It’s a weird time of year. My yoga teacher Jen talks about this fact every December. The short, dark days plead with us to slow down, to hibernate, to conserve energy and stay warm. The social calendar calls us to go out, live it up, and socialize more than usual. This push and pull season has gifted me with a cold.

I’m thankful to have a reason to think about taking a nap, even though I didn’t find time to take a nap this weekend. I still listened to my tired bones and found more time to do almost nothing. I still thought about boundaries and how my body would like me to say no more often to events and yes to just being inside my house with my sweet family.

I like it here, on the couch watching the world of KK, Annie, and Chris traipse across my sight path. I like that everyone in our family craves time to let their passions play. I spent almost two hours typing up KK’s autobiography for school yesterday, and what a pleasure that was, to see her writing blossom and to hear her voice in my head saying “This is what I remember about my almost 12 years on this planet.” I adored listening to Annie play with one of her oldest friends. I liked that Chris went out on the coldest of afternoons to work on his beloved VW Super Beetle. What a blessing to know my family wants to stay home inside our home, which feels like such a holy place to me.

It’s taken me a long time to arrive here, to listen to something deep inside of me that says, “Stay home, there is a lot of life being lived here.” I so often have thought that real events happened outside my front door. What action was I missing? Where should I be instead of at home? Are people having more fun somewhere else?

Maybe they are. But this pull, for me, to stay right here with my family only grows stronger as my girls get older. This cold that graces my body is a great reminder that home is where my heart is right now. The tree we decorated last night pulls us to our living room, to that dark space lit by more than a hundred twinkly white lights. Say no, stay home, rest, and see what comes your way. That’s what my inner voice says loudly, even if this voice has taken the form of a sneeze or two or three or four.