I am so tired. So really, really tired. That is a big reason why my writing has faltered over the past several months. My health has been failing. Failing. I pause over that word. It sounds so dreadful and dead-full. I'm not dead, and I won't be for a long, long time. I'm too stubborn to go ,I've too much work still to do, and God's not done with me yet.
But as I think of the word "failing," it works for me. I often fail. And I often get back up again. Sometimes it takes me a while to get back on my feet, and sometimes I'm quicker. But there should be no shame in failing - only in the refusal to try again.
So yes, my health was failing. My body was not functioning properly. There is no shame in that. I'm working on making better- and different - health choices, and am under the care of a few good health providers, so I'm getting better. Slowly, but surely, I am healing. But it all makes me so tired.
To my credit, nearly all the Christmas shopping is done. I just have to pick up the gifts for my man and we're there. I've started wrapping. The tree is up and has lights on. Maybe we'll even put some ornaments on one day. Maybe. The lights are up on the front of the house. I successfully navigated two Holiday parties without falling apart. We've gone to one Christmas concert (David's choir was absolutely angelic. I don't usually expect that from a junior high chorus, but they sang straight to my heart this year.), and we'll hit another one tonight (Eddie's beginning band concert. Should be fun.). My kids are well fed and happy for the most part. I finished the laundry. My house is passably clean. Everyone made it to school on time this morning.
And now, I shall go take a nap.