All About My Yoga Practice

At the beginning of 2016, I set a goal to do yoga on a consistent basis. As a mom of three, I wasn’t sure how I was going to navigate it, but I wanted to at least try. And if I hated it, then I hated it.

But I loved it. Still love it.

I’m not a fanatic. The past few months I haven’t been practicing as regularly, in fact. But it has truly changed aspects of my life. Which sounds weird, doesn’t it? Yoga changed your life? Are you a hippie, Janelle?

I mean, not yet anyway. I’m not eating a clean diet either, if that makes you feel better.

I want to share with you all the what, the why, the how’s of yoga for me. I’ve had a lot of people ask me about it, say something to me about, or ask me to be their teacher (you know who you are), and can I just say, all the praise hands for that. Dare I say I have a passion for yoga? Yup. It’s there. Like a little campfire in my soul.

So, we’ve touched on some of these topics in the past, but I think it’s worth it to go over them again. Ready? Let’s do this.

What is yoga?

Well, I’m not positive on that definition, but here’s what the internet says:

a Hindu spiritual and ascetic discipline, a part of which, including breath control, simple meditation, and the adoption of specific bodily postures, is widely practiced for health and relaxation.

I know, that “Hindu” word has got you freaking out a little. So let me help you out. While I do yoga, I am not engaging in Hinduism. Yoga has definitely modernized and changed with the times. In fact, there is one yoga ministry (Holy Yoga) I know of that devote their practices to glorifying Jesus. Just because one does yoga does not mean one is a heathen. Untwist your panties.

For me, yoga is connecting my mind to my body. For the past five years, I have spent almost all of my time nourishing myself for two. I had developed habits that we were good for a pregnant and breastfeeding mother. But as a mom who was now neither of those things, I felt like I didn’t know how to eat, work out, or know what my body was actually doing. Pregnancy does that to you.

Why yoga?

Not only was I eating poorly, but my body was not bouncing back after having a baby. I am lucky to have genetics that have blessed me with a body that rebounds rather quickly, but I felt like I didn’t know my body. Physically, things are different, obviously, but I didn’t know how strong or weak I was. My core felt like a hot mess. And the motivation for working out to fix it? Absolutely not there. I tried running, and hated that with a passion. I tried exercises I could do at home, but I felt like I was getting no where. So I bought a yoga mat clearanced for $8 and decided I had to give it a shot. The idea of being able to do a headstand was what intrigued me. Before I started yoga, I couldn’t do a single push up without struggling.

What does your practice look like?

I initially began by looking at articles on the internet that showed pictures of other people doing yoga. I did yoga for a brief time in middle school, so I was hoping I could do poses from memory. Wrong. Don’t try that.

I had an epiphany one day to look on YouTube. I chose a beginner video, and spent most of the time trying to get into poses, getting out of the poses to look at the video, and then trying the pose again. I spent the first few weeks doing the same few videos every other day, focusing on how a pose works, what it should feel like, and how to get in and out of it. As a beginner, I relied heavily on patience to get me through the learning process. It helped that I watched videos done by Candace, a great instructor. She describes poses so clearly, as well as what the body should be feeling in the pose.

I would do the same two or three videos a week, every week, for about a month. Once those flows felt “easy” or got boring for me, I moved on to a new video. I wasn’t necessarily “good” at yoga. It took me about 6 weeks into doing yoga consistently that I realized when in Upward Dog, you aren’t supposed to just leave your legs on the floor. (It was such an easy pose up until that point!) I was doing a lot of learning, which meant getting to know these muscles that I forgot I had or didn’t know were there in the first place.

I now practice at least every other day with a thirty minute or longer video. And if I’m feeling really good, I practice every day with the hopes of nailing a pose I’ve been struggling with.

There are endless articles on the internet that will proclaim the benefits of yoga on the body and mind. I can only tell you exactly what it’s done for me.

When I began, I couldn’t do a push up well, if at all. Today I don’t struggle. I even incorporate them sometimes in my practice. I also have balance that I didn’t have before. When my practice is lacking and I haven’t done anything for three days (and it’s always on the third day), my back starts to hurt. I never had back issues in the past, but I do know that yoga has largely increased my flexibility. My back tends to tense up when I haven’t been stretching it.

I can now get into a headstand without the help of a wall or my husband. It took eight months of solid work! Eight months! It’s slow and steady. But the results show when it becomes part of your routine. There are certain poses that I still cannot do, but the fact that I have the challenge to get there really gets me excited, another thing I love about yoga. It takes work to get there, but hitting a headstand for the first time made me feel like superwoman. I don’t have a six pack. But I can keep up with my boys now better than before. I’ve seen results from putting in the effort to put myself first.

But how? How do you do this?

I make room for it. I put my boys to bed and roll out my yoga mat around 8:30 and get to work. I choose it. Maybe it isn’t for you, and that’s okay! Yoga makes me feel like a kid, makes me feel like I am getting stronger every day, and makes me excited to keep challenging myself farther every day. I do it because I love it. Do what you love, right?

Here are the videos I did to help get acquainted with yoga:

15 Minute Morning Yoga to Wake Up

20 Minute Yoga Flow for Beginners

20 Minute Total Body Beginner Flow

15 Minute Chill Out Restorative Yoga Video

Here are the videos I’m currently loving:

30 Minute Power Yoga – Heart Opening Practice

30 Minute Creative Power Yoga Flow

45 Minute Yoga Video for Strength

The Old Testament & Redemption

For the past few weeks, I’ve been reading through the book of Isaiah. Old Testament books always take me longer to get through, and honestly, I tend to skip over things that I don’t want to read about. (Genealogies, anyone?) I used to read very intentionally and spend time studying verses by paragraph, journaling through it, and praying over the words. I don’t do that much anymore, mostly because my time in the Word is in the middle of my kids watching TV and simultaneously wanting my attention. I take what I can, when I can.

Isaiah is a hard book for me. Maybe if I read it more thoroughly I could give you a detailed analysis of what the book goes through, but honestly, the first 25 chapters depress the heck out of me. God has a lot of judgement for a lot of people, and it’s the part of God that people are most afraid of. Humanity is rebellious in nature, so reading about how God has handled that in the past (before Jesus came for us) seems scary.

So I trudge through. I know that there is redemption and salvation in this book, because I read the introduction in my study Bible that said it was there. (See, we all don’t need to be Bible scholars to read this book.) And when I got there, it was rich. Full. It did not disappoint.

Before I reached the part where praises and glory and honor are given to God, I literally went about reading through Isaiah like it was a novel. A story. Sometimes it’s the best I can do. I don’t retain all the information, but I know that His Word goes out (in this case, into my mind) and never comes back empty. Remember that. You don’t have to be analyzing all the workings of the Bible in order to benefit from it. You simply have to show up sometimes, let the Word do its job, and read it. If you think it’s failing to do its job, you may try looking within yourself.

I’m not finished. I have a few chapters left. But I got to this verse and felt like my knees needed to be on the ground:

Lord, you will grant us peace; all we have accomplished is really from you. Isaiah 26:12 NLT

For two years, I’ve felt like we have been striving constantly. My self-employed, freelance graphic designer husband has a job with no steady income. It isn’t for the faint of heart. I’m working on contentment in my soul, because we are blessed beyond measure, truly. I just get restless here, wanting more for us, to see the fruit of my husband’s work, to see all the success that I think he deserves.

When it gets really hard for me, my faith buckles. I am hardly peaceful.

This verse feels like the redemption. The redeeming grace in my tireless striving, the truth that I don’t have to work so hard to have more. I want to find my way to my knees in order to pray this so fully it’s like my bones cry it: Lord! You grant us the peace! All of this, whatever our accomplishments are, they are really from YOU!

When it is all about Him, the pressure isn’t on me. I don’t have to perform. I can have peace, available to me at all times, because He gives us all that we need. You, Lord Jesus. What a Redeemer.

When I Mess Up

Maybe I should just title this, Every Day of My Life.

I said something to a friend a few months ago that still creeps up into my head every so often. It was one of those things where I had formed an opinion about someone. I knew voicing it served absolutely no one, except for my pride and my temptation for good gossip. It made me feel better about myself. As though I couldn’t keep it from coming out, I just said it, without much thought. Like word vomit, I had voiced something that I could no longer contain to just my own little brain. It was now in my friend’s thoughts, making her form opinions about someone based on my prideful, arrogant statements. Gossip is cruel.

My friend probably didn’t notice in the slightest that I had just messed up. But I knew; the minute the words cascaded past my lips, my stomach clenched. Why am I saying this? I am one heck of a sinner.

There are other instances in my life where I have messed up that make me cringe just at the near thought of them. Reliving them in my head feels like torture. And sometimes, they come back to mind like an unfriendly reminder that I am not such a great human after all. At any time I am bombarded with thoughts like, I should tell this person what I really meant. I can’t believe I said something so stupid. I have to correct this. I can never fix this. They probably hate me. They probably think I’m _____. They probably don’t actually like me.

With friends, it feels easier to ignore confrontation when I mess up. With my husband, I have to deal with my mistakes. When I voice what I think is happening, Evan normally gives me a look. I know it well. It’s his was of saying, “No Janelle. You know that isn’t true.” And nine times out of ten, I know it isn’t true; whatever I feel and think is a misconception, a lie I have believed, or a recollection filtered through a sinner’s mask. And nine times out of ten, I am apt to believe lies, not the truth that I know in my heart.

I mess up, a lot. I stumble over words and let unkind things come out. I say things to my husband that I shouldn’t say. I think things in my head about people that are just harmful.

If every day of my life is like this, and I have survived so far, then I’ve got to believe that I’m going to be okay. God has a redeeming grace that does not fail, does not cease, and calls me out when I’m messing up. He isn’t scared away every time I trip over my own sin. He isn’t laughing, He isn’t embarrassed, He isn’t full of scorn. He is ready whenever I am to get back up, to deal with my mistake, and to move on to the road that leads me home.

Sometimes it takes my mess ups and my sin to give me perspective: when I mess up, I am never too far gone. Instead of kicking myself for being a gossip, I can pray right in the middle of it for God to redeem me right there. For there to be a change in my ways. For my mind to be fixed on His ways and not my own. There is redemption wherever you are, and you are never too good for it, either.

When I mess up, I think I’m losing. But I’m just getting another dose of grace. And I am grateful for everything God gives, because He loves me so much to never let me be too far out of reach. He won’t relent. I’ll take a relentless God over my mess ups any day.

Seas & Fame

The other night Evan was away while I put the boys to bed by myself. Bedtime is not my favorite time because getting everyone to bed in a timely manner takes a lot of time. I don’t usually read to my kids before bed because I’m lazy. But that night felt important. So I read the story of Moses delivering his people out of Egypt. I told my boys about God parting the Red Sea, and how He saved His people.

My four-year-old asked me some questions, and the conversation led to Jesus. Liam wanted to talk about how Jesus died on the cross and came back to life. He talked about it with no doubt in his voice. He believed it because I told him it was true.

In a couple of months I’ll be turning 26. It feels pivotal, a moment where I realize getting older is a real thing, not just something that happens to adults. I’m the adult now (not that I have doubted that recently), but now it feels wholly more important to know what is true, to live with eyes fixed ever on God, and to acknowledge that I am not invincible.

I’m also living at a time where women have the ability to challenge any adversities they feel. A woman is running for president this year, something that was unheard of for decades. Women are rising to positions of power. Women are embracing fully that they are not a lesser sex.

It is a great thing, to be a woman. It is a great thing to rise to occasion and fulfill a role that we feel called to. It is glorious to know who we are, to celebrate independence, to be strong and confident. It is good.

But it isn’t quite for me. That isn’t to say being confident, strong, sure of myself, or independent isn’t for me. It’s that I don’t want that to be all there is to me. I don’t want my accomplishments to be what is left of my name. I don’t want to be the woman that stood in power just because I earned my right to be there. I don’t want to walk in confident strides just because I know I’m a woman who can be and do anything.

Thousands of years ago, God took a sea and parted it in half, leaving a dry valley for a people to walk through. He delivered His people in a way that was out of this world; He delivered on His promise to take care of the people He called His own. I love that story. I love that history. When it feels like my problems are huge, I remember:  the God who literally parted a sea is my God. He is my Savior. He is my redeemer. He loves me. He has a multitude of grace for me.

I want to be confident. Strong. Independent. I want to do things that make waves in the world. I want my stride to leave confidence in my wake.

But not because of me. Not because of the way I walk. Not because of what I can do, who I think I am, what I think I’m capable of. I do all of this because I am loved by God. I do these things because He lives in me, sets a fire in my bones, makes way a path for me, gives me peace, leads me by still waters, anchors me when storms rage, redeems me when I fall short of grace. I am a woman. But I am His. First, foremost, always. Let His Name overpower and surpass my own. Let His fame be seen whenever I am gone.

Seas are capable of parting because my God is my fortress. Anything is possible because God is able

I’m pointing to Him. Anything that comes from me, all because of Him. Confidence and strength because His promises never fail.

Girlfriends & Lip Kits

Last week, my best friends introduced me to the Kylie Jenner Lip Kit. I have been a skeptic, but I have also been convinced it must be worth it because of the recommendations I had been reading online. I tried it. And I’ll probably never buy any other lipstick again, it’s that good. I’ll probably need to start blogging for money to keep up with the obsession. I consider it worth it. (Also, consider this the highest recommendation I can give you. Get one. ASAP.)

These girls have been my best friends for years. We’ve seen each other through the awkward stages of middle school up until now, and there really isn’t anything I keep from them. For a few years, we were in different cities, only seeing each other every few months, and talking scarcely because of college classes, life, and work. The joy of now living in the same city is for real. I can’t get enough of just how much of a blessing it is to do life with these women.

The times when they weren’t here, though, were hard. I didn’t have any close friends to depend on, and I didn’t have the female companionship I needed. So I prayed some. Not consistently, hardly enough to consider it a real prayer I feel like, but I do remember asking God for some people. Some community. Some people who I could walk through life with in different ways.

You know what blows me away? God has made it happen, tenfold. It has taken quite a bit of time. I didn’t get a crowd of women in a week. I didn’t even get women who I could walk with right away. Ever so slowly, friendships came to life. I heard the anthem of who I was in Christ, truly heard it for once, and felt like I didn’t need to hide myself from people. That I actually could be me, the woman I felt inside, not the woman I wanted to be or thought I had to become. I shed fear like a skin, and I realized the freedom there is in partnering with other women to just be with each other. To share the life we’ve got. To pray warrior-like prayers because we need each other! We’ve got so much to offer when we aren’t glancing at each other with side-eyes and comparing outfits and hair cuts.

It’s changed me. These women I’ve got are so good to me, and they probably don’t even realize it. They challenge me in glorious ways. It’s never about comparison anymore. It’s about how much I admire them and how God works in them. Getting to see Him in their lives is miraculous, glorious, beautiful.

I look at the two women I have known for 10+ years respectively, and I want to give God the biggest hug for giving me lifelong friends such as these. They have seen me through every huge moment in my life, and they’ve let me join in on their own. What a glorious thing to love and be loved by women who know me like blood sisters.

I see the women in my church, in my life group, and those who I do ministry with, and I want to hug all their faces. They have shown up. They have taken boldness in stride, even if it means just being at Bible study with me, and have taken the chance. I get to learn with these women, love others with these women, serve with these women. It becomes less and less about Sunday mornings and more and more about being the Church together. We see the same God. We love the same God. It makes this race of life a joy knowing we’re running all at once, all for the same cause.

It isn’t about numbers. Give that a rest.
It isn’t about the exclusivity of the way I make friends and keeping only the ones that seem to benefit me. (Which, I can justify that that isn’t the excuse, but I admit it. I’ve been that friend.)

I want to see the women I come across, and see them, past the whole look we all may have going for us. The Kylie Jenner lip kit lips, the shoes you’ve got on your feet. I want to see you. I want to see the Lord in you, and be your sister there. I want all the fun conversations too. I want to know what gets you fired up. I want to meet you right where you are.

If you meet me right where I am, I promise you it won’t be tidy. I’ve got junk. I’ve got a list of burdens I’m consistently dumping off at my Savior’s feet. But my goodness, come here and meet me. In the middle of all of it. Because I want you here. In my messy house, my half-finished fixer-upper, and give me a reason to praise the Lord. Because that’s what I want to do:  give God the glory for bringing you to my doorstep.

I’m welcoming you, ladies. I’ve seen what God can do when I pray simple, inconsistent prayers for friends. I’m praying for bigger, for stronger, for even mightier. Join me.

How to Press On

I got a text from a friend yesterday that brought me back down to earth. It was a day chocked full of instances that flung me out on emotional, frustrated tirades. There didn’t seem to be any remedy until my boys were asleep, the TV was on to drown out silence, and I was stuffing my face full of unhealthy fast food.

I wish I could say that every day I crack open the Word, and good and glorious things come forth from my day. It just isn’t like that. I pick up a pen to write, but end up staring at a blank journal for 15 minutes while my toddlers destroy something in the background. I wish I could say that “pressing on” was an easy feat, that I have overcome the hard days of feeling like sludge, but I truly haven’t. Some days take me to the pits, and some days I have to use every sliver of strength I’ve got to find my way out.

So what does it look like? How do we press on when crap might literally and metaphorically be flying everywhere, tears are stinging our eyes, prayers feel like forced conversations?

Here’s what I know:

It takes the Word of God. And can I be 100% honest? Sometimes I get that nifty handbook out and feel like the words are in hieroglyphics. It doesn’t sink into my brain. It bounces off and lands elsewhere on my floor. I have to force myself sometimes to keep reading, because I want to check out. I want to continue on and exist without it for a moment, because this ancient text feels like a bunch of bricks.

But I need it. And maybe that means reading and reading and reading like it’s a book, not just verses. Maybe it means not even taking the time to picking it apart paragraph by paragraph. Maybe it means not even hoping to get something just for me. For me, it means reading it and hearing it. Feeling it. Knowing that whatever is here is good and worthy, even if I don’t fully understand. I read to be filled. The Word never returns empty, and I choose to believe that for myself too.

It takes acceptance of my emotions. Hello! I am emotional. I struggle to hold it together when I’ve been stuck with my boys for five days straight, our air conditioner stops working and it’s 80 degrees in our house, and I forgot to actually get dressed. Lies work overtime, my friends. I’ve talked about this before. Satan is working 24/7 to give me hell, and he isn’t going to quit until I’ve breathed my last. I can’t trust my emotions because I’ve got sin riding in my heart, and I am not perfect. I’ve got emotions that can change in a second because I’ve got lies ticking in my head.

I’ve got to acknowledge that they are there. I’ve got to give them room to breathe out, to cry if I need to cry, to tell my husband why I feel angry, to say things with a warning (i.e. “I am saying this because I feel it, not because it’s true.”). I’ve got to let them out, and then turn my face back to Calvary:  I am good. I am worthy. I am a sinner, and yet, I am saved. I am covered. I am free. So I can move past emotions, I can forgive myself when I lose my cool, I can forgive others when they do the same. I can acknowledge what hurts, what makes me feel helpless, what makes me feel like I am not enough. And then I can throw the ones to the wayside that aren’t true.

It takes trust. Evan and I have been married for five years, and our marriage has taught me a huge thing about myself:  I have pride. Pride that is Mount Everest sized. I want to do it all, be it all, and I want to refuse help to prove how strong, courageous, good enough I am. And every. single. time. it leads me with my butt on the ground because I’m knocked over by my own faults. I cannot do it all. I have this great man next to me who literally pulls me to his shoulder and makes me lean on him. I don’t have to stand on my own two feet at all times.

And maybe you aren’t married, so this scenario doesn’t seem to apply to you. But walk with me a minute. The other day, the day that I felt like crap hit the fan and I was feeling emotionally crazy and about to cry, I was hoping Evan was going to show up for me. I was waiting for him to ask me what was wrong, help me fix my feelings of frustration, and give me the peace I wanted. He never did. He’s just as human as I, so I cannot expect him to fulfill a God-sized job like the one I had enlisted for him (unbeknownst to him). I realized I needed to lean farther, until my shoulder hit my Creator, so I could lean on God. I closed my eyes and lifted my hands palms up and cried. Big ugly tears. Because I needed my Father, wanted Him more than I wanted a man on earth, because my God is able. He is a God who sees all and knows all and has done it all. He could reel me back in when I was flying out too far from reality.

It takes a lot of prayer, trust, humility to press on towards the prize: Jesus.

I don’t press on so I feel better. I don’t press on for the goal of looking holy. I don’t press on because I know it’s what’s best.

I press on because God is worthy. I press on because He gave up everything for me, little me. The chick who loses her cool, holds back gratefulness, has pride the size of mountains. He loves me, enough that Calvary could take care of the sin in me. I press on because I am enough because of His sacrifice; because of His sacrifice, I can press on to give Him glory.

The Heavens and the Olympics

Thirteen years ago, I found Jesus with my brother in the middle of an alter call at a youth group. I was reminded a couple of weeks ago at our junior high youth group just how much Heaven rejoices when a lost soul finds its way back home. How the angels must roar in triumph, how the King must pump His fists in the air with tears streaming down His face. How He must have wanted to wrap me up in His arms in that moment.

We are on day three of the Olympic games in Rio, and I am obsessed. I’ve spent most of the past weekend with my eyes on the television, watching these incredible humans make history. The thrill of competition makes my adrenaline skyrocket. Although, it’s easy to watch when the country I live in wins so many metals and has the most athletes competing.

When we win, my first reaction is to jump off the couch. I restrain myself because my husband isn’t nearly as enthusiastic as I am. But it’s so good. I love a good world record. Hearing the crowds roar. Watching the faces of gold medalists as they realize they are the best in the world. It gets me every time. I’ve watched the Olympics every year since I can remember.

This morning, I tried to do yoga (which was hard, getting up before my kids feels like torture, if I’m being honest), but my body was not awake. I felt sore from sleeping, and that made me feel old. I won’t ever be an Olympian. I’ll never have a crowd of tens of thousands cheering for me on this earth, because I’ll never be the best in the world. I’m okay with that. I don’t need that recognition.

Thirteen years ago, I made the heavens lose their cool. I made them rejoice louder than I can imagine. I made my King shout with joy, because I had found Him. Louder than the Olympics. Louder than I can comprehend. Every soul brings that sort of party.

I have stuff I’ve got to do today, I’ve got frustrations on the forefront of my brain that won’t seem to quit. The King of kings is cheering me on. He loves to watch me just be myself, because that’s more than enough for Him. He loves to see me turn my eyes to Him. I don’t have to make everything happen, but I’ve got to keep my eyes on Him. And remember how the heavens rejoice over me because I’m on their team. There are angels up there giving me thumbs up, and looks of “You can do this.” I can. Maybe not in Olympian-type fashion. But in Janelle-getting-things-done fashion.

This feels ramble-y, and I’m just talking to talk, but I can’t get it out of my head: the vision of God so proud, so loud and excited because I am His. He loves me. He is proud to call me His. Better than any gold medal, I think.