the drywall. And I have another lamp. And work will always just be work. Just wish I could relax, get some more sleep, learn how to leave the piles at work and at home without the doomsday feeling….and most definitely I am never moving again. Ever.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Anxiety Sucks

So for whatever reason I’ve never been one of those types of people who do things the easy way. Whether through luck of dealing with the *stuff* life dishes out or just being late out of the starting gate on major decisions I tend to have an avalanche of changes all at the same time. For an anxiety sufferer that it gets worse with age? FML.

I am writing this from about 30k feet somewhere between DFW and Seattle on our way to the Alaska trip we’ve had in the works with the hubster and my MIL’s for almost a year. I am trying to remember a time I had such a struggle even getting OUT the door for a trip. Between Hope’s diagnosis, the house buying process going on at home, being on the cusp of the fall rush at work, scheduling moving personally (and oh yah professionally come October), and a full scale change of my mental health meds? This girl is on some shaky ground. Sobbing as I left the house today….gently pushing Hope back in the house as she tried to follow me out like she has been doing in her cling on phase here lately….there was a moment when Tim looked at me and said “honey if you want to stay home it really is ok”. And a second moment where I really truly almost did just that. Not sure even he realizes how close I came to stepping back through that door.

But I am blessed with a daughter who loves my fur kids as much as I do. A bestie in that same group. Another bestie who is a rock star realtor giving everyone what for on the purchase of our house. Family who is coming up late next week to take a shift with the dogs. A hubby who put cameras up in the house so I can get an eyeball full of the babies whenever I need (which ironically is the ONLY thing that doesn’t work on this plane’s WIFI). Remote access to the office so I can stay caught up and not add being behind to it all. Even in my worst anxiety attack when I remember to breathe I know I am blessed. But dang it it takes a hot minute sometimes. When did anxiety become part of our culture and everyday life for so many of us? Is it the unrelenting pressure to always be, perform, do? Anyone got any non-pharmaceutical tips and tricks for kicking that beast to the curb permanently?

I’m blessed with a great counselor who always has plenty to help me. My biggest issue is IN the moment, like when I was walking out the door looking in Hope’s sad eyes today, none of them are larger than the fear, doubt, and paralyzing anxiety. I described it to someone today like standing on the edge of a cliff. On one hand I’m looking over my shoulder afraid I’m gonna miss something at home if I go. On the other I’m looking at the jump afraid something bad is gonna happen if I don’t go. I get caught up in the who I’m gonna hurt or what “damage” I’m gonna cause…and my “gut” I have relied on instinctively for so many years? That stupid thing fled the building about four years ago. And the real biotch of it all is that if I’m not careful I will miss something this week while we’re off doing something I normally love…and seeing something through my husband’s eyes that lights his fire the way the Caribbean does mine.

It all just sucks. There are no easy answers and no “quick” fixes. Only solution is to strap on the iron underpants and ride it out. When the year is done and everything levels out I know we’ll be hella proud of the things we decided on as a couple and the progress we made. We’re headed towards small(er) town life that has always made me happy. But we have a long fourth quarter in front of us….

Blessings y’all – Amy

Fearful and Fretful

Can you remember a single “ah ha” moment when you realized that life was happening to you instead of you being in control of your future? I haven’t had a lot of those but there are times God takes out a billboard in my face to make sure I don’t miss it.

All around me people I love are struggling. Some with the pain of recent loss of loved ones. Family with new challenges that are unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Others still facing the same old cycle of anxiety and depression kicking their butt. It is my habit to take on these emotions and let them guide me to a place that isn’t healthy for me while I attempt to make sure people I love and hold dear are “ok”.

I was programmed from a very very early age that my role was to take care of others. As I look back on the last couple of weeks through the filter of seeing myself in others’ eyes I have realized that I’ve mistaken fear for selflessness. It’s been EASIER to live a life taking care of others than it has been to push myself out of my comfort zone. It’s been EASIER to base my decisions on where I presume I am most needed instead of what is best for me.

My counselor says F.E.A.R. means “False Evidence Appearing Real”. How easy it is to convince myself I “have” to do something because I’m needed, the only person who can do it, blah blah blah. The evidence is that those around me would get by without my help. Perhaps even stand stronger if I’d stop trying to do it for them. How easy it is to let fear allow me to put what I need or know will make me happy on the back burner so someone I care about can be.

Tim and I are have some major life decisions in front of us. I’m paralyzed with fear over them. Dumbfounded by how much the childhood mantra I live with is playing in my head – you don’t deserve that, you aren’t good enough for that, you can’t do that. It’s cast a giant light over my life as a whole (maybe this is a mid-life crisis?) and I don’t like what I see. Fear has guided too many of my decisions and kept me in the survivor role instead of the drivers seat. I so badly want to change that….

Anyway, I’m rambling. The message here is focus on life and not the fear. The fear will always be there – how much control I give the fear and the fretting is only determined by me. It is such a hard habit to break…but I am determined. Mostly. If my body would cooperate that would be fabulous – panic attacks that leave me on the bathroom floor aren’t so fun.

What decisions in your life have you looked back and realized were only fear based?

Blessings Y’all – Amy

Real Effects of Stress

Ever had your mind spin so much when you lay down at night that, despite complete exhaustion, sleep eludes you? How about a jaw ache from clenching your teeth subconsciously for days on end? Dry skin, thyroid completely blown out of whack, digestion a joke, tension headaches, and a masseuse unable to relax the knots in your neck, lower back, and calves? How about massive weight gain despite very little of what you eat sticking with you? Tears that flow without warning and the inability to make decisions that previously you wouldn’t have even had to think about?

I wouldn’t say I am under much more stress than I ever have been in various times in my career but something about getting older (or maybe living with someone who points out what’s broken) is giving me fits. When I started to resent the effort it took to prepare to travel and recover from travel we knew we had an issue to address. We’ve been meeting with different doctors now for a few weeks and have some plans in place but at the moment my body is still being uncooperative.

For the first time in a long time this last week I napped. More than once. I had a couple of nights where I actually achieved 6-7 hours of sleep (my average is 3-5). My jaw stopped aching and I was able to say “I want to do that” not “we can do whatever you/they want”. As we got closer to returning to land the restless broken sleep returned and the jaw ache returned. So my options are to move out onto a body of water (!) or figure out how to better process and handle stress.

Seeing a break in the physical symptoms of stress has made them so much larger than they have been in the past to me. As a survivor, both from a birth defect that left me in and out of hospitals my entire life, to an abusive childhood, to being a widow at a too young age I barely recognize anymore what my brain does to be body. It’s just part of life.

Apparently…that is wrong thinking. I have four great doctors in my corner now that are determined we will turn this ship around. Tests show I have Hashimoto’s and my thyroid is not getting enough medicine (which makes sense when you have a stomachache 5 mornings out of 7). Armed with a supportive husband wiling to try anything – including sleeping with music on and a diffuser going – to help me sleep we’re working on sleep hygiene. TV being off and phones put down a few hours before bed. Taking a sleep apnea test next week to make sure I’m getting enough air. And as much as I love reading I have to switch to a) doing it with a real book not a screen at night and b) not doing it while I eat.

We are going to have to do an elimination diet to figure out what else besides gluten has my stomach so PO’d since the gastro dr ruled out anything other than what we already know I have. That will be harder on my husband than me because it involves lot more restrictions than he already endures with his diabetes. Did I mention he hates veggies? Together we’ve decided to focus on sleep first then add this next layer.

Both Tim and I have adapted the “whatever it takes” mentality. We are less than a decade from retirement (we hope) and for me to enjoy the post working years I have to be healthy. I have to learn to prioritize a work life balance. To take ten minutes in the morning to wash my face or pack a healthy meal for lunch. To take moments during the day to practice the meditation exercises both the doctor and my counselor have given me. To silence the constant barrage in my head of did I do enough, work hard enough, or am I enough? To find the ability to say “NO”.

I suspect it also means a ramp up on my writing as I find it very therapeutic. But I am going to maintain my “when I feel called to write” mentality instead of my “have to” list. I have been promised that with sleep will come energy and mental clarity. With energy will come exercise and enthusiasm for my garden, my home, and my cooking again.

If you have any yoga or meditations apps/programs you recommend send them my way. And all the prayers you can spare.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Focus on the Fruit

It’s no struggle to those in my inner circle that life is pretty much kicking my behind right now. Work is the toughest it’s been in my 12 years of working there. I leave frustrated, angry, and exhausted more days than not. Sleep is elusive (it’s 3 am right now) and there is something going on with my health that they haven’t quite figured out yet. If it wasn’t for Tim, my kids, my dogs, and my friends I’m not sure I’d be sane. Tim is quite literally my refuge each and every day – Tuesday I got out of the truck and walked straight into his arms crying. Those kinds of days can wear you down like nothing else.

Every now and then I get an urge to turn on a sermon and it gets stronger until I listen to it. Tuesday night there was no ignoring it. I don’t search for a specific one – I cue up the church I follow and hit play on whatever shows up first. As always, it was a message that I guess God knew I needed. It’s happened before but it never fails to amaze me.

The sermon was entitled “Don’t Tap Out, Tap In”. I’ve listened to it twice and have gotten something different out of it each time. The main thing being that in wrestling “tapping out” means “ok, I’ve had enough, let me up”. In life, as it wears us down we are inclined to tap out. Throw up our hands and say “I’ve had enough of _______(insert an area of life that is wearing you down)”. Being honest – that has been on my mind a lot lately in regards to work. Have I had enough? Is the stress on my body slowly killing me and taking me too early from my family? Am I happy? Am I fulfilled? Am I letting it take too much of my spirit?

Heavy questions. The pastor goes on to say that in life we have four things….fight, fire, a fence, and the future. The Devil is a quiet serpent that sneaks into those areas and moves us away from God and away from the life He has planned for us.

I live my life in a fight. Fighting to be good enough, fighting to do everything for everyone, fighting to protect my bosses bottom line due to a loyalty that runs deep, fighting to keep wayward employees on path and in processes that have been proven to work, fighting to not disappoint anyone….the list is long. That fight, and the anger it produces, keeps me from focusing on the fruit in my life. God knows how much more fruit I have in my life right now that I have had in years. I have a man that loves me, I have a home I love, I have children who are grown and make me proud every day, I have a new family that supports me in every way, and I have the ability to travel and to see the world…THAT list is long too.

But most days? What I talk about, what consumes me, is the fight. How I didn’t get enough done. How I failed to enforce processes that protect the company. How someone else’s mediocrity created more work for me and drove me crazy in the process. What I hear in my head over and over is I didn’t fight hard enough and thus I failed. I think the reason this sermon pulled me up so short is finally realizing that. Why am I allowing anything to steal my joy? Even a job I’d tell you on my worst days that I still love.

Enter the fence we all have. Otherwise known as boundaries depending on who is speaking. What I have to do now that I have had this realization is erect a fence. A TALL electric and barbed wire lined fence. Turn my eyes to the future and what I want from it and use that to put bull dogs along the fence and end the fight.

Here’s the hard part. Can I do that? Can I change course on 45 years of being a people pleasing perfectionist? I can’t help but think if God wanted me to receive this message and have these realizations that there is hope that I can. I know it’ll take a lot of work. It will take mentally slapping myself over and over again until I get it. It will take probably disappointing people who count on me but hoping they understand in the long run I’m better healthy than I ever could be as I am now. It’ll take prayer and a lot of faith in God’s plans for me.

If you know me, if you are close to me, don’t hesitate to tell me when the fight consumes me that I need to focus on my fruit. Kick my butt if you have to. It’ll take my village to change these habits but I need to change them. I can’t keep on as I am. Humans need sleep and food to be healthy and happy.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Calendar of Tears

For Christmas I gave Tim a calendar that contained all of the special people in our lives birthdays, anniversaries, important events. I also noted a small heart on days that are anniversaries/days that can be trigger days for me or have special significance.

Talking to Em last week after Mom’s birthday about us being able to take a breath after February I sort of put together in my head why those small hearts on Tim’s calendar mattered. The calendar of my life is marked with days to look out for, anticipate, pray over, and sometimes shed tears. A calendar littered with tears…I’ll explain.

In the aftermath of early grief those days – anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, special memories – they are like a tidal wave slamming into you and taking the breath out of you. What I have found is that as time moves on you don’t quite know on those days if you are going to get a tidal wave or just a lapping at your ankles. Call me crazy but the uncertainty is almost worse.

As I have grown older the calendar has become littered with “seasons” that have nothing to do with the weather. Periods of weeks or months where the bracing for the wave or the splash is just endless. December is a bad one. February is another. And by some odd quirk of dates there is a six week period from April 24th to June 5th that marks off when Mom died (4/24), PawPaw (5/14), and Fred (6/5). The three most important people in Em and I’s lives died within three weeks of each other on the calendar – just different years.

Some would say “why not just ignore those dates if they hurt” (yes I’ve had that said to me). For me that is also the same as saying to me “why don’t you just forget them?” Sounds pretty dumb huh? But it doesn’t work like that. Ignoring pain doesn’t make it go away. It gives it power and strength. Acknowledging them, celebrating them, speaking of them – that’s where the healing begins. It’s allowing yourself to remember they loved you and you loved them.

This last anniversary of Fred and I’s wasn’t special in terms of a big number or any particular significance . He’s been gone almost six years and we would have been married for sixteen. But this year was the tidal wave. Not a bad one mind you – God brought some pretty awesome memories to the day – but a tidal wave nonetheless. It’s hard to miss someone. It’s harder still when life is moving on and you are really happy.

I heard a sermon today that the message was “I’m not done with you yet, there is more to the story”. Move forward, you aren’t finished yet. Those words lifted my heart in ways I can’t yet explain to you. But what an awesome message.

I couldn’t have said this a few years ago but what if all those tears on the calendar are just part of God’s story for me? For my kids? I’ve seen those tears shape all of us in ways I know we wouldn’t have changed on our own. If we think about our pain having a purpose does it make it easier to bear?

I’ll never stop acknowledging those special days. I know there will be additions to the calendar as I age and those that are older still leave me too. But maybe I’ve reached a point I can understand that sometimes we need the tears each year to continue to wash what hurts and clear the path of where we’re meant to go.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Did You More Than Survive?

For those of you that dread the holidays – I’m talking to you! How are you feeling today? Did you thrive yesterday or just survive? Or did you, like me, perhaps find a new version of Christmas?

I woke up today reflective. Appreciative of getting through yesterday without tears and without pain that takes my breath away. Those were new. I went to bed last night without an aching back or aching feet from having cooked all day – we ordered in breakfast to chill-ax with presents longer. I didn’t stress out over “did I remember to text everyone” or “did she or didn’t she REALLY like my gift”? I think some of the easier is coming with age and some of it was from being surrounded with two people who love me beyond all things – it was about the time together. This was Tim’s first we-aren’t-leaving-our-PJ’s-today Christmas and he was all about it. With the kids grown and all doing their own thing it does lend a simplicity to the holidays that think I could get used to.

Do not get me wrong. I am very glad to put another holiday season behind me. I read one of my TimeHop posts from 8 years ago today, the first Christmas without my grandpa, and it brought a lump to my throat. If I had to pinpoint an exact moment when the holidays became a struggle that year would be it. I expected this year to be more challenging since we said goodbye to Mom in 2022. There was a moment when we dug out one of her dishes for the cranberry sauce where I know my angels were watching because Em and I both could have lost it and instead we were able to mention Mom and smile.

For those that don’t know me – surprises are my thing. Giving and receiving. This year’s gift exchange held surprises both physical and emotional. Listening to Em and Tim work together on Christmas Eve on my stocking was priceless. Opening gifts that a) I had no idea what they were and b) couldn’t have guessed if I tried was amazing. (You mom’s know what I’m talking about – we do the giving not the receiving at the holidays!)

My OCD brain gets me even when I’m not trying…didn’t mean to match his wrapping paper and PJ’s!

Tim reminded me again how very much he pays attention when I talk. Renovating the greenhouse so I can grow all the green things is on our January to do list but he got me an AeroGarden. “Something I knew you wanted but wouldn’t buy yourself.” Not gonna lie – it was set up before the cooking got started. Those moments of realizing God has brought someone into my life who loves me when I’m having a really bad day or listens when I talk are humbling.

I was asked a couple of times yesterday if I was glad I was home for Christmas. My initial gut response was still “no”. But having slept on it (or attempted to sleep on it since I’ve now been up since 3 am) I think the answer is yes. Yesterday was peaceful. And that, more than anything, was all I wanted for Christmas. To not be so lost in grief I felt incapable of breathing is perhaps the greatest gift of all.

Blessings y’all – A