I went to a hot yoga class, and I didn’t die.
I contemplated walking into that room all day. I debated. I doubted myself. I finally drove myself there. I remembered nearly passing out the last time I was in that room. I remembered all the negative remarks, the hurtful things once said by someone very close to me about physical strength being connected to mental strength, but I got on my yoga mat in a hot room with a bunch of other people. And it was great.
Full Body Stretch
I have never sweated so much in my life, and that’s the honest truth. It felt good to know the postures and the breathing after not having been in a public class in about five years. The room was hot, the instructor was challenging, and I wasn’t sure if I would survive. I only took a break once. I was beyond my limit, and I knew if I didn’t take it to child’s pose for the next sequence I wouldn’t be able to keep going. The important thing is that I got back up and tried some new things and pushed myself. I made it through the whole class, minus a few minutes of resting.
I didn’t learn that I’m not cut out for yoga. I didn’t learn that I’m too weak or that I need to lose weight. I learned that I can endure and conquer (and that I need a new yoga mat.) I kept thinking, You can handle it. You’ve got this. It’s ok. You can do it. And I did. For an hour and 15 minutes. No one was there to tell me that I need to work harder or that I wasn’t meeting expectations or that this was going to make me into a more desirable shape or size. I did it because I had the strength to do it, and when I didn’t, I rested. It was ok. We’re allowed to rest.
Shhh… God’s Talking.
During meditation, the best thing happened: I got to pray for the ladies in my small group. I let their faces come to mind, and I prayed for them each by name. It was a sweet time, and it was worth all the sweat.
In savasana, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and with the realization that I am so much stronger than I used to let myself believe. I used to let someone else determine my self worth. I know it would be best if I didn’t think about that person at all, but I’m still processing. And I’m not angry. I’m just letting the damage be healed from the inside out. I’m trusting that He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it.
Here’s to the Trains I Missed
I had never heard this song, but Lisa played “The Trains I Missed” during savasana. It’s not exactly my style, but the song made an impression.
Here’s to the trains I missed, the loves I lost
The bridges I’ve burned, the rivers I never crossed
Here’s to the call I didn’t hear, the signs I didn’t heed
The roads I couldn’t take, the map that I just wouldn’t read
It’s a big old world, but I found my way
From the hell and the hurt that led me straight to this
Here’s to the trains I missed
One precious tear fell, with a a smile on my face, as I was resting in that moment today at the end of class. I did it. I made it through, and I am so much stronger. No, I’m not still married. I don’t own a home. I don’t have kids. I didn’t get my PhD (yet). I’m not a mentor or a leader of anything. I’m not a remarkable human being by most standards. I missed those trains. (Some of them let me off on the side of the road without most of my luggage.) But I am here. Right now. I am so loved. I know that. That’s what “Jesus loves me” is all about. We are weak, but he is strong. For sure, Jesus loves me. I am present right here, right now in a place He provided, with a job He provided, with a roommate He provided and a small group He provided and a car He provided, etc. I think God wanted to remind me today that He is bigger and that he’s proud of me for not giving up on life, on Him, and on me. If it takes me getting disgustingly sweaty and fatigued for him to find more space in my heart and my mind, I will see y’all on the mat, my friends. He is not done with me.