I Could Dance an Irish Jig Tonight.

I’m about to go bed, and I’m happy. It’s been one of those magical days when the stars and moons aligned, and my body actually knew what to do with the food I ate. Digestion is such a glorious thing when it works.

I ate a good dinner, and even had seconds. I still thought I could do more, so I had some almond butter and paleo crackers just to add a few more calories. I ate at least as much as my husband. When I was done, I felt like I had eaten, but nothing more. I wasn’t uncomfortable. I wasn’t in pain. I didn’t feel like I was being pulled to the ground by my stomach. I wasn’t short of breath. I didn’t feel like I couldn’t move.

These moments are few and far between. But the important thing is they happen. And that’s what I’ve been reflecting on tonight. My body IS capable of digesting properly. Not very often, but on occasion. I didn’t do anything different today than I do any other day, yet, today everything worked. This is the great mystery of my body. 

My recent setback has killed my confidence and dampened my spirits. But then a night like this comes along to remind me my body has what it takes. Why in the world it doesn’t work right most days is beyond me, but somebody somewhere will figure this out.

Until then, I need to keep the faith. Until then I need to sear this feeling into my brain because I’m going to need it the next time things don’t go well. Until then, I’m going to enjoy the simple pleasure of feeling well. 

Oh, what a night……..

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