Thank you for this day.
Thank you for waking me up again.
Thank you for giving me strength
to make it through,
even when I’m tired, sick,
and all I want to do is rest.
Thank you for helping me to be
the most loving mom I can be to my kids,
for tending to their needs joyfully, patiently,
and with gratitude that I was blessed with children
(even when sometimes I wish I weren’t!).
Thank you for cleansing my heart
of envy when I see husbands
taking care of their wives
with love in their eyes.
Help me to embrace my loneliness,
so that if it is your will one day,
I might celebrate partnership again.
When I’ve been pushing and pushing and pushing,
bouncing around like a ping-pong ball,
At some point my body says
I’ve reached that point.
My body is saying
Stop. Slow Down. Pause. Rest.
And yet I keep going.
It’s catching up with me.
I feel exhausted.
I want to rest,
but the children need to eat breakfast
and get on the school bus.
I drag myself out of bed;
God be with me. Have mercy. God be with me.
The doomsday prophet in my head says
It will always be like this.
The child in my head says
This isn’t fair.
My body keeps repeating
Stop. Stop. Stop.
It’s getting louder.
And I’m wondering when I’ll get the hang
of single parenting, really.
Some other voice says
Just one day at a time, darling,
just one step at a time.
I think I’ll listen to that voice.
I said a final goodbye to the old house,
handed the keys over,
and closed that chapter.
I drove away feeling free, grateful.
Then it was time to teach.
My students were open and lovely,
willing to slow down, breathe,
and try their best.
Back home my kids were darling;
I’m just amazed at how naturally positive they are;
they are focused on the good,
they get excited about sweet, simple things.
We watched a movie and ate popcorn,
then I pumped up the tires of our bikes
and we road around the court.
Chicken soup for dinner,
then reading together.
Ah, it’s the sweet, simple things
that make life so blessed, so enjoyable.
I vow to be grateful for all of it.
This life is a miracle.
I hand over the keys to my old house.
This evening I brought my children,
7 and 9 years old,
over to the old house to say goodbye.
We lived there for almost five years,
and when you’re 7 and 9,
that’s a good portion of your life.
They had fun running through the empty house,
their whoops and hollers echoing off the bare walls.
I walked room to room, thanking the house.
I said goodbye to the experiences it held,
good and bad.
I said goodbye to the kitchen island,
the epicenter of my creative expression there,
where so much fabric was cut for sewing,
so much art was made,
many meals prepared,
many words exchanged.
So many feelings now.
Relief to let go.
The pain of still healing wounds,
the memory of the grief and loss,
and the love that was shared there too.
I can remember all of it.
We returned to our new home,
still piled high with boxes,
little paths running through them.
I made a big pot of chicken soup
and we sat in the kitchen together,
the kids goofing off,
giggling with their noodle mustaches,
droplets of broth flying…
I’m grateful for them.
Just when I thought my heart might break
from another surge of memory,
they remind me that
home is here
and life is now
and love is real and present
and there is nothing missing.
Giving my all
and keeping the faith,
waking up in thanks,
and praying for stamina,
working harder than ever
and singing praises for what I have,
day by day,
living this way,
smiling and choosing happiness
(no matter what)—
life is looking up.
And I see now
how ridiculous it was
to ask life to change for me,
for it to get easier,
for people to be more loving
more understanding and present—
I am the one who had to change.
When I changed on the inside,
when I decided to reclaim my power,
reignite my passion,
and revisit my values,
everything on the outside changed…
and I am grateful.
Fresh, clean kids are asleep
in their fresh, clean sheets…
And even though I’m crazy tired,
I’m kind of wired,
walking around in wonder
that this has finally happened.
Our own place.
Our own memories.
A new chapter,
untainted by the one
who almost broke me.
I lit a candle,
made a cup of tea
and am settling down cozily
to read and muse
and feel so much gratitude.
We moved! We moved! We moved!
And I am moved
by the moving, by the help received,
by the sheer quantity of stuff,
being forced to look at all of it,
make decisions—stay or go?
Intentionally setting up nooks of creativity,
creating a sewing studio in the basement—
this has been a DREAM…
And now, it’s coming true,
because I choose, I choose,
to live the dream,
to move and be moved
by this wonderful life
to trust, to love,
to jump, to open
Up late getting ready.
Big day. Big weekend.
Today I taught three yoga classes.
Tomorrow I’ll teach three classes,
then I’ll lead a five hour training.
I made eye pillows to give the participants,
as well as training manuals
so that they can take the information with them.
I made a kale and quinoa salad
for our working dinner tomorrow.
All in all, it will be a twelve hour day…
Sunday I’ll teach three more classes.
And somehow, somehow,
I am to find the time and stamina
to PACK MY HOUSE
BECAUSE IT’S TIME TO MOVE.
I decided it’s not time to freak out.
Freaking out is an old, outworn habit,
and it really serves no purpose.
Instead, I’m choosing presence.
I’m showing up inside each moment,
clear on what the moment is calling for,
and doing that.
When it’s time to teach, I’ll teach.
When it’s time to eat, I’ll eat.
When it’s time to pack, I’ll pack.
When it’s time to move, I’ll move.
And when it’s time to rest, I’ll rest.
I am so grateful to have been brought to this simple place,
where I no longer need to chastize myself
for what I didn’t do sooner
In this simple place,
I see what needs to be done,
and I do that.
There is so much peace in the present moment.