Six–In six days Snowman will come home for Christmas vacation. I am excited to see him, but frantically working on a project that I cannot describe here and afraid to estimate the actual hours it will take versus available waking hours.
Ten–In ten days I drive to Non-Contiguous New England State to retrieve #1 Son for his last Christmas break in college ever. (Slight fainting. Rallying.) The project for him? Not yet begun. Estimated hours, etc., as above.
Thirteen–A busy Sunday. Worship in the morning, big family evening with singing, recitations, the Out-laws, etc. Potential emotional minefield. Trying to prepare.
Fourteen–Christmas Eve. Need I say more? Organizing home and worship at a distance of 35 miles feels like a lot. A lot.
Fifteen–Christmas. Even though my children are older, it troubles me to consider how little I have actually done to prepare for the holiday thus far. I hope it’s not too late to shop online.
Seventeen–The day I leave for Mississippi. I am motivated to leave with a sermon in hand, to maximize time spent with my dear hostess, but you can see what lies between this day and that one.
In this year of alternative (which is to say non-food) coping techniques, I am feeling the pinch and the stretch and the overwhelm in a different way.
I am feeling them, instead of numbing them.
It’s weird. I hope I’ll succeed at it, and I hope I’ll forgive myself if I do not.