Setting My Pace for the Holiday Race

 I woke (almost like normal) on Thanksgiving Day, drank coffee, showered, fixed my hair, took a great selfie with Don, and then loaded into the van with necessary ingredients for the day. As I sat on the beige co-pilot seat, however, my stomach swirled and fatigue weighed heavy. And right before we left, I realized I couldn't handle three stops in twelve hours. 

So we devised a new plan. Nathan went on his way without us, while I put my PJ's back on and crawled under my warm down comforter. A two hour nap, a bowl of chicken soup, and the latest episode of NCIS  helped me navigate the evening hours. But ever since I've been in full on recovery mode. Why? I guess I've done too much. It's called a mito crash.

It's funny how I can think I'm OK, that I've got this energy thing under control, and then hit a wall that leaves me no choice but to crawl back into bed. Or rather, limp back into bed because my right leg has become so weak.

I was actually relieved to spend turkey day at home, with Don, in the quiet sanctity of the holiday hush.  While we visited with family in the evening, I spent the next few days at home, napping and hanging ornaments on my tree. Today I woke with Sammy's cough and cold which only underscores my need for rest.

But I know how far I've come because I'm really OK with my slower pace. There are twinges of sadness, no doubt. But pulling away from the frenzy instead of pressing into the madness forces me to focus on what matters.

My parent's church choir director hired Nathan and me to help with their upcoming Christmas concert. I'll accompany the choir while Nathan sings with the tenor section. As we rehearsed last Tuesday night, a moment flashed where I relished the feel of the keys as they passed underneath my fingers; each note played, a reminder of opportunity stretched outside recent limits. My right leg may be weak from pedaling the piano but I'm making extra money doing something I love, with family. 

Living quiet till the concert is a fair tradeoff.

 A few weeks later, Nathan will graduate from college.  When we dropped him off his freshman year, I wondered if I'd be able to walk by the time he graduated, my legs were so wobbly.  However, if I anticipate our Savior's birth with quiet nights at home, lots of amazon shopping with my feet stretched out in front of me, I might be able to walk through the stadium - even without a cane. 

The day after his graduation, I'll gather with my piano and voice students and perform for the residents of Winwood Retirement Center. They may not hear very well and we might not hit every note correctly, but sitting together, sharing music... well... "Next to the Word of God, the noble art of music is the greatest treasure in the world." (Martin Luther)
 

If I focus on what I can't do, pressure and disappointment build. But if I relish each key as it runs beneath my fingers, I realize the unique snowflake difference that is me, right here and now, the way God designed my frame. 

I'll need more rest to make that difference. But even in December, rest is OK. And if I hold fast to a slower pace, I might even mean these words when I sing them on Christmas Eve: "Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright..." (Mohr)

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