Category Archives: life

April 15, 2013 · 9:54 AM

Ten Steps When You’re Worried

I was going through some old stuff this weekend, and found a bunch of jotted down notes about dealing with worry. I don’t know where they originally came from… a sermon? A book? A fellow homeschooler? (If you recognize it, let me know, as I’d love to give credit!) As is always the case when God or the universe or whoever you believe puts these things in our paths, the timing was uncanny and I thought they should be shared.

1. Write down exactly what you’re worried about, and then flush it or burn it. Let it go.

2. Talk to the right people about it. Talk to the people who you trust, people who can help you come up with solutions.

3. OR, stop talking about it altogether. Don’t allow yourself to focus on your worry.

4. Schedule time to worry. Write your worries down, tell yourself that you’ll put those worries “on hold” for six months, and let them go. Chances are, when you do come back to them in six months, they will no longer be an issue.

5. Make a list of things that are going well.

6. Reformulate or rephrase your worries. You might not actually be worried about what you think you’re worried about.

7. Be solution-oriented. Ask yourself, “What concrete thing can I do about this right now?”

8. Break the cycle with different and new behavior.

9. Think about what “success” means for you and/or your family. Focus more on happiness: relationships, engagement, meaning, and personal accomplishment.

10. Finally, take care of yourself. Get enough sleep. Exercise. Eat healthfully. Spend time with friends and family. Do things you love to do. Taking steps to care for yourself will automatically raise your happiness equilibrium.

The more you try to to worry, the harder it is. Instead, take baby steps to be happier.

2 Comments

Filed under life, mental health

March 19, 2013 · 10:08 AM

Friends, The Internet, and Finding My Soul Sisters

The first person I ever knew who met someone on the internet was my sister. It was the early 90’s, back when the internet was all new and scary, and actually meeting someone from the internet was akin to making yourself a date with an ax murderer, or at the very least, a weirdo.

So my sister was living with us at the time, and she was out super late one night. By the time we’d started to get worried, she was home, telling us about the coolest guy she’d ever met. They’d first started talking in an AOL chat room, and decided that they needed to meet in person. She hadn’t told us where she was going because she didn’t want us to 1) talk her out of it, or 2) warn her that he’d probably be, well, an ax murderer or a weirdo.

It could have ended badly. But, thankfully, he was not an ax murderer. Or a weirdo (although he did eventually become my brother-in-law, which is almost the same thing.)

Of course, since then I’ve known of countless people who’ve met their spouses, significant others, friends, even birth parents on the internet. These days, it’s downright commonplace. But back then? Back when my love affair with the internet first began? The idea that the internet, this veritable pool of knowledge and resources and information, could also be such a source of connection = Mind. Blown.

And it would turn out, especially as I was drawn to unschooling and gentle parenting and eventually to a whole variety of “hippie” ways, that the internet would be not just useful for making connections with other like-minded moms, but invaluable. It made me realize I wasn’t alone. For the first time, I would find people who truly got it. People who understood. People who didn’t like me despite my “weirdness” but because of it. Yes, some of the best friends that I’ve ever made have matriculated from this same online tribe.

Last week, I got to spend five days with one such friend, when Jess visited from Michigan. In many ways, we didn’t really do anything out of the ordinary. We never made it to Sedona. We didn’t step foot in the desert. The only mountains I showed her were those we passed on the highway (and considering we drove around the entire east valley, we were on the highway a LOT)

But we also laughed a lot.

We chatted a lot.

We ate good food, and drank good drinks, and went to Jamba Juice at least 3 times.

And there’s just something… comforting… about being with a person who GETS YOU.

Someone who doesn’t think your dreadlocks are weird because she got hers six months before you did.

Someone who doesn’t question why you’d want a fourth tattoo, because she’s right beside you getting her second, and faithfully handing you lollipops for the entire grueling 3 hours.

Someone who doesn’t think it’s at all unusual that you love God, but that you haven’t been to church regularly in more years than you can count.

Someone who you can be completely honest with, not just with certain parts of yourself, but with all the parts.

Someone who treats your non-stop, energetic, firecracker of a daughter (and all of your boys) as well as she treats her own kids.

Something special indeed.

So while I have moments (and days and months) of pretty much loathing all things internet and social media – or at the very least, some of the people who know how to use them – as long as they keep bringing these people into my life, I will forever be indebted.

5 Comments

Filed under friends, life, visitors

February 13, 2013 · 10:07 AM

Talking To Grownups

Last night I pretended I was in my 20’s, and stayed out drinking and gallivanting until 1 in the morning.

When I say “drinking”, I mean having two cups of tea and about a million little cookies; and when I say “gallivanting”, I mean hanging out and gabbing in the kitchen for four hours after yoga ended. And, really, I was doing more observing and listening than talking, but still… I was out till 1 AM, talking to other grownups.

It was one of those times when you say your goodbyes, gather your stuff, move a few steps closer to the door… then set your stuff down again, and stay for another hour because someone started another funny story that snowballs into six more.

It was very unlike me.

My first inclination – especially when I’ve been busy or stressed, or alive – is to hole up and hibernate. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, do not engage with anyone who didn’t come from my loins or sleep in my bed. Yesterday I saw a comic on Deviant Art that likened living as an introvert to going through life in a hamster ball. Brilliant.

But it occurred to me at some point last night that I needed to be right where I was, talking to who I was talking to. As easy as it is for me to hole up sometimes (and it is so, so easy), we weren’t meant to live that way. We were meant to be part of a community. We were meant to connect with others.

I even wonder sometimes if that’s why I was called to teach yoga… so I’d be forced (but in a positive way) to reach out. To inspire, and to be inspired, by others. To touch, and to be touched, by others.

I talk so much about the importance of connecting with your kids, and it should go without saying that it’s important to connect with your spouse. But lately I’ve been stretched to realize and appreciate the importance of connecting with other adults as well. To share in struggles, and disappointments, and triumphs, and victories. To have another person, or ten other people, who are just there… offering a hug, or an ear, or a challenging perspective.

It’s pretty much what life’s about.

So to those who I’ve let in my little hamster ball of introversion, I thank you. I appreciate you more than you know.

I’ll never stop needing my long periods of hibernation (and that’s okay) but it turns out that occasionally connecting with others isn’t so bad either. Especially when there’s tea and cookies.

3 Comments

Filed under about me, friends, life

February 11, 2013 · 10:44 AM

That Which Makes Me Very Grumpy

I blame Flylady. Well, Flylady and my good friend Jess.

If you’re not familiar with Flylady, it’s basically a housekeeping system that teaches you to get in the habit of doing a morning and evening routine every day (dishes, laundry, swooping the bathroom, etc), along with one bigger chore, with the goal of getting and keeping your house running smoothly. It’s the exact opposite of anything I’d naturally be drawn too… but it’s actually quite perfect for people like me: people who’ve admitted to themselves that they function a lot better in less chaos, but who tend to make a mess everywhere they go.

Anyway, on Friday my job was to mop the floors. Actually, it was technically just to mop the kitchen floor. But if I had out a wet mop all ready to go, why stop at the kitchen? Why indeed. So I get my mop ready, fill the sink with water, and get started on the kitchen (which, if I’m being honest, was WAY overdue for a mop). That’s when all four kids – who’d been happily involved in their own projects up until that very moment – suddenly desperately needed me, in four different directions. It turns out that mopping is sort of like going to the bathroom in that regard.

I put out their fires, with less patience than I would have liked, and went back to mopping. I was grumbling for no reason before I even left the kitchen. There were spots everywhere, I kept having to stop to put something else away, and there was another *&%$ fruit sticker stuck to the floor in front of the fridge. If I could get some help once in awhile… grumble grumble grumble.

By the time I’d made it out through the pantry into the other room, I lost it. I was tripping over Tegan’s latest 27 costume changes all over the floor. I needed to put in another load of laundry. Someone had to clean the mice cage. Something had clearly been spilled and only halfway wiped up, and there was another something that I can only guess was once gum or Silly Putty that had hardened into a black, concrete mound of glue under Spencer’s desk.

Before I knew what had happened, I’d had a totally unwarranted Jekyll and Hyde/Bruce Banner and the Incredible Hulk transformation. I was snapping at everyone, I was flinging stuff around, and I nearly burst into tears when I found one of my favorite pens without its cap. Spencer was – rightfully – looking at me like I’d gone crazy, and Paxton was still staring straight ahead at his computer screen… his only defense sitting as absolutely still as possible.

And that’s when I saw my raving lunatic self, took a (rather mortified) big breath, apologized to the kids, and said to myself, “What is wrong with you??”

Then I remembered.

The day before, I’d just begun a juice fast.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

I like to do a good cleanse/fast a few times a year. It’s really important to detox, especially if you’ve been eating a lot of sugar or processed foods (or, in my case, a ton of NSAIDS) Plus, it’s February, and the new year, and I was still carrying 5 holiday pounds. I knew from experience that a week or two of juicing would do wonders. So when my friend Jess said, “Hey, want to do a juicing blitz with me??” I said “Sure, sign me up!”

Now if you’ve ever done any type of cleanse, you know that the first few days are unpleasant: I get headaches and a host of other physical detox symptoms. I crave things. I feel foggy. I sometimes get dizzy.

All child’s play compared to just how GRUMPY it makes me.

By day four or five, I feel fantastic. Lighter, mentally clearer, more energetic, ready to take on the world. But day two? I’m a beast. And I always forget that part. So while Jess was writing a lovely blog post about the juicing and all its benefits, I couldn’t write anything, largely because I was too focused on wanting to inflict major bodily harm on any and all inanimate object that got in my way.

So, my advice to you, should you ever choose to do a juicing fast (and you really should; It’s so good for you. And I’m on day 5 now, so I’m very much in the zone of “WOOOO HOOOO, juicing ROCKS!!”): Go easy on yourself and the people around you. Treat yourself gently, and with patience, and with grace.

And for the love of all that is good and holy, don’t even think about mopping.

11 Comments

Filed under about me, food, learning, life, natural health, nutrition, rant

February 7, 2013 · 11:13 AM

Thankfulness … even in chaos

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We’ve been doing a lot of running around this week. After being home-bound by sickness for way too many days (despite my best efforts, the plague that had stricken the kids eventually caught me as well), the busy-ness was a sort of reprieve, except….

Lots of running around is not my favorite thing.

I mean, I adore watching the kids do things they love. I do. I love seeing them so happy in gymnastics class, and at karate, and at Scouts. I love seeing them light up with interest at the park, or the zoo, or the aquarium. I love having new adventures, and new experiences, and new interactions. But, well, I’m an introvert and a homebody, both of which seemed to have intensified lately. Too much craziness and I’m off-course and stressed out… desiring nothing more than to have a quiet day at home with my kids and coffee and pens and laptop and sticky notes.

A few weeks ago, we closed on a refinance of our house. It was a hugely positive move for us financially, and as one of the conditions of the new loan, we needed to commit to staying here for at least five more years. And I don’t know, between that and the new year and just where I am in life right now, I’ve sort of been… nesting. Reclaiming my house, and by extension reclaiming a bit of my life.

I’ve also been working hard on practicing my eucharisteo – grace and thankfulness, at all times. Inspired by the book, One Thousand Gifts, I finally started a list to remind me.

5. The hot water on my skin when I rinse the dishes

6. The sound of coffee brewing

7. Fuzzy slipper socks

The more days that pass, the easier it comes:

40. Shiny kitchen counters

41. Tegan’s curls peeking out from under the covers.

42. Colorful yarn

It occurred to me yesterday that it’s a practice that I’m better at when I’m home, in my element, and that that needn’t be the case. Shouldn’t the fact that I’m running around, driving from here to there, getting too wrapped up in my head… in to-do lists and deadlines and the time on the clock… shouldn’t that be MORE of a reason to be mindful, and present, and focused on the blessings of the moment?

aquariumtunnel

So when we got home from a wonderfully fun but long day out at the aquarium and the mall, I went straight to my notebook, and out they tumbled:

50. Singing at the top of our lungs in the car

51. Random compliments

52. The kindness of strangers

53. Soft pretzels smothered in butter and cinnamon sugar

Goodness is out there. It’s always out there. Even on the crazy days. I just have to open my eyes and see it.

2 Comments

Filed under about me, being happy with what is, gratitude, life

January 28, 2013 · 9:46 AM

Unschooling, Today

28 days into the new year.

Three of the four kids have been sick (Paxton is still steadfastly drinking his Vitamin C and so far successfully willing himself not to get it). We’ve had car repairs and front door repairs and dryer repairs. Gymnastics started up again. So did karate. And Cub Scouts.

We decided we needed to repaint almost our whole house, starting with the living room and kitchen:

And through it all, there’s been a lovely rhythm, the kind that reminds me why we unschool.

Spencer has been making good use of the tools he got for Christmas, spending much of his days out in the garage. When he’s not taking apart, putting together, or otherwise fixing his lawn mowers and weed wackers, he’s on the internet… soaking up more information, watching instructional videos, and trouble-shooting.

Paxton has been working hard teaching himself computer programming. He has a giant book on Python (which I know nothing about, except that it’s a computer “language”) that he uses as a reference, and he also watches tutorials and videos on YouTube. He’s able to program his own simple games from scratch now, and he sets himself a new goal every day.

Everett has been all about science and magic tricks lately. The science is cool and everything, but I love watching how the magic makes him come alive. He’s getting really, really good at the slight-of-hand stuff, as well as things like forcing cards (says his unbiased mom) and I’m so enjoying getting to watch him perform and improve.

And Tegan…. honestly, is there anyone busier than a 4 year old? With Tegan, I just need to show up, and keep up. Whether it’s drawing, or singing, or playing board games, or Barbies, or ponies, or dress-up, or acting out her most recent favorite scene from one of her TV shows… she keeps me on my toes, and in the present moment.

And it’s a beautiful place to be.

8 Comments

Filed under kids, life, unschooling, update

January 15, 2013 · 1:09 PM

Coloring Outside the Lines

I’m on the cusp of …. something. That feeling that you get when you’re at the very top of the hill of the roller coaster? That agonizing anticipation when you know the big drop is coming but you don’t know when…. that split second before you descend, when your body is torn between squealing with exhilaration and throwing up? Lately I’ve felt that way all the time. I’ve been on the brink of tears (sometimes happy, sometimes sad) ever since the last little bit of Christmas was packed away. I’ve been jumpy. Distracted. And when I say distracted: My normal attention span is that of a overtired toddler. Eating an ice cream cone. At Disneyland. On the fourth of July. So when I say I’m distracted, I’m reeaalllly distracted.

I’ve been preoccupied with a health scare that still could very well turn out to be nothing. I’ve been scratching my head over a disturbingly rapid succession of things failing on us… first Mike’s truck – twice – then the dropped juicer, then the clothes dryer. I almost wince when I so much as plug in the coffee maker. My blog got hacked (AGAIN), this time so badly that my host actually disabled it until I went in and fixed all the damaged files. I ended up having to completely start it from scratch.

I need to call a surgeon to make an appointment for a consultation for Spencer’s shoulder.
I need to call my surgeon to reschedule my next follow-up.
I need to email my physical therapist a copy of the prescription from my doctor because I forgot to bring it to my last session.
I need to cancel Directv before we get charged for another month.
I need to bring the clothes in from the line.
I need to clean the bathroom.
I need to get the kids to gymnastics.

I need. To. Breathe.

My birthday was last week. Have I mentioned that? Somewhere in the middle of the dislocated shoulders and doctor’s appointments and broken down cars, I turned 39. I actually had a really lovely and uneventful day (ie: nothing broke). I made myself some out-of-this-world chocolate stout cupcakes with whiskey ganache filling, and Baileys cream cheese frosting, and Mike made me a huge and perfect Cobb salad for dinner, my current I-could-eat-it-every-day-and-never-get-sick-of-it favorite food. And my sister, because she possesses that sixth-sister-sense that lets her know exactly what I need even before I know it myself, came over with a gift the same day the dryer died:

I’ve been a fan of journaling since forever. But my journals have always been… neat. Orderly, with perfect penmanship, written with the perfect pen. This journal is like the anti-Jen-journal journal, with instructions to break the spine, step on it, drag it, cut it, rip it, splatter it, doodle on it, poke holes through it, shower with it. It has pages for when you’re angry, pages for when you’re happy, pages for when you’re feeling creative.

Are you freaking kidding me?? Best. Gift. Ever.

I suppose there’s a time for neat and orderly. But – and my apologies to my husband who is neat and orderly all the time – this aint it. For reasons that aren’t yet clear to me, I’m getting stretched right now. And pushed, and pulled, and dragged, and dirty. I’m so far out of my comfort zone that I don’t even see it anymore. And on the days that are hard or scary or uncomfortable I’ll just remind myself that outside that comfort zone… in the land where it’s okay to spill and break book spines and write illegibly… that’s where all the magic happens.

1 Comment

Filed under about me, birthdays, breathing, life

January 4, 2013 · 9:39 AM

Teganisms

Tegan, 4 years and 10.5 months at the time of this writing (because I’m in denial about my last baby turning 5 soon) is awesome – says her unbiased mom. She’s smart and spunky and beautiful. But what really makes her awesome is the stuff that comes out of her mouth. Just a tiny sample of some of my favorites of late:

“Something extreme is going on here…..”

To the Chipmunks movie promo that told her to “shake her tail”: “But I don’t have a tail! I just have a cute little bottom!”

When I messed up one of her fingernails, during our weekly manicure: “It’s okay. It was an accident. It’s not your fault you’re not as smart as daddy.”

“I tooted twice last night in bed. Both on Daddy.”

“Your butt cheeks are bigger than mine, Mommy.”

“I’m so good at dancing, it’ll make your heart fall out of your brain.”

T, over a year after she potty-trained: “Mommy, can you buy me some Huggies?” Me: “What for?” T: “So I can have drier, happier mornings!”

After walking into the room with a huge scowl on her face: Me: “What’s the matter?” T: “What do you think??” Me: “I don’t know. That’s why I asked.” T, with a dramatic sigh: “Well…. I woke up this morning, and my hair was flat.”

And finally, just last night: “Mommy, how old will you be when I’m nine? About a hundred and sixty?”

I so love this child.

1 Comment

Filed under humor, life, Tegan

January 3, 2013 · 8:30 AM

Do-Overs

I had a bad day yesterday.

(Am I the only one who instantly hears the entire chorus to the Daniel Powter song whenever those word are uttered?)

It was one of those days when it wasn’t one really big thing went wrong, but a myriad of little things that happened in such a succession that they felt big.

The bathroom scale showed my highest all-time non-pregnant weight. I got an ugly, ugly comment on my blog. I broke my juicer when my shoulder gave out as I was putting it on the counter. Right after the juicer incident, Tegan was trying to help me pack away Christmas, and when I was out of the room took the two nutcrackers off the mantel. When I came back in, she was playing with the nutcrackers, and said she’d taken them down but that it “didn’t go so well.” Translation: something had gotten broken.

Little things.

I’m the first one to tell you that a number on a scale is NOT something you should be stressing out about. And the comment? It’s part of blogging. I’m supposed to shake it off. The ruined juicer, while not exactly helpful to our debt repayment efforts, is still just a “thing.” It can be replaced eventually. As for Tegan and the mantel: She’d accidentally knocked down about 5 of my elephants, but only two were broken. They happened to be my two favorites… the little stone one that Mike had bought me about 19 years ago, the one that started my collection; and a tiny clear glass one that I’d picked up in Bermuda. The first could be fixed with some crazy glue… but the latter was smashed beyond repair. They had more sentimental value than monetary value, but still… just things. And, interestingly, I’m supposed to be letting go of the importance of things. Here we go.

Once I’d gotten in that rut of, “I’m having a bad day” though, I couldn’t get out of it. I tried wine. I tried chocolate. I tried a tiny bit of yoga. I tried hanging out with the girl while she took a bath (which, while it didn’t exactly help, at least distracted me with happy and very important conversation about things like Adele, mermaids, and body hair)

I finally gave up, kissed everyone good night, and went to bed at 8:47, knowing that tomorrow would be another new day. Another fresh start, another chance for a do-over.

And here’s today. The scale still says the same number, but it’s okay. I’m healing. I’m working hard. Soon I’ll be able to be more physically active again.

There are no meanies on my blog.

I’m the only one up, and the house is so silent, I can hear the hum of the ceiling fan above me.

The dog is peacefully sleeping on her flattened little bed on the floor by my feet.

The sun is coming through the stained glass window on the front door, and making pretty patterns of rainbows on the french doors behind the kitchen table.

There’s a little denim mini skirt in the middle of the floor, and it makes me smile: it means a happy, healthy, energetic 4 year old girl lives here.

I have a new bag of freshly roasted coffee beans, just waiting to be ground and made into my morning cup of coffee.

Life is good.

4 Comments

Filed under life, perspective

January 2, 2013 · 7:11 AM

I Am Not a Christian

We have a ball python named Waldo. We named him Waldo for the late great Ralph Waldo Emerson (and also because people seemed to find the idea of being able to lament, “Where’s Waldo??” in the event of an escape side-splittingly funny.) He’s a wonderful pet. He’s playful and friendly, and loves to slither around our laps on the couch. It’s fun to watch him eat too… striking out to catch the – already dead – mouse we dangle from the tweezers, squeezing it until it’s good and dead, and then ever so slowly and deliberately swallowing it whole.

One of the coolest things about snakes though is their ability to shed their skin. I’m fascinated by this. They outgrow their old skin, it turns white and brittle and loose, and here is this new skin: beautiful, bright, and vibrant, ready to take its place. Ideally, the old skin comes off in one long complete piece… so intact that you can clearly see where the eyes once resided. Sometimes though, they have a bad, or an incomplete shed. The skin comes off in stages and pieces. When that happens, the retained skin can cause problems for the snake, so it’s important to have rough items like branches, bark, and rock in the cage so that the snake can rub against them to help snag and remove the remaining skin. That’s exactly what happened the last time Waldo shed. His cage was filled with pieces of skin of varying length, and we wondered if we’d have to do something to help. But he worked it out: he used the rough bark of his hiding log, and eventually it was all gone. He was fresh and new and shiny again.

I am a snake.

For the past several years, I’ve been on a journey to slowly shed my outgrown skin in many many facets of my life, but particularly in my walk as a Christian. For so many (So. Many.) years I was bound by rules and regulations and legalities, and as I grew and changed and evolved… it just didn’t fit anymore. I started to crave freedom and grace and freedom again, and I just wasn’t finding them in my old skin.

I am thankful, honestly thankful, for the painful church experiences of my past that started the process, that tore off that first big piece, the one that gave me the glimpse of the beauty that lay beneath. Just the taste, just the possibility of the freedom that was to come gave me hope. And those final bits of skin? The stubborn ones? Well those eventually came off too, thanks to the people I’ve encountered along the way; the ones who served as those rough logs, sloughing off the old meaning of the word, “Christian”, and replacing it with something new. Those people are the ones who helped me see who I am, who I’m not, and who I so desperately want to be.

If a Christian is someone who uses a Bible not as a source of strength or knowledge or information, but as a weapon, something from which to cherry-pick scriptures to clobber others, to prove a point, and to win an argument…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who thinks he can say with any authority who is and who is not going to go to heaven; who arrogantly thinks he knows the status of someone else’s walk with God, let alone his salvation…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who disparages others just because they happen to be a Democrat or a liberal or someone who voted “the wrong way” in the last election…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who doesn’t let another Christian into their group or club or school because they’re the wrong kind of Christian, or because their beliefs or interpretations of God and the Bible may differ from their own…

I am not a Christian.

If a Christian is someone who stands as judge and jury of someone else’s lifestyle; someone who finds it appropriate to go onto someone else’s Facebook page and just tell her, point-blank: “You are not a true Christian if you XYZ”…

I am not a Christian.

And riiiiiiiiip, there it goes, the very last little thready bits of skin. Except it doesn’t hurt. It feels good. It feels freeing.

That skin didn’t fit. And it hadn’t fit for so long.

I have no anger towards those people either. No bitterness. Only gratitude. And I’ll fully admit that that wasn’t always the case. I have one faithful friend who can attest to the number of, “Have I mentioned lately how much Christians annoy me?” texts I’ve sent her over the past year. It’s only now that I can see them for what they were… just people on their own journey, people who may or may not have skin to shed of their own. How they’re living out their own personal walk is none of my business, and likewise:

No one else but me gets to decide my path for ME.

I’m free.

Does that freedom then mean that I just live my life all willy-nilly, devil-may-care, any old way, and if God doesn’t like it that’s just too damn bad? Of course not. On the contrary, as someone who does truly love God, I am always learning, always growing, always examining, always questioning. Christianity is actually a lot like yoga (which, ironically, is another area that’s garnered me the, “You can’t be a true Christian if you do that!” comments) in that you never know everything there is to know. You’re never finished learning. You’re never finished getting better. By all means, even though I’m a teacher I’m still relatively new to yoga. And even though I’ve been a Christian my whole life, I’m still very new to the idea of grace. Of real faith. Of freedom. For the first time in, well… ever… I can’t wait to learn more.

So am I a Christian? The only words that come are: “It just doesn’t matter.” I am me. I love God. And I’m okay with that answer.

I’m pretty sure God’s okay with it too.

33 Comments

Filed under about me, church, faith, freedom, judgement, learning, life

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