Tip of My Iceberg

I’m at that point in life where I  need to be mindful of building strong bones and remaining flexible. My Mom shrank three inches because of osteoporosis.

I do some weight training, but I also do yoga.

Some folks have issues with the practice of yoga. The mindfulness–or emptying of your mind–often confuses people about what the practice represents.

I’m typically watching TV while doing it, often the morning news. The only thing I’m mindful of is the truly sad state of affairs of our world.

That and balancing so I don’t fall over.

We’re sharing an apartment right now with my one daughter, her husband, and two children. Her two little ones are truly engaging and quite interactive. Often to my detriment.

I rolled out my mat the other morning, having switched on “Good Morning, America.” I did some stretching, felt really good, and began to go with the flow. And the news.

Melody and Ward came down; she needed coffee, and he needed people interaction.

Coffee in hand, she sat on the couch and gave him free rein to wander.

Which he did. In front of my face.

I tried to plank. He plopped in front of me, bottom first, under my chin.

I couldn’t hold the pose.

I tried a deep lunge Warrior 1. He crawled under my legs.

I couldn’t stop laughing.

I tried downward facing dog. He sat on my head before sliding onto my outstretched hands.

I totally lost it.

My best intentions to exercise at the beginning of the day were thwarted by an engaging and entertaining one-year-old.

I didn’t care. The laughter felt more energizing than a child’s pose, my favorite stretch.

After I gave up, he threw himself into my arms, a broad grin on his face, his pacifier hanging from his mouth.

It felt wonderful to just sit with him.

It’s easy for me to make plans and not take into account the little ones currently surrounding me. With responsibilities to complete, people to see, meetings to attend, I can become rather focused on what needs to happen rather than who is in my line of vision.

I can become annoyed with them.

There are times when I feel I’m that annoying child to God. Where my small issues–which are massive to me–are just too much minutia for Him to bother with. In light of all the problems in the world, the losses, tragedies, disasters, and fears, what I worry about is nothing. Not worth His time.

But God is our Abba Father. The One who is intimately acquainted with us in all our mess and still chooses to love us.The One who sees all we do and knows what we are capable of, the good and the bad. Once we are His, we can’t be separated from His love by anything we do or think.

Abba is an Aramaic word translated as “father”. There is no good translation for this. It reflects an intimacy in the relationship, the reality of belonging to God Almighty.

I can’t annoy Him. I belong to Him.

Being loved and belonging–could it ever get better than that?