Christmas from Another Planet

What defines you?  You know, that thing that you are or do or believe; that thing that makes you YOU.

For me, its cooking and baking.  I am the person who always has a warm kitchen full of delicious aromas and flavors just waiting to soothe your hurts, celebrate your victories or simply fill your empty spaces.  I'm the girl you can count on to provide a huge meal for dozens of people at a moment's notice.  I'm the lady who's always ready for those extra couple of guests.  It's just who I am.

Only it isn't anymore.

My entire identity has revolved around food for as long as I can remember.  My mother is an amazing cook, and most of  my favorite childhood memories involve some meal or dish or treat that my mother made for some specific or special occasion... the ham with waldorf salad, or the vanilla cream chocolate drops, or the saurkraut and sausage meatloaf.  We baked together and she taught me her tricks.  It was magical.

Then I began building my own home full of its own memories.  I learned new recipes and practiced the intricate timing of preparing a meal so that each item was ready at exactly the same time.  I taught myself to recognize which flavor combinations would be tasty, and which would clash terribly.  I experimented with spices and reveled in each delicious discovery.  And nothing brought me greater joy than sharing this fount of knowledge and skill with a house overflowing with people.

So now, as I prepare for Christmas, knowing that all of my tried-and-true holiday delicacies will ultimately put me in the hospital (I've already been twice since Thanksgiving), I find myself not only wondering what to do with my time but wondering who I am.  This "thing" that has defined me is now my enemy, and I just feel lost.

I hear the silent voices that remind me I am a daughter of the King, that Christmas is about Christ not food, that I am more than just a plate full of cookies or a box of homemade fudge.  I hear them...but I cannot make myself believe them just yet.  I do not know who I am without my stove, or hot cup of coffee or tea, or my fragrant home and warm kitchen.  Its like I've woken up in a parallel universe where everything looks exactly the same, but sugar, gluten and caffeine are poison.

I will adapt.  I will change.  I will grow.  But right now...today...I wonder who the imposter is that's living inside my skin.