It’s a stormy afternoon, rain falling gently as I watch the old school version of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer and have soft ginger cookies.

I like old-fashioned Christmas things, moments and experiences that remind me of good memories and jolly times with my loves. I’ve pulled out my collection of Christmas movies, and have been watching them one by one, feeling warm and happy inside as I see beloved characters and story lines that never fail to cheer me.

Earlier I took a few of my Christmas decorations for a walk, setting them up in truly Australian settings instead of the pine trees and snowy fields of my Canadian childhood. It made me smile to see them perched jauntily next to peeling bark and lush green grass. It’s not the Christmas setting I grew up with, but it’s still special.

It’s been a quiet few weeks for me here as I took time to care for myself after some intense healing sessions.

When I started on this healing journey several years ago, nothing prepared me for the aftermath of healing. Those days and weeks and months when the raw wounds have been scrubbed clean and healed over, leaving gaping holes that need to be filled with new things, with good things.

I’ve felt like a garden plot after all the carrots have been pulled out. Quiet, peaceful, but barren.

I felt strangely still. A bit fidgety. Not quite sure what to do with myself now that the big battles were over, and the time of rebuilding had arrived. When you’ve been fighting for so long, regular life does not unfurl naturally.

So, I’ve given myself time. As much time as I need to figure out what to put in those gaps that have been occupied by pain and grief and loss.

I’m waiting still. And that’s OK. I don’t want to rebuild with just any old hodgepodge of stuff. I want to deepen my roots and feed my soul with nourishing things so I can grow strong and resilient.

I haven’t been able to put things into words or clear plans of action, so I’ve just been preparing for words and actions.

I’ve been clearing spaces around the farm where, when I’m ready, I can create and make and build again.

I cleared out the granny flat and made it into a cozy place where I can do my writing and editing and reading and artwork, and also where guests can have a comfy cave to hide away in when they come to visit.

We started a man cave veranda for Bear where he can do all his painting and leather work and chain maille and store his swords and other medieval bits and pieces.

I made three work stations in the breezeway that will be perfect for our wine-making, preserving, and butchering projects.

I’m not sure what I’ll be doing next, but it feels good to know that when I do know, the spaces I need will be ready for me.

I’m so thankful for this time of quietness and rest and hope too. I don’t know what the future holds for me, but I’m excited to see it unfold in good time.

Now it’s time to heat up carrot ginger soup for dinner, and join Rudolph in his adventure at the North Pole. xo