Gratitude, Day 3

In August, a Bikram yoga studio opened up really close to me. It was a dream come true for me; I love Bikram, but I couldn't mange the 15+ mile drive to the closest studio, or the drop-in rate very regularly. Having a place to practice that is only 4 miles away made me super happy. I've been going weekly ever since, with the exception of the times when my kids are out of school.

Being able to practice regularly has opened my eyes a lot to this style of yoga. I found out that as much as I love the class, I equally hate and despise parts of it. My feet ache in almost every posture. I hate how wobbly and inflexible I am on my left side. I dread going into Standing Bow Pulling, Standing Head to Knee, and Standing Separate Leg to Knee poses. This dread is only surpassed by my ultimate hatred for Camel Pose, which simultaneously makes me want to weep, and run from the hot room, screaming.

But mostly I love it. I love learning little tricks to making the poses easier. I love how I'm overcoming some of my balance issues, and how I'm getting more flexible.

I also love the owner and the tone that she sets for the studio. The Salt Lake studio I had practiced at was really intimidating. Everyone was so granola-y, with their Subarus in the parking lot and fancy yoga mats and towels and row upon row of perfect pose practitioners. I didn't feel welcome there; being there brought out my competitive side, and I didn't like that. Who tries to compete in yoga, after all. Ronda, the owner of the studio here, is really kind and real. It filters down from her to make it a very nice place.

One of the poses I've really been practicing at is Standing Separate Leg Stretching Pose. Basically, you are standing with your feet 3-4 feet apart. You grab your heels from the outside and pull, lengthening the backs of the legs as well as down the torso. The object is to touch the top of your head to the towel. I've touched my forehead in class one time before this week, but I didn't really do it the right way; my stance was too wide, and I wasn't lengthening from the right places.

But on Friday, I did it. I was really close on the first time through the pose. Since every pose is done twice, I thought I might be able to do it the second time around, and I was right. The stars aligned, and for a brief moment right before the pose ended, my forehead touched the towel.

The rest of the class felt like floating. I didn't mind any of the other poses I usually hate. I didn't want to run screaming out of the heat into the cool reception room. And while I don't know that I could do it every time, that time, I succeeded in a small thing. A small thing that really means nothing in the large context of my life, but it made me happy.

I've been thinking about my post about the envy I felt this spring during my first time back to Bikram. It was so unfair of me to be so envious. I made a realization of sorts during class on Friday. There was a group of girls who were having their first class. I watched them here and there and listened to the instructor help them with the poses. I wasn't really comparing myself to them (although I felt bad for one girl, who had worn some mascara and eyeliner and it ended up melting all over; nothing is safe from the sweat during hot yoga), but I recognized their inexperience and wondered how they would react to the class.

After the class, they were all in the locker room while I was getting dressed. They were talking and laughing about the class, enjoying the bewilderment of doing something new. And then they started talking about running, and how they were going to run 13 miles the next day for their long run (they were training for the Arizona Marathon in February.) Envy set in. Envy I haven't felt before in that studio, but that I brought to myself when I realized that even though it was their first class in Bikram, and that they probably didn't love it, they would be running a lot farther than I am running these days, and I imagined that they were all a lot faster than me, and I instantly felt crappy about myself. Despite my happy moment of touching my forehead to the towel. I started comparing myself to them, and it took my happy place away.

Why do I do that to myself?

I realize set myself up to want things and abilities that I haven't earned. I want to be the best writer, the best blogger, the best runner, the best yogi, the best photographer, the best reader, the best mom, the best cook, the best everything. Not because I want to be better than others, but I just don't want to be less than them. Is that the same thing? I don't know. I think that being competitive is part of my nature, but that it doesn't really serve me well. It sets me up for feeling things like envy that isn't really fair to either me or the other person.

So how am I to be grateful in this? I guess I want to stop putting myself down. I want to stop setting myself up to be the person that I pity. I want just be glad I touched the towel and not berate myself for not being able to run 13 miles the next day. I want to be grateful for what I can do, even if it isn't the best. Even if it's just one pose, for one day.  I want to stop doing the mental and emotional mathematics of who is better or worse or equal to me.

Knowing that I can try to learn to be that person, gives me something to be grateful for.

Gratitude, Day 2

Today was my youngest niece's wedding. It was a beautiful day, and I was so glad to be able to be there.

I didn't take any pictures. Well, that is a lie: I did take one selfie before the ceremony. But other than that, nada. When I was the photographer at the wedding this summer, I was annoyed at all the others taking pictures. I had also read a post about letting the photographer do his/her job by staying out of the way. So I kept my phone and camera in my lap and enjoyed the ceremony and dinner afterward, making mental pictures and trying to make memories.

(Side note: I was so nervous for the photographer during the ceremony. Gah! So many moments to try and capture. Moments that don't come again, that don't have a do-over. I'm sure she did a great job, but I was having some serious anxiety on her part.)

After the ceremony, I sat with my family and chatted. There wasn't any one moment that was significant. I simply enjoyed myself. I loved seeing all of my family together. Sure there were some tense moments. But there were others that made me laugh, like when we put together a group photo of my boys, Amy's boys, and our husbands with the bride and had them make the duck face. Or when everyone was teasing Shane about his hair (he's been growing it out all summer and it looks smoking hot. Everyone had an opinion about it.), and my two oldest nieces laughed about a long ago memory of Shane's hair that they love to tease him about.

My mom's wedding dress and photo were on display. I looked at what a beautiful woman she was, and still is. I liked looking at her hands in the picture: the same hands I've watched sew nightgowns and dresses for dances and costumes and quilts, make countless yummy dinners and desserts, and hold my little girl hands back before I was too cool to hold my mom's hand anymore. I love her. My grandma's cedar chest was there, too. Right before we left, my mom gave me a baby picture of me that she had found in the chest. My grandma had written "Becky Bue In Hospital" on the back. It made it feel like my grandma was right there (which I know she was.)

It was fun to talk with so many of my nieces and nephews. I don't see them as often as I'd like, but when I do, I feel so proud of who they are. They are moms, dads, students, basketball players, workers, artists, soccer players, video game aficionados, runners, readers, dancers, and more. So many talents and personalities.

I hugged my sisters. I love them. I don't want to know what life is like without them.

I love my family. I love being with them and being a part of them. I'm so grateful for the incredible people that they are. We get annoyed at each other and then we forgive. We aren't perfect. But they are mine and I wouldn't trade them for anything.

Gratitude, day 1

I have lived, very happily I might add, under the radar of big callings at church for 15 years. Sure, I've been a librarian, spent one year in primary, taught gospel doctrine (probably my favorite calling ever; it is so fun to get into nerdy gospel discussions!), and a few others. But I had never been in anything resembling a presidency. I had friends in high places, it seems.

But all of that came to a halt a few months ago. My ward split, and a complete stranger put my name in as secretary for the Young Women group. Gulp. I panicked hard when I was asked; how would I manage meetings, how would I manage the weekly activities, what would my family do while I was away, how would my husband react? I've lived for so long with a sure-fire, presidency-avoiding reason all my married life: my husband isn't a member, so how could I be expected to do all of that?

I found out how. After a long call with the complete stranger who was the YW president, I decided to give it a try. In the back of my mind, there were so many doubts about my own abilities. What would I know about young girls? How am I supposed to be an example to these girls, when I stopped going to my own young women class at 15, never setting foot in my laurel's class? I went so far off of the path for so many years, would I be a good person to influence the daughters of so many more (righteous, LDS, firm in the gospel, knowledgeable, etc..) people in my ward?

I feel like I am the back-door leader. The one who watches these amazing girls and their fierce personalities, and wonders which of them will stray. I wonder what I can say to them that no leader said to me, back when I still listened. How can I teach them that if or when they stray, they can come back? That they don't have to turn their hearts against God because of the things they have done? That He still loves them and doesn't want them to throw away their relationship with Him because of the paths they took, or the sins they committed, or the alcohol they drank. That they don't have to be angry with him that they don't fit the mold that people want them to fill; that they have a mold that He has given them and they can let Him help them to make it fit.

It sounds like the wrong approach. But it feels right, for me. I can't pretend to be anything other than me. I don't want to. I want them to know that sometimes, people have to step off the path to know what they really believe. I had to live my life for a few years without the Spirit to know that I wanted it. I'm not encouraging them to stray. I just think it's a possibility. I want every one of those girls in my ward to know that I would love them without judgement, no matter what or how or where their lives take them. They would know that if they got into trouble and needed a ride home, I would come and get them. That they could run into me in Target in 10 years and know I would be happy to see them, regardless of what path they were on. (Maybe this is the hope of every leader. What I'm really trying to say that I can imagine if my leaders had seen me at my worst, they would have just felt disappointed in me. I would have avoided them at all costs. I wouldn't want any of these girls to feel or do that.)

A few nights ago, I gave four of them a ride home. It was completely normal, something I do for my sons and his friends all the time. But it felt so...special. I could give these amazing, giggly, girls a ride. I enjoyed it so much. It's funny to see how different teenage girls are from teenage boys.

The funny thing is that I knew this calling was coming for a while. I expected to get something in Young Women when I got my gospel doctrine calling. It's working out (I really hope I'm not jinxing myself by saying that!) It's true I am the old lady of the group (everyone else is in their late twenties, except for the president who is 30. Gah.) But I can be the old lady, I guess. 
 
The amazing part in all of this, one of the parts that I'm most grateful for, has been the feeling of...insulation I've had. I can't describe it better than that. I'm able to go to the meetings and activities and feel just fine with what I'm able to do, on all fronts. If I go, I can go and not feel guilty. If I can't go, I can not go and not feel guilty. It's such a great feeling, and I'm scared to even admit I have it in case it goes away. But it lets me do what I need to do and not feel conflicted. I didn't know that feeling could exist; I never would have known to ask for it, nor would I have expected to feel it. It's a much-needed reminder that I'm getting help to be able to do what I need to do.