Choose to Trust

To my future self, or our children, or our grandchildren who will at some point in life experience change through moving:

I get it.

When I hear the word "move" and think of the changes surrounding it, my initial reaction is a throat-closing-off-heart-pounding-out-of-my-chest sensation. Even after moving to four different states in an eight year time period. Or wait. Maybe it's because of the four moves to four states in eight years those feelings come to mind.

While the reasons for moves are as different as the brush strokes on a canvas, remember the purpose of your path. Keep your perspective broad and remember we are here on earth to learn and grow. If the opportunity has arrived for you to learn and grow through moving, embrace it. Hold tight to it.

Choose to trust.

You might be moving five minutes from where you currently live. You may be moving to a place you've never been to, where you don't know anyone and where you can't even figure out which way is North.

Choose to trust. North is always constant. You'll find it again.

And remember, there is good everywhere if you choose to find it. If you choose to discover it. If you choose to proactively allow yourself to embrace it.

You might feel worried or guilty or fearful that changing through moving will bring added stress/worry/discomfort to your children. It probably will. Maybe they will feel anxious or depressed. They might lose confidence in themselves. But this is nothing to feel guilty, worried or fearful about. Trust the process. Let them wobble in unsure ground and give them space to dig deeper into their roots. To learn their true identity isn't made by friends or accomplishments but in knowing that God, their Father, loves them - no matter what, and has not forgotten them. Let them soak in the satisfaction of truly understanding resilience. Of working through the struggle while climbing the mountain. Let them climb.

You might have moments where you question why. Or you look back and remember how comfortable life was. You may even run scenarios of trying to rewind or undo the change. Give yourself permission to have a bad day, to talk out those thoughts, and to validate yourself back into truth. Back into your purpose. Back into trust. Sometimes you'll be able to do this on your own. And sometimes you'll need the help of someone who can lift you where you stand. It may be a spouse, a parent, a friend who has moved and understands the journey. It may be a professional - a person trained with the tools to help reframe mental thoughts back into truth. Trust that while the past has brought you to where you are today, it is who you become with the present that matters most.

The moving process will probably give you an opportunity for a clean slate and a fresh start. Take advantage. It may mean letting go of things/items that can serve a purpose with others before you leave. Be prayerful and the Lord will guide you. Remember that no matter the current home, or goods you own, they will never bring you the joy and satisfaction that comes from learning and growing through trust in God.

In your new area, you may feel lonely at times. You may yearn for old connections and friendships. There are so many tools out there to keep you connected - use them to fuel you, but don't rely on them. No technology will replace the growth that will come from face to face connections you will make with those that surround you. Give that loneliness to God. Because while you may feel lonely, you are never alone. Pray for ways to be proactive and ideas to get to know those around you. Then go and do them. Stepping out of your comfort zone may be a big challenge for you, but it will probably become one of the most rewarding. Trust those ideas of connection as they come to you.

You may be starting new job or supporting a spouse or parent who is starting a new job. It may be hard. There may be unforeseen challenges. There may also be unforeseen opportunities. Encourage them. Lift them. You will always be stronger together. And remember, you're on the same team.

You may need to let go of things that no longer serve you, and moving may instigate this change. Let go of the resistance and trying to hold onto old ways, and become curious. It may begin a learning journey for new routines in every day life that you may have never considered had you stayed comfortable. Allow yourself to be molded into who He desires you to be.

You may need to let go. Of work. Of volunteer commitments. Of a whole list of things you once identified yourself with. And that's okay. Remember that all of those things had purpose in the present, and it's okay to give yourself permission to embrace new chapters. As you lean into the new, unseen opportunities and understanding about your true identity as a Child of God will become more clear.

Remember the small and simple tools of connection with God. Pray, study the scriptures and obey His words to the best of your ability. Begin a daily habit of the small and simple if you have not yet. It will be a strength to you, it will open the path for you to know His will for you more directly, and it will remind you that through His strength, we can do all things.

One day, you'll walk around your house, and it will feel like home. It most likely won't happen until you've put your heart into the place - cleaning, organizing, unpacking and hanging things with meaning on your walls - but it will happen. The day will come that you unconsciously turn on a light switch - one that you couldn't find on the wall initially. You'll no longer run into doors or walls during the middle of the night. You'll hear a sound and know exactly where it's coming from. But beyond any of the things you place in the house, the feelings of "home" will come from the memories you choose to create within its walls. Be consistent with those simple moments that will bring connection and peace to you.

You may experience a burning desire to explore. In ways you never felt before. Trust those feelings and to the best of your ability - with your commitments, time and finances, explore. It could be as simple as a Saturday afternoon adventure, or an overnight camping experience. It may mean a mini-vacation. As you explore, you may find a burning desire to learn the cultures and traditions of where you live. Take the time to learn them. The more you learn about where you are, the more you'll see the beauty in those who surround you. It may increase your desire to learn more about who you are. Study that. Embrace it.

One day you'll be driving in what was a new area, and will realize that you are able to navigate your way without the help of any digital assistance. Soak in this achievement. Celebrate it. Congratulate yourself on every destination you are able to reach with confidence.

Sometimes, you may look up to the sky and see clouds. The weather patterns and skyline may feel unfamiliar to you. Take time to learn these new patterns. And remember that no matter the clouds, the sun is always shining. It is always constant.

Grow the good. In your home. In your heart. In those you come in contact with each and every day.

Look up as you are in every day life. Look out to those who you can be mindful of and serve in small and simple ways.

Be patient with yourself. Do the things that fill you up. Maybe that's connecting with nature, going for walks and talking, exercising, deepening your meditation, prayer and scripture studying, developing a new hobby, or sitting down on the floor and playing with young children.

And above all, cultivate gratitude. Begin each and every day with a prayer of gratitude for the journey as it is unfolding. And end each day focusing on the specific ways God has been mindful of you.

Because he is.

His love for you is abundant.

Simply choose to trust.

Yoga Flowing

Once upon a time, there was a new mom. And with a new chapter in her hands, and a day no longer scheduled or time blocked with a business agenda, she found herself relearning the every day with their little baby boy, whom she and her husband loved so dearly.

New routines meant new experiences. And once she recovered from her delivery, she noticed a new class at the gym. She'd never attended a class. She'd never really needed to. But this class was offered at a great time for her and her baby and it seemed intriguing. It was a "mom and me" class - she could bring her baby with her, keep him in his car seat and do a class with other moms.

Since he was so little, and since she had no clue of how he would be in that type of setting, she gave it a whirl.

And then the toughest moment of the journey came.

She had to walk through the door for the very first time. Step into a space she knew nothing about, meet people she'd never known, and allow herself to learn new things.

She paused. A spark of fear of the unknown surged through her body.

And then took a deep breath of courage. Because courage is not the absence of fear, but the action through fear.

She relaxed her shoulders, hooked the car seat on her forearm, pulled the diaper bag over the older shoulder and walked in.

This journey took her so many amazing places. From two mentors who empowered her not only to attend classes, but to take courses to begin teaching classes, and then who taught her how to practice and refine her skill. They motivated her to learn how to teach other formats and truly step into any room with an open heart and mind ready to connect with whomever joined her.

She found herself teaching at multiple gyms. Classes grew and grew. New faces became regular faces. Connections were made. Friendships blossomed.

And while she loved the flexibility and variety of all the classes - she loved the power she felt and taught in strength classes, the movement and dancelike motions of a step class, the precision of a strong pilates mat class, the sound and rhythm of a powerful spin class - she found that her heart, soul and mind truly sang with yoga.

Over the years, as her and her husband grew their family and moved from state to state, she continued to cultivate her love for yoga. She studied topics, went to trainings, mentored under incredible teachers and read books. She wrote classes in her spare time, found unique music, and would take notes of things she loved from any class she took.

Over time, she found herself not only teaching yoga, but striving to live the principles of yoga. She and her husband found themselves applying the principles of the yamas and niyamas in intentional ways: they spent a year only spending money on absolute essentials, they cultivated contentment through date nights after the young children were in bed, they chose one word to focus on each month, and then for an entire year, they found themselves letting go of comparisons, competitions and judgements, they practiced listening to their thoughts and discerning truth. They looked for moments to be mindful of, and strove to choose experiences over things. Above all, these practices strengthened their connection to God and empowered them see and embrace the beauty of their religion on a much deeper level.

Again they moved to a new state, and teaching group fitness became a source of connection in an otherwise unfamiliar place. She loved the new friendships, and looked forward to teaching yoga each week. And her love for the practice grew and grew. She moved from teaching in a small room, to teaching in the biggest room the facility could offer to create space for all those who chose to be there with her. It was beautiful.

Knowing she wanted to continue cultivating her skill, she chose to sign up for a series of trainings that would help her "complete" her 200 hours of yoga training. It would require travel and time away from home, but she felt ready, and her husband was so supportive.

But then a big choice came into her life. A new direction.

As much as she wanted to learn and grow as a teacher, it paled in comparison to the desire she had for adding another baby into their young family. And together, she and her husband moved forward with faith.

Knowing what mattered most outweighed what mattered much, she found herself letting go of one thing to further embrace another. And as her belly grew, and she later held this beautiful angel, she felt peace in her heart.

She took this brand new bundle in her arms as they moved to the next state. And this little bundle was a light for her as she navigated new terrain and a new chapter as a family. This little soul spoke light into her heart and helped her focus more deeply on the beautiful gift of motherhood.

She found herself wanting to teach and embrace these spirits she and her husband had been entrusted with. She knew her best use of time during this season was with them.

But her love for yoga and empowering other women remained strong. She found herself creating a whole new way of teaching. The words "strong and mindful" spoke to her as a way to serve and be mindful of those she connected with. To remember that we all have a story and we are all in this together. From her home in the early morning hours during the summer months she started things she had never thought of before. She made dear friendships and together they wrote a yoga series centering on self-love and connection. The next year, she wrote an entirely new curriculum, and did it again the third year.

Each curriculum she wrote and taught she continually strived to live. And the journey was beautiful.

Shortly after she started that third summer, it was time again for their family to embrace another move across the country. And while she knew it would be so hard to leave something she had created and loved, she knew what mattered most mattered more than what mattered much. And what mattered most was the experiences and learning and growth that would come to their family with this new chapter.

But before she left, she knew it was time to create something beautiful. A retreat for women. In the mountains. To center. To empower. To connect. But she couldn't do it alone. And God knew who to place in her path to guide her and together they created something beautiful.

As much as she loved those experiences and knew they were good, she also knew it was not sustainable. It was pulling her in too many directions and was stretching her too thin. She couldn't give her very best to those little souls who mattered most.

And as they moved across the country, she let it go. She let go of her business. Social media. She let go of the retreats. She let go of the classes.

She was lonely yet free.

Sad yet at peace.

Less than yet enough.

Heartbroken yet loved.

The pendulum of emotions confused her. She didn't know which ones were true, so she created space to simply feel them. To honor them.

And over time, she discovered something beautiful.

The times and seasons led her to her exact spot. All things were for her good, and for the good of those she was around. They were part of a plan and path that she needed to walk. They helped mold and shape her into who she was at this very moment. But they did not define her. She could continue to write her story. To change. To learn and grow in new ways. And as she continued with faith, she would be led to do good continually and to strive to serve with all of her heart, might mind and strength.

As she soaked in this peace, she honored the past, present and future of her love for yoga one evening with three of her darling angels. One whose energy is like the sunshine. Bright and warm. One whose energy is like a calm quaking aspen. Strong and steady. And one whose energy is like the ocean. Determined to continually flow beyond what the eye can see.

The things that mattered most mattered more than what mattered much.

It was not a big audience. Nor was it the perfect yoga studio setting. But they connected together. And in the moments, between the breathing and flowing movements, she strove to teach them to love and honor their bodies and the gifts that they are. To love and honor their minds and all the good they can do in the world. To honor their hearts for all the love and light they can give. And to honor their spirit - to hear the soft, calming voice above any noise.  Because the light within her, she wants to share with the light within them.

And she had peace in her heart as she discovered the true gift of yoga wasn't in the destination. It is in the journey. And so she moves forward with hope. Not knowing the road ahead, but trusting in the One who guides her.

The first snow

We woke up to fresh snow and a winter break. No school to attend, errands to run, or activities to go to.

Freshly fallen snow staring at us through the window.

For a moment, I felt a jolt of excitement with my kiddos as they were so excited to get out and embrace it. Snowmen, snow angels and sledding were at the top of the list. I thought back of how much I loved playing in the snow as a kid myself, and was happy to create memories with them.

Then reality set in. Getting the right clothes together to fit the right kid. Then someone had to go to the bathroom. Then we had to find gloves. Again. And a different hat because the hat we had was too itchy. Then the one year old was hungry because she was too distracted when everyone else had eaten breakfast. And then the three year old, who was standing at the door had to go potty. Again. And I still had to put on snow clothes.

My mind went from excitement, to patience, to exhaustion, to frustration. "I simply wanted to go out in the snow with them. WHY is this so stinking difficult?!" I told myself.

By the time we all made it out the door, my mind had turned it into another task on the list. "Well, we're here, so let's do this so we can go back inside" kind of a feeling. Not how I wanted to experience the first snow storm with my kiddos.

So I took a deep breath. It was crisp air and filled my lungs with cold energizing alertness. I looked across at the field of snow in front of me. Untouched. Glistening in the sunshine, and glasslike flat. It was silent. Feeling present again, I pointed the direction of the 'perfectly fallen snow.'

"It looks like Elsa's castle!" my three year old jumped up and down in her clunky snow boots. My son launched ahead of the group to get a head start on sledding.

As I was pointing, I felt a smile come back over my face. My head turned slightly, and I saw a new angle of snow. This snow, also untouched, was by a pocket of trees. Unlike the beautiful flat snow, it was full of bumps and ridges. Shadows fell behind each ridge, and the glittering sparkles were mixed throughout the sun and the shadows.

This quiet yet profound thought hit me like a truck:

"It's not the glasslike, flat snow that brings beauty. It's recognizing the highs and the lows. Seeing the peaks and the valleys are what make the glistening and the sun-kissed snow so beautiful. You've felt the valleys this morning. Now create your peaks."

I chose to listen. To leave the frustration of "getting out the door" at the door. To allow myself to feel the peaks.

5 Steps I've found helpful to allow myself to let go of frustration:

1. Empathize. There's a part of me that hears "it's too scratchy" coming out of my little one's mouth and I simply want to say "you get what you get and you don't throw a fit." And, actually I do, depending on the situation. But, I took a minute to listen, tried it by my ears myself, and it was pretty dang scratchy. Enough that I'd probably go switch it myself. And since this one really didn't know where another hat was, I was the first person to ask.
2. Breathe. Especially after coming out of those valleys. When the 'rush' has passed, and we're transitioning into the next stage (for us it was walking outside), allowing myself to feel a few breaths helps me become present again.
3. Look. For me, I first recognized the glass like snow and glitter. Recognize something with a feeling of gratitude. No matter the location. No matter the situation. Find one small thing, and try to feel it.
4. Share. Whatever I see, I try to point it out to my kiddos. While their reactions vary, they often bring a small smile to my face as I realize how much they often teach me in such unexpected moments.
5. Listen. To that quiet, soft voice that knows who I am. Let go of the negativity (it's in the past), and choose to embrace what happens in the present moment. Who knows, I might see even more peaks.

Our Month

"Oh, man." I say again as I pull into the driveway to pick up my little people from a play date.

Alexis comes running, smiling and happy (as always). Looking at Max, I already know what has happened. Red faced, hands in pockets, bright red ears, runny nose and hiccupy breath. That's my boy every time I pick him up from pretty much anything these days. At this moment, I'm having more flashbacks to the time he was 2, turning 3, and his severe anxiety of wind. For details, there are snippets in this post and this post. But today's memory I flashed back to was actually never posted.

We were a good month into the fear-of-the-wind stage. It was June, 2009 and we were headed over to our neighborhood elders quorum BBQ that Mike was in charge of. He had arrived early to set up, so I showed up a bit later with the two little people. Mike was cooking and grilling for most of the night, and Max was happy running around with the kiddos. Until he realized there was food. Until a summer breeze shifted some of the napkins. Until he realized we could all potentially lose everything in sight to the wind. I still have vivid memories of him crawling underneath the park pavilion tables crying to all that would hear that everything was going to blow away. I still remember him clutching onto everything he could grasp in sight - not only his plate, cup, napkin and food, but everything else he could get to as well - purses, car seats, anyone's food, drinks, plates - he was trying to hold everything. He was so stressed out in fact, that my yoga-inspired techniques of deep breathing were completely ineffective. I still remember being so stressed and feeling so frustrated. Needless to say, we headed home early - probably a good thing, shortly after we'd left, the storm really picked up with actual winds and rain for the night. I still remember my sweet neighbor looking at me and just laughing (yes, Kathy), saying, "Sara, someday you will look back at this and just laugh and laugh." She was right. After about a month, Max got over it, and I now think back on that once stressful BBQ night and laugh.

Well, I've arrived at another one of those times where I have to keep reminding myself that someday I will look back at this and laugh. Except the month is coming and now going.

This time, he's developed a fear that I won't return. Not the typical separation anxiety that kids have right at the moment mom or dad leaves them. This one is delayed. Not a set amount of time, but at some point his mind registers that I have been gone for "awhile" and should be back by "now." And since I'm not back "now" then, the only conclusion is that I have left him forever, never to return. He then panics, cries (almost) to the point of throwing up (although I think we're getting pretty close to where he's actually going to make himself throw up), and asks the adult in charge (teacher, parent, whoever) to go get me as soon as possible.

Sometimes they can, and they do. Like at church, when Mike and I are in the middle of teaching our lessons at the same time. Or, a phone call, to come pick up my little man from a play date that he was supposed to be at for another 1/2 hour while I'm supposed to be catching up on errands.

But, sometimes, they really can't (or shouldn't). Like when he's in preschool with a class full of kids. Or when I'm in the middle of teaching a class at the gym.

And when those times come, I'm really grateful for their patience. Because I think they get it. They know, even though I have serious doubts, that he will figure this out. Get over it. Move on. And realize that, yes, I will come back to get him.

Here's where I insert the story of how I left him one time, or forgot to pick him up from something, or where he had this traumatic experience and thought he was stranded on the curbside, completely alone without food or water.

Oh, wait. There actually isn't one. For some reason his mind has created this very real anxiety that when I leave him (and once I've been gone for an extended period of time), that I really won't be back. Never. He will forever have to survive and live at his at school, at the gym, at church, or at his friends house (which, in some cases probably wouldn't be that bad!).

He's had this a little over a month. While I don't think I can say that I've tried everything, I can say we've tried A LOT. Mostly from recommendations from other moms who've had kids with separation anxiety of some sort. And, I have to admit. He has improved in some situations. Like during most of preschool - when his mind is constantly stimulated and busy, he's good. But then they switch to a few moments of free play and he starts to wonder. Thankfully, his teachers know this, and are able to step in and keep his mind busy on a different project while the other kids play. But anytime that he's in a situation of "free play" - a play date with another kid, spending time at the gym, a moment of down time anywhere, he's a goner.

So, I'm using this post as a vent. To write, read and laugh (a little) about everything I've tried thus far. Who knows, maybe someone will read this and have another idea. I'll try (just about) anything.

1. Cut out a heart and put it in his pocket. Did this one. Idea that "mom is always with you." Similar to the story The Kissing Hand (we tried the kisses on the hands, but thought a heart would be more tangible). When I picked him up from teaching a class, he pulled the heart out of his pocket and in tears said, "mom, the heart didn't work! It's just a piece of paper! It's not really you!" Right bud. Here's where you should use that vivid imagination you have.

2. Wear a watch. Write and show him at what time I'll be back. This one worked for the first 1/2 hour. Then, he decided that time was moving much too slowly. Panicked that his watch was broken and he would no longer be able to tell when I would be back. Sat and stared at watch for about 5 minutes. Convinced time was not working correctly had a full on panic that I was never to return.

3. Wear a sticker (similar to the heart). Whenever you see the sticker, remember that you're holding onto it for mom and she'll get it when she comes back. Yeah, right.

4. Ignore it. Yep. I've tried this one. Calm cool energy, no discussion prior or after to try to avoid the attention it is getting. Didn't work.

5. Deep breathing. Yep. I'd say he's a pro by now with the deep breathing process. But, since I'm not around when it all happens, he doesn't want to or remember to do it early enough.

6. When he's calm, have a discussion about why moms and dads pick up their kids. This was actually a great discussion. We had yet another conversation with his preschool teacher about what would happen if mom was a little late. What he and the other kids would do, and what all kids do. It actually went really well. Days later, he could even reference and talk about it as if he had complete understanding. All rational behavior and thoughts though are lost when this kicks in.

7. Stop and say a prayer when you start to feel sad or worried. Tried that one. Tough thing is that he usually doesn't remember until he's really upset, so then he can't calm down anyway.

8. Distraction. Thankfully, since this all happens while I'm not around, there are some really kind and patient people who really are trying their best to help Max out. All kinds of distraction techniques are used. Some work for a bit, some not at all. He's even had tours at the gym to see where all of the "hidden" toys are if he wants to play something different.

9. Practice time. We've done this a few different ways, but it's to help him understand what "10 more minutes" would feel like via setting a timer and then by seeing the time disappear. Kind of okay, except that he gets really fixated on it (similar to the watch), and then begins to worry when I'm not around.

10. Sing a song while I'm gone. He actually made up the song himself. "my mom always comes back, my mom always comes back, my mom always comes back, all day long." Song worked. But then forgot the lyrics and couldn't make up new ones. Since I'm talking about songs. He has a such tender heart. Last Sunday, he was actually doing really well. Finally! I thought to myself as we were approaching the last portion of church and I hadn't heard from his teacher. Until the primary started practicing the songs for Mothers Day. "Mother, I love you, mother I do" were the lyrics Max sang, as tears started to stream down his face, then thinking about how much he missed me. Tears turned into the red faced-upset little man so they came and got me. In the hallway, Max gave me a big hug. I asked him what happened and he said, "mom, we were singing about you, and I couldn't remember where you were and I started to get really sad just thinking about you, so I wanted to see you and give you a hug." Hug gladly accepted.

11. Reward (okay bribe). I gave him a set number of times for "good happy Max." If he did this for a certain number of times, he earned a trip to the dollar store. He did this perfect - twice. Then tried to negotiate that he should only be good if he could go to the dollar store after every single time. I'm wouldn't give in to his terms and the deal was off as quickly as it had been on. I didn't feel too terrible - I hate all of the Chinese plastic that seems to multiply and take over the house!


Next steps? I'm actually going back to the reward system. It's the only one that's shown some type of success. This time, he'll be filling a jar with rocks for "good behavior when he's away from mom." Once the jar is full, a one-on-one date with mom or dad, of his choice.

And time. Because sometimes that is just what it takes. We have a doc appt. set up relatively soon, so maybe that'll provide some extra information too.

And, I think it's becoming a bit of a habit for him. Now it's just about breaking the habit. Although I'd like to attribute it all to the fact that I really am that awesome and cool, I know it's not the case.

I'm actually amazed if anyone has read this long into the post. But, if you have and can actually offer thoughts, suggestions, comments, I'd love any. Don't be shy.

Tasks and Life

I read this great article recently in Yoga Journal that asked, "am I rushing because I am under stress or am I under stress because I'm rushing?"

I feel like I've been all over the place lately. Between tying up loose ends here, to getting things ready in Minneapolis, to working, to teaching classes, to being a mom, anyone around me has been able to sense that my stress level has been up there.

After reading this article, I decided to take this question to heart, and consciously make an effort to not let the stress of tasks trickle into becoming the stress of life.

So, I decided to run an errand on my bike. With the kiddos behind in the bike trailer. It was nothing glamorous - just a few miles to go down the road and back. I'm such a fan of people who do this all the time, and just wanted to branch out for myself.

Was it a crazy, blood pumping workout? Nope. Did it take longer than if I'd gone by car? A little.

But my little adventure last week was completely invigorating. Like a new sense of freedom. Like I could accomplish anything I set my mind to. So good that I've done it a few more times since.

Amazing how such a small and simple tweak gives us the chance to regain perspective. Maybe I'll get everything done and ready for the move, maybe I won't, but I'm glad I have this in my back pocket. It'll be a great reminder to consciously relax (a little).