If I weren't posting daily, I'd skip writing this today, and I'd come back after the words had been simmering on low for a spell. But it's the last day of NaBloPoMo and so you get me in the middle of a migraine.
It's not the recipe for writing well.
I should have known it was coming this morning, carrying over from the night before, when simple Christmas carols at church did me in. My left eye kept discreetly crying quiet tears that I could not rein in. Even my daughter teased me; I didn't know her class had crept up on the balcony, with the adults during the Advent season. I love that she heard about the wells being drilled in Liberia. I love that she heard it from more than my mouth. But as we left she did a perfect imitation of my tear blotting, on the left side only, and I had to laugh. My girl had me pegged.
(I'll try to fill you in on Living Water International this week - the group my church has partnered with - and the work we are entering into with the city of Portland for high school drop-outs, as I get to it this week. But I'm in bad shape right now.)
So I opted for a nap this afternoon or at least to rest a bit (still can't lie/lay down) while my kids kept asking if I was ready to decorate our tree. How about now? Um, now?
I finally gave up.
I'm up. My head hurts and my heart hurts but in a good way. The way that reminds me how rich and sweet my life is; how fortunate I am.
And I guess that's how we'll sum up this month of posts: Grateful and teary and little worn out but ready for good things to come.
I'm waiting, arms open wide.