I have many, many gifts this season – gifts of love, of friendship, of understanding. Gifts of kindness. Gifts I’ve gotten from friends, from strangers, from family. Gifts of hugs, of talk, of compassion. Of sharing, and of companionship, and of kindness.
I have other gifts, too; gifts that I’m giving myself this year.
The gift of self-awareness. The gift of being able to look deep inside, instead of looking outward to blame. The gift of being willing to work on myself instead of looking for someone else to fix me. The gift of knowing that I need time: time to grieve, time to heal, time to get my feet back under me.
The gift of knowing that denial isn’t a way out, or a way around. It’s only a way to suppress the problems and emotions, and I have the gift of knowing that if I do that, they only reemerge later.
I have the gift of knowing that the way out is the way through.
And, I have the gifts of hope, and faith, and trust.
Sometimes you can go home again. You can go home, and you can heal.
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