The best preparation for your feast (it’s your heart)

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I’m fixin’ to be Hosting Girl. Tomorrow, an influx of relatives is happening here on The Three.

When I was thinking about it the other day, I felt that old temptation–anxiety. Over this and that and when and how and even societal expectations.

Shoot fire! I think I’ve worshiped at that golden altar long enough, so here’s the deal. I’m opting out. I am not cleaning baseboards. I am not cleaning walls. I am not tearing this place down to the studs and rebuilding it.

I’m not.

I’m not gonna have two different kinds of salad. A nice green one is plenty.

I’m not gonna make the pie. I’m allowing the resident expert, aka Aunt Iola, to contribute those. (Praises be, and pass the seconds!)

I’m not gonna do the vegetable this time. My virtuous SIL’s got that covered.

I’m not gonna be a raving lunatic that’s fit to be tied, a terror to live with, runnin’ on Xanax. No way.

Instead of worrying about my spread, I’m taking care of my soul. I sat down, quiet, in my jammies, today for two full mugs with God and the angels and the Shepherd and the Comforter.

Instead of worrying about my house, I’m tending my heart. Being still is the best, truest way I can hear Him.

Instead of losing sleep over my spread, I choose contentment of spirit, prioritizing peace over what’s on the plates.

What I’m really wanting is for our guests to feel Peace, to feel our love, to leave with more than full tummies…

With full hearts.

I just thought maybe one of y’all was needin’ some permission to land here as well. If so, this is me, givin’ it.

Happy Thanksgiving!