I came across the following words that I wrote around this time last year and wanted to share them today:
Friday evening, I was cuddled up in bed with Ellie. She had a fever and was in the midst of crabbiness and wanting to be held and not wanting to be held. My exhaustion was pretty thick and I was holding on to patience by the tips of my fingers. Finally, she sighed and leaned against me. In that moment, I consciously took a deep breath and found the space between my inhalation and exhalation. The space where my body and mind could rest even if just for a second. In those seconds, a quiet voice inside me gently said, "You've got this." Within just a minute or two, she was back to grumpiness, but I felt my patience expand and I was able to move from a place of compassion and gentleness, which is what she most needed. What I would most want if I wasn't feeling well.
The seconds where I found the space to notice my breathing and recenter was like first aid to help me stay present for Ellie, for myself.
Today, this glimpse into a year ago reminded me to breathe deeply and come back to compassion for the now three year old who is trying on different ways to stall instead of going to bed. And it helped me to come back to compassion for myself as I navigate the different unexpected curves on my current path.
Finding compassion in that space between the inhalation and exhalation is such a beautiful practice to carry with you. I thought I would share it in case reading this story might be just the reminder you need today too.
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