Locked Out

Bringing a puppy into the mix of life has been full of moments. Moments of joy. Moments of crazy. Lots of moments of crazy. Lots more messes to clean up. And lots of moments of love.

The first week was a bit hectic. He really missed his family and couldn't settle down to sleep the first two nights. I tried everything I could think of, but it was all pretty fruitless. Around 4:00am the second morning (as Mike was headed out to the airport), I turned to trusty google for any kind of tip or answer to calm the pup so he could acclimate to the new home. And sure enough, a fantastic dog training video (McCann Training) popped up and offered just the tools I needed to help settle him in his crate and adjust a little easier. Since then, he's been making progress.

Figuring out puppy potty training and weaving it into the schedule of school drop offs, pick ups, volunteering, errands and after-school activities has been an adventure. But, training videos have been a helpful first step for catching ways to teach him proactively and overall, he's figuring things out.

One morning, after I'd gotten everyone off to school, I ran him outside and he was a bundle of energy. He and I had a blast running around the house and he's been playing fetch so well. When we were all done, we turned to go in the same door we came out. I have been teaching him to use the first couple of stairs, and as we took the last step to the door, I began to slip off my shoes and turn the handle.

But the handle didn't turn.

Immediately, I realized that I had managed to lock myself out. With no spare key. No other way to enter the house. And with a little puppy who was then ready for a nap.

After taking a stroll around the house (hoping I'd left something unlocked somewhere!), I came to the conclusion that the only way back in would be with a locksmith.

Gratefully, I had my phone. I don't believe I'd taken my phone with me on any other play time with the pup, but I distinctly remember having the thought "grab your phone" as I walked out the door. Not thinking much at the time, I placed it in my pocket and headed out with the puppy.

Yet, as I sat on the step with the puppy, I was SO grateful to have a phone. Of course I texted Mike and filled him in (who was in Mexico at the time), called a locksmith (ouch, they aren't cheap!) and hung out with the pup.

It's funny sometimes how bumps in the road remind us of how much opportunity we have to choose how we respond. My initial prayer when I realized the door was locked was that I could find an unlocked door and let myself back in. And while that initial desire wasn't answered, as I sat outside waiting for the locksmith, listening to the birds and the trees in the soft breeze, I realized that what I needed had been given to me before I realized I needed it. I was so grateful for the impression to grab my phone before heading out the door, and for His awareness in the little details of my life.

A Pause Between Pages

A new chapter begins. New state, new home, new community and new schools. Our oldest begins his last year of middle school while our youngest begins her first year of Kindergarten. The first day of school, they awoke excited yet nervous. Confident yet doubtful. Calm yet anxious.

Or maybe those were my emotions.

Because as I watched our kindergartener boldly step into her classroom, held the hand of our second grader as she asked bubbled with energy, saw our fifth grader courageously step into her classroom with a smile, and chatted with our eighth grader on his way to school, the moments filled me with reminders of their strength, their light, their courage.

They are there and I am home. It is quiet. It is still. As this new chapter begins for our family, I find myself taking a moment to pause between the pages. Drinking deeply the moments of the past. Of exploring and discovering. Of letting go and trusting. Of embracing and connecting. There is so much to be grateful for.

The light of those moments travel through me like the warmth of the sun on my skin on a hot summer day. Closing the eyes for just a moment to see, hear and relive them as they imprint on the mind and heart.

Between the pages, I find moments of vulnerability. As with all change, what encompasses the next chapter is new and undiscovered. Yet, if I truly look back at our story, I see two themes carried throughout every page.

Faith and courage.

Pausing for a moment to breathe them in deeply, I remember. How they speak to my Spirit, open my heart and soften my rough edges. They are continual teachers as we travel as students of life. I remember. There is nothing to fear, nothing to hold back from.

I am ready.

The next chapter awaits.

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.

Pressure

I love watching the Olympics. Probably one of my favorite things are the highlights placed on the other countries, seeing how their culture trains for such a worldwide event.

After reading this article, and hearing the comments from China's head men's gymnastics coach that he would accept nothing less than to go home with no less than five gold medals, I was reminded of the tough expectations this culture, and other Asian cultures put on their youngin's. It reminded me of an experience we had in Korea. While I don't think Korea is quite as extreme as China, it still is a country that sets many similar expectations on their youth - in fact, those chosen to play sports begin at an extremely young age and attend athletic schools to excel in that one area, just like China.

Since Mike and I attended a University during our stay (we both majored in business, so we pretty much took the same classes while we were there), we were able to experience first-hand the pressures the academic students are placed with. While I don't remember the class, it was something financial that required calculators and problem solving.

For our midterm, we were in a large auditorium and were told to sit in every other chair (it was a big class, so this was typical to a test you'd take in America). Then, the professor and TA passed out the exam (again, typical). After listening to the standard instructions of how long, that we could use a calculator, etc. we were told to begin the test (typical). Here's where it got interesting.

First, the professor walked out. Next, ALL TA's WALKED OUT. They completely left the ENTIRE auditorium empty except for the students and their tests. Then, we watched as all the Korean students started to pull out additional "notes" from their bags, move chairs to sit closer, and actually started talking during the test.

I remember glancing at Mike, to make sure he was seeing the same thing I was, and we just had this look of shock. Problem #1 was extremely complicated, and I remembered thinking that you'd have to cheat to even know how to answer it! Still thinking "American" we sat quietly and took our test how you'd take it in America. The time was up, most of the Korean students finished early (big surprise), and the professor NEVER came back to the room. Only one TA showed up at the end to collect the tests.

I remember walking my test up, feeling furious. When the test results came in, it was pretty obvious that most of the exchange students had scored the lowest on the test, compared to the Korean students (I say most, because some of the exchange students jumped on the bandwagon and caught some of the extra notes during the test).

We confronted the professor, and of course, he totally denied it. I even remember him making some comment about how much more studious the Korean students must have been. I then remember him (later) telling us not to worry, as we'd be sure to see a high grade by the end of the semester (which we did).

As the semester went on, we started to ask around and learned that (in general), this test experience was not a one time thing. This was a cultural problem instead. In short, the professors are expected to give really difficult tests to the students, who are then expected to pass them. Since there is SO much pressure for them to pass, there is this "loophole." The TAs provide some of the students with the "materials" they needed to pass the test, and are expected to share this information with those taking the test. The professors and TAs leave the room so they never witness anything happening, and therefore, can't punish any of the students. In America, this loophole is called cheating, and if you're caught doing it, I'm pretty sure Universities just give you the boot.

I do have to note that not ALL Koreans participated in this way. There were definitely some who stuck to their guns and didn't join in. And, not all of our tests were presented in this manner either - the professors who had actually taught in America followed very similar standards (i.e. they stayed in the same room). And, I do have to say that overall, Koreans were some of the MOST STUDIOUS people I've met. Everywhere you looked, at any time of day (weekend, week night) many of them spent hours and hours pouring over their textbook materials and memorizing all they could take in. So, by no means do I want to discredit those who were doing it the "right" way.

But, with there being such a cultural expectation to succeed, I have to think - what happens to them? And what happens if everyone expects you to become a top business professional, and you just don't get it?

What happens to these gymnasts who at age 7, they see really aren't that great? They are years behind all of the academic kids. Are they the ones making all of Max's toys?