I usually wake up around 4:30am every morning. No alarm clock needed. Like many others in today's world, I find myself plagued with racing thoughts that keep me from falling back asleep, so I just get up. My habit is to get up, put the coffee on, turn on the gas logs, and do thirty minutes of yoga every morning. Yoga is something fairly new to me. I am not all about "transcending" through meditation. I have just spent the last 2 years in one extremely stressful situation after another with no break. Therefore, I have managed to develop some serious problems associated with anxiety. You know the usual culprits-panic attacks, migraines, MAV(migraine associated vertigo), chronic muscle spasms in my neck and shoulders, TMJ disorder. Yeah. It has been a brutal way to live that most people can't possibly understand the physical pain and anxiety involved. So, yoga. However, I do my yoga with a twist. Some people say a little mantra as they hit and hold their poses. Others, "ohm" or even count. I repeat certain bible verses for certain poses. When I am in "child's pose", I pray. Hard. Sometimes, I pray until tears are just streaming down my face. I realize this sounds like it would be counter-productive to the "relaxing" that is supposed to be taking place, but I have found that this ritual is becoming the anchor for my day. The foundation for the day. I can get out my worries to God before I set foot out of the house.
We live in a world that deceives us everyday. There is no end to it. It is so easy to fall into "the world". And what's worse is that once your in there, it is so hard to get out! John Bunyan, author of Pilgrim's Progress wrote about a place called the "slough of despond". When I was reading the book, I thought of that as being "hard times" that we get stuck in during our lives. Now, I can see it as "the world" in general. I have spent most of my life in this "slough". Failed relationships, smashed plans, all of the things that are evidence of being stuck in that mire. For me, I have decades worth of evidence piled up. I am lucky that God forgives our mistakes.
I was raised in church. You know the drill. Every Sunday morning, Sunday evening, most Wednesday nights. It didn't really help me much because by the time I was 16, I was already quite determined to go my own way. Of course, I chose the rockiest most uphill way I could find and stayed on it for years and years. Occasionally, I would look toward the better path, maybe even take a few steps that way, but I always thought I knew best and would continue making the same mistakes over and over again.
This past summer, my husband and I went through one of the most heart-breaking experiences ever. At 36 years old, I was lucky enough to get pregnant as soon as we started trying. I have two children from previous husbands (yes, that was plural). My husband has no children, and we were so excited. At 17 weeks, we went in for the routine exam. There was no heartbeat. The ultrasound showed that the baby had passed away. We were devastated. To some degree, we still are. The baby had Trisomy 18, which is like a severe form of Downs-Syndrome that is completely incompatible with life. I had already developed anxiety problems before this every happened. I was hoping that a healthy baby would relieve that and calm me down. So much for that.
After this, my husband and I started praying together each night to pull ourselves closer. Closer to each other. Closer to God. Since that time, I have been on a mission to increase my faith. It's hard. Look around. It feels like the world is falling apart. I just have to remember that's o.k. "The world" is the problem anyway.
Months have passed. I have read a lot, prayed a lot, hoped a lot. I still suffer, but it's getting better. God's not holding my hand; he's carrying me.
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