Yoga

I did my first yoga workout today. I don’t think it went quite the way it was supposed to, though. There wasn’t much peace and serenity involved. The problem could have been the two children who were extremely interested in what I was doing.

Anna narrated the whole workout for me.
“Those grown ups on the tv are acting like they are sleeping.”
“Now they are pretending to wake up.”
“Mommy is sleeping. I will wake her up now.”
“Mommy is going to crawl now. I will do it with her.”


In the mean time, Christian thinks that mommy is in prime position for playing.



Downward dog pose quickly became a tunnel to be crawled through.


Cobra pose obviously was an invitation to climb on my back for a ride.



Cat pose became a wonderful slide. I don’t think you are supposed to go from cobra pose to cat pose with a 43 lb child on your back, but the instructor on the video didn’t say that. Maybe it’s an advanced variation.


The Warrior pose also made a great tunnel. Too bad I wasn’t supposed to stay in that pose long enough for him to get all the way through. Of course, he thought that getting squished was great fun, so he crawled under me with every chance he got and stayed there until I either squished him again or moved so that he wasn’t in my way.


I did manage to get through the entire 30 minute workout (for the most part). I hope that yoga isn’t an all or nothing thing. With my two little ones running rampant while I am trying to do something good for my body, closing my eyes and dismissing “every thought that enters the mind” just doesn’t seem like a safe thing to do.


Is it still possible to get some of the benefits of it even if I can’t engage in the peaceful meditation part of it?


Any yoga experts out there in the blogosphere who might know?

Musings

At church yesterday, the pastor talked about service. He spoke about all service being equal in the eyes of God. Cleaning the bathrooms is the same as preaching to millions if both are done with the right heart and motives. Service is service and God does not designate one as greater than the other. There certainly are those that appear more glamorous and important to us, but glamorous isn’t necessarily valuable and important isn’t necessarily effective.

So, now I’m wondering if my desire to do more and be more is just my own insecurity surfacing once again. I’ve realized recently that I have a high need to see the results of my work to feel that my effort has been worthwhile. For the most part, results means others seeing what I have done and recognizing it. My attitude has been, “If I spend hours or days working on something and no one sees it or is affected by it, what’s the point of doing it in the first place?” I guess it comes down to a need for external validation.

I know that there are those who serve doing what many would consider menial tasks, but for them the act of serving itself is all the reward they need. I wonder if my need to see the results of the work I do is a character flaw that I need to work on or just a function of the gifts and talents that I’ve been given. In other words, how effective is a painter who paints and then hides the canvases in his attic? What good can a musician do if he never plays his music for others? What use is a writer whose words are never seen? It’s something I’ll have to think and pray about.

Any words of wisdom?


Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.

Running Scared

I have a confession to make. It might make me a bad mom, but it’s time to be honest. So here it goes. . .

I like it when my son gets scared.

I don’t, of course, like that he is afraid, but I like what happens when my little man is scared. A loud noise from construction outside or the siren of an emergency vehicle sends him running, as fast as his chubby two-year-old legs will take him, for the protection of my arms. He scrambles up into my lap and hides his face in my shoulder. He holds onto me with all his might. That is the part I like. Some days it is the only cuddle time I get from him.

Since the day the little guy started walking, he hasn’t stopped moving unless he was eating or sleeping. Occasionally he does come and give me a spontaneous hug or drooly kiss, but those moments are gone as quickly as they begin. A good scare can give me perhaps a full minute of soft, wonderful baby hugs. If he has a bad dream or other night-time fear, I might get 15 minutes before he either falls asleep or wakes up enough to decide it’s time to play. 15 minutes! It’s like heaven.

So. . .there it is. I enjoys those times when my son gets genuinely scared. Do you think it makes me a bad mom? Oh well. It could be worse. I could scare him on purpose.

Hmm. Now there’s an idea.