How Being on TV Forced Me to Face My Insecurities

Everyone has insecurities. I feel I can fairly make that statement. It’s truth.

We are all imperfect, and we usually know it. Some of us can admit where we fall short, and others of us don’t do such a great job at that, but we all have things we don’t like about ourselves. One of the things I don’t like about myself is that I care too much about how I look, not just physically but as a person.

I’m insecure about certain aspects of my physical appearance. To be completely honest, I have always struggled with that. The parts of my appearance that I’m insecure about have changed over my lifetime, but there’s always something. I’m never just perfectly happy with how I look.

From conversations I’ve had with other women, this seems to be a common thread, but I’m very aware that many men also struggle with this. People seem to be more open to discussing insecurities these days, and I think that’s good; there is something freeing about actually calling out the one thing you hoped nobody would notice about you, and having them communicate that it’s not actually as bad as you think it is. It’s interesting hearing other people say what they’re insecure about, because it’s usually something that you would never have noticed on them, or that you wouldn’t choose as something they should be concerned with. If that’s how we feel about each other, isn’t it possible that the things we are insecure about really aren’t perceived the way we think they are either?

Greg and I recently filmed an episode of a popular show on a widely viewed American channel. We applied for it, and it was our decision to go on it. I was really excited to be on the show, and looked forward to it for months before hand, but when the day actually came to start filming, I found myself becoming very aware that thousands and thousands of people were going to see our episode, and see the very things about me that I didn’t want them to see. It brought out a lot of insecurities in me, not only physically, but with how we would be portrayed on the show as people, or how our relationship would be cast.

When you choose to go on television and you sign that waiver saying the network can use anything and everything they film you doing or saying in a five day stretch, for any purpose… you realize that you’re going to be seen. All you, from any angle, with no filters, whatever you said. Yikes.

A photo is still. You can take another one, and then take another one, and change the angle, and apply as many filters as you want. You can just delete the ugly ones (unless you like posting really funny ones to your album of unfortunate shots like I do). A photo doesn’t capture the stupid thing you just said, or the incorrect grammar that you heard coming out of your mouth that was too late to stop.

A photo can be photoshopped.

I had so many moments during filming where I nervously slurred my words, or said something embarrassing. I literally had all of these thoughts that week:

Was that even a word?

I need to google what I just said to make sure it was a word.

I hope they don’t use that.

Did I really just say that?

Ugh, I came across so stupid there.

I wonder if I seem shallow?

How will they portray me?

Our episode aired in America last week, and thousands of viewers saw it before we did! When I was notified of the air date, I found myself thinking some of those exact same thoughts again. How would we be portrayed? What would actually get shown? I wonder how obvious this or that will be on camera?

I’m a perfectionist and I expect as close to perfect from myself as I can get; this, of course, is an unrealistic expectation, and when I let my mind get stuck on my imperfections, I feel inadequate.

Most people, I think, want to be liked. We want to be accepted for who we are. We want people to think we’re pretty, and smart, and kind, and good at what we do. We want to feel needed. We want to know we have value.

One of the areas in life I wanted to learn to be better at in my thirties, and grow in during my time living abroad, was not caring what other people think of me.

I didn’t expect that I’d accomplish this goal entirely, but I hoped to move closer towards the “not caring” end of the spectrum than I had been; doing that show really pushed me to take a hard look at myself, and realize that I am who I am, and I have to own it.

I look this way.

I say stupid stuff sometimes because I don’t know everything.

I’m not 18 anymore.

My hair is a hot mess sometimes.

I don’t always speak perfectly.

I make mistakes.

I have scars.

Certain people will never accept certain things about me.

I can’t please everyone.

I’m not perfect.

But this is me.

And that’s okay.

Everybody’s Got A Story

Oh, to start again. When we moved to New Zealand, we left our entire lives as we knew them; we left behind established careers, family, circles of friends, and our reputations of who we were to others. We’re immigrants here; we’re the newbies in the country, and in the industry we’ve chosen to jump into. A lot of excitement comes from that, and freshness and newness, and we do so much learning. We’re challenged every single day to do something we’ve never done before, and we’re gaining so much. We are also having to prove ourselves, and we’re possibly being underestimated sometimes.

Greg came from being surrounded by people that know his skill set and how capable he is. In Canada, everyone who knew him trusted him and his advise in many areas, and often asked him for his help. Here, as is to be expected, he has to prove himself, and prove what he can do. Some people see the value in his skill set already, (some saw it very quickly), but others don’t trust him yet; that’s all part of starting again in a new place.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that certain customers in the Cellar Door were going to make a judgement about me because of my job. Some people have assumed that because I’m working a hospitality job, I must not be educated, or that I’m there because I can’t be anywhere else. Once people discover my story, I’m often asked why on earth I’m not teaching. I could be “making way more money,” they say. (Although a customer said to me with sarcasm recently, “yes, because teacher’s are in it for the money.”)

It’s not just me either; there are other women in my workplace that have university degrees, and could be working in a higher earning career that would bring more prestige, but who choose, like me, to be working where we do because we enjoy it.

Those that take the time to actually ask me about my story hear that I chose to be in this job, and it’s actually exactly what I want to be doing with my time.

Upon talking with Greg about this topic one evening as we sat by the ocean, we realized that for every assumption people have made about us on first glance here, we’ve probably made ten assumptions about others. We (I’m referring to us here, because I’m sure you’ve never done it…) have a tendency to assume things about others based on their jobs, or where they’re living, or what they’re driving, or based on a whole list of other qualities we can see at first glance.

Upon first look at our jobs or income here, where we live, or our cars, (especially mine – we call it “the fridge”) a person could easily assume I don’t have a degree, or that Greg doesn’t have much for skills or expertise, or that we don’t own a home. Anyone might assume lots of things about anyone else if they never hear their story – but if we take the time to ask, everybody’s got a story, don’t they?

My take from experiencing being assumed about, is to try to start assuming less.

As we talked on the beach that night, I realized that sometimes we can get to know small parts of people’s stories, when it’s appropriate to ask, and sometimes we can’t. With some people, if we have enough time, they’ll let us in on big, important parts of their stories, and that’s a privilege.

Whether or not we get to know any part of another’s story, we can realize that they’ve got one, and start giving people a little more credit than we maybe would have in the past.


The title of this blog was inspired by a good old country song. (I’m so Canadian at my roots.) I thought I’d share the lyrics to the Chorus here, as they seem fitting.

Drake White – Story

Everybody got their good days, bad days, ups and downs 
We’re all on the same world, spinnin’ around
Flyin’ with the birds, sinkin’ with the stones
Livin’ on prayers, keepin’ up with the Joneses
Some got a little and some got a lot
Some of us are lost, some of us are not
But everybody got their moment in glory
Guess everybody got their story

Learning to Accept Generosity

Moving to New Zealand has brought with it a whole set of life changes, and one of them that’s come to mind repeatedly lately is how often we’ve had to rely on other people’s help since we got here.

Back in Canada, when we had careers that paid us larger salaries, and we had our house, vehicles, and all of our stuff, we didn’t really have to rely on other people very much. We had everything we needed and so much more. If we felt we needed something we didn’t have, we would just go buy it. Greg and I enjoyed having people over to our house and sharing our food and wine with them. We were quite willing to lend our stuff to others, whether it was small things like clothes, shoes, hunting/fishing/camping gear, or bigger things like a vehicle or our camper. We had no problem giving things to people if we no longer needed them.

I also struggled with borrowing from most people, or accepting things from others. I always felt like I owed them. I didn’t mind borrowing things from family, as I felt that was slightly different somehow, but even then, I would prefer to buy my own things rather than use someone else’s, even if they offered.

I’m not sure why I struggled to accept someone’s help, other than potentially having some bad experiences with a few specific people. I can recall a couple of times in the past where someone has helped us with something, and then lorded it over us for some length of time, or used it as a bargaining chip to try and get as much out of us as they could for as long as possible. It’s a shame that a few people like that can make me think that others might be planning in their heads to do those same things when they help me. I have some difficulty accepting kindness, because I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wonder if some people will come to us and say, “remember when you first got here and we did this for you? Well now you owe us.”

The interesting thing about this assumption or fear I have put on others, is that I would never do that to someone else. I lent a colleague $10 a while back, and completely forgot about it. She paid me back a couple weeks later and I hadn’t even remembered I gave her money. I don’t mind sharing what I have, so why does it even cross my mind that everyone else might be secretly holding what they’ve shared with me over my head?

I think I’ve tried to live my life up until now being on the positive side of owing friends and family. Don’t get me wrong, our families have definitely been generous and helpful to us in many ways over the years, and could choose to lord some things over our heads if they wanted to, but I try to be as self sufficient as I can, and as generous as I can towards them, and leave asking for help as a last resort.

If someone paid for my Starbucks in Canada, I wanted to make sure I’d get them one next time, or the next two times; I couldn’t just accept the coffee without feeling like I needed to try and repay them with something of equal or higher value. I’ve even allowed my own guilt to motivate me into doing things for others that they probably didn’t expect of me, because I have such a good memory, and I remembered when they helped me last. I placed that burden of “owing them” on myself, even when others hadn’t. I still expect more from myself than I expect from others.

When we arrived in New Zealand, we had no physical stuff but the 3 suitcases we brought between us.

We had to accept so much help… I really mean, so much help. We were forced into learning to accept generosity.

Even once we got our jobs, we quickly realized that our lifestyle here was going to have to be very different than it was in Canada. Not only are things more expensive here, but we’ve taken a huge pay cut. We can’t afford to go buy most of the things we want. We can’t even afford to buy things that we used to think we needed. Our definition of what we “need” has really changed as well. We’ve realized that a lot of the things we used to think we need, are really just wants, and we can get by just fine without them.

For example, we have 3 bowls. (4 now, because I took one from work that had been sitting on the table for months unclaimed. It doesn’t match, but it holds food.) We don’t have many utensils! I do dishes at least once every day so we have enough. When we had our biggest party yet, we used every single utensil we had (forks, spoons, serving spoons, tea spoons) to serve dessert to people, and Greg and I ended up using whatever we could find in the drawer to eat ours. But we all ate dessert and I don’t think my friends minded (if they did, they were super polite about having to either eat their cake with a serving spoon or one the size of their pinky finger).

We used a broken clock for 2 months, until we finally decided we could break the bank and buy a new one. The old one ran slow, so every night it would be behind by 20 minutes. I would make sure to reset it 20 minutes ahead of time each day so that we were never running late.

Greg was shopping for groceries one week and I had told him how much money was in our bank account. He got to the till and put all the stuff we really needed at the front, and the stuff we wanted at the back, and when the total reached what we had in the bank, he said to the teller that he had to leave the rest. We’ve never had to do that before. He described it as a humbling experience.

I just wanted some lotion SO bad, and all of the decent smelling and somewhat quality lotions (ie. not Vaseline Intensive Care) retail for roughly $40 or more for a small container! I looked and looked, and eventually came to the realization that I can’t afford nice lotion here. I just can’t justify that price right now. It’s a small thing, but it was the final straw that broke the camel’s back for me in realizing that I have to significantly change my lifestyle in a lot of ways.

(On a side note, we do realize that these are the small sacrifices we are making to gain bigger, more important things, like being fulfilled in working in the wine industry, living in a warm place by the ocean, and living out our dreams, and we wouldn’t trade them!)

The examples above are things we just wouldn’t have chosen to deal with in Canada, or been willing to tolerate before, but we’ve been re-learning the value of a dollar. (And that’s a New Zealand dollar too, not a Canadian one!) I’ve started thinking about how long it takes me to earn something when deciding if it’s really worth buying.

This drastic change in our financial situation has forced us into accepting the generosity of others, and wow, are the people in our life ever generous.

Within a week of getting here, when my first car broke down (twice) we had new friends lend us their car. Their car. They biked to work for the days we had it. That was not easy for me to accept, and we actually had spent more money on a rental car the first time mine broke down, and our friends were upset I was being so stubborn as to not use theirs. So we conceded the second time my car broke, and borrowed their car. I was so grateful, but felt so guilty at the same time for my needing help to inconvenience them.

We’ve had several people lend us camping gear, hiking gear, biking gear, etc. on more than one occasion.

Greg’s bike and fishing rod are both on indefinite loan from friends.

Colleagues bring us vegetables or herbs from their gardens.

People have invited us into their homes for beautiful meals, or wine and charcuterie, many, many times, and invited us to spend holidays with their families.

They’ve welcomed us into their circles of friendship, and been so kind.

Friends invited us to their lake house for a weekend, or others have offered to put us up when we’re travelling through their areas, and they feed us and offer us clean, beautiful places to sleep.

Our family recently sent us a care package, full of things we want and need. They cared to ask us what we’ve been missing, and spent their money to bless us with things we would have normally bought in Canada without thinking twice about. Now, we appreciate them beyond measure. I’m sure it cost dearly to ship that over from Canada, too.

And, a colleague who heard me saying how badly I wanted some nice lotion, brought me one of hers, hardly used, and just gave it to me. Vanilla Chai. It’s fricken amazing. I’ve never appreciated lotion more in my entire life than when I put that stuff on.

We’ve experienced so much generosity from so many people, that it’s gotten to the point where I know I can never pay them back.

That’s a hard spot for me to be in, because I’m not used to it! I’m not used to needing other people this much. I’m not used to having to ask to borrow things. I’m not used to accepting a free gift from someone, just because she knew I wanted it. I’m being stretched out of my comfort zone which, although uncomfortable, I know is so good for me! It’s been really humbling, yet really difficult. It’s been really touching, and it’s made me feel so loved.

The generosity we’ve received makes me want to be even more generous to others.

I still struggle to accept things from certain people. Maybe my pride has something to do with it, such that I don’t like feeling like I can’t provide for myself. Maybe I will always struggle with accepting generosity or help, or maybe it will get easier. Maybe I’ll be in a position one day where I can take care of someone else as much as we’re being taken care of here. Maybe some of these people will lord it over us one day, or ask for something in return. Or maybe, they’re all just kind souls, who know what it’s like to need help, and want to use their positions to bless others, with nothing expected in return.

Hopefully we will continue learning to accept generosity day by day. We will definitely continue to choose to pay it forward whenever we have the means or opportunity. One thing I’m absolutely certain of, is that if everyone in the world was as kind as the friends we’ve been blessed to make here, this world would be a much better place.

A Merry Kiwi Christmas

We just celebrated our first warm Christmas in Hawke’s Bay, New Zealand, 2018, and it was wonderful. When we first chose our moving date, and I saw we were to arrive in Hawke’s Bay on the 13th of November, I said something very similar to the following to Greg. “We’re getting there so close to Christmas that we’re not going to have any time to meet people and make any friends who will invite us. We’re going to spend Christmas alone.” The many groups prior to Christmas, and the three wonderful groups of friends we spent Christmas Eve and Day with are yet another set of blessings we’ve received in this move. ❤️

Prior to Christmas, we were fortunate to celebrate with several work parties! Church Road had a formal party at the Napier Prison in November, that we were happy to attend, and enjoyed a lot! Then, during our December staff meeting, they gave us some quick notes, then took us down to our new container bar outside and surprised us all with another Christmas party, complete with Christmas songs, Christmas crackers, silly hats, bubbles, cocktails, and loads of food. They paid us for the time too! Then they sent us all home with several bottles of wine as Christmas gifts. We celebrated once more on the 23rd at a pub near our house with the Cellar Door and restaurant staff! Greg’s winery, Linden, also threw a Christmas dinner at an Indian place in Napier, and provided us with as much food and drink as we wanted, and great conversation and celebration.

Secondly, our connect group through our church had a Christmas BBQ with lots of great food, laughter and fun. We really enjoy the time we get to spend with our new friends, and the more we get to know them, the more we appreciate them! We’ve been honoured to be welcomed into the group by everyone. We had a gift exchange and I came away with a beautiful, Maori patterned picture of New Zealand, drawn by one of the guys who is an artist.

On the 23rd evening, Greg and I made the traditional Kiwi Christmas dessert, Pavlova. We had never seen one or tried one before, but we wanted to, and my colleagues kept saying, “oh you can’t buy one, you have to make one!” They gave me some recipes, so we set out to make it happen.

Christmas Eve was a great day; we both worked, and I did my first tour of the winery on my own, which was a great accomplishment for me. A few of us baked Christmas cookies and celebrated with some wine and baking after work! Greg and I had been planning to have Christmas Fettucine all year, like they do in my favourite movie, “The Holiday.”

We had the pasta for supper, watched the movie, and then went to join our new friend, L, with some others we had met before for dinner. We had great food, and stayed until after midnight. We learned that in many South American cultures, and some European ones, they celebrate Christmas at midnight! We watched the clock and had a Christmas toast at midnight before opening presents. Some of them had even gotten little gifts for us, which was so sweet. Finally, we got Kiwi approval on our Pavlova.

Unfortunately, it rained so much, all day on Christmas Eve! The weather forecast said there was to be a 100% chance of rain on Christmas Day. As this was our first warm Christmas, I had been dreaming of getting to the beach, and being able to wear shorts and sit in the sun. It sure didn’t look good, but I knew it was still possible; I was definitely praying for some sun.

On Christmas morning, we did a video chat with Greg’s family, who were all together after their lunch. It was nice to say hello to everyone, and to see their faces. It was still raining, and the forecast was not looking good.

We joined a family from church for lunch, who included us with their parents, siblings, children and nieces and nephews. I got to watch the children open their gifts, and run around playing with them, which reminded me a lot of being with our family. It was a really nice experience to sit together with a whole, extended family at their Christmas table, and share in a meal on one of the most special days of the year. They made us feel very welcomed, and were all so friendly. While we were there, the rain stopped, and the sun came out!

We had to go home in the afternoon to prepare some food for our evening meal, but we took the time to get to the beach. We walked down to the ocean, and enjoyed the sun and water! Greg swam, and I waded, and it was so warm and lovely and beautiful and perfect. Getting a tan on Christmas was a great gift for me! I loved my hour and a bit at the beach and was so thankful to experience that!

In the late afternoon, we headed off to see our other friends, R & A, where we celebrated with their two wonderful daughters, their Grandma and Grandpa, and a brother and sister-in-law. Everyone was, again, so friendly and welcoming to us, and made us feel like part of the family. The weather was still so beautiful out that we enjoyed drinks and charcuterie on the patio while R BBQ’d, and the girls made Kiwi snow angels 😂 (dish soap on the trampoline)!

We had so much food! They BBQ’d a leg of lamb and chicken, which were both amazing, and had several salads. We contributed a broccoli salad and stuffing balls from Canada. We had a huge array of desserts as well, including a fruit cake, which I normally don’t like, but it had coffee and chocolate in it, with icing on top, and was so good! Our Pavlova was a bit over-iced this time, so it lost some of the crispness, but still tasted good. We played some Twister, Jenga, and opened gifts, and were again honoured to receive a very throughtful, Kiwi book of some of the history of where we live! They even sent us home with some of Grandma’s recipes, and Christmas left overs that we’ll get to have for lunch this week.

When we got home, we opened gifts that we had been given by two of the couples in our connect group for Christmas. They knew we wouldn’t have many presents to open this year, and wanted us to have a little something for Christmas Day. One of them gave me a really nice candle that I had mentioned wanting a couple of weeks back, but didn’t have the budget for. She even remembered what my favourite scent was! The other gave us some cute Kiwi coasters, fresh cherries, a candle jacket with artwork that symbolizes life, love and new beginnings, and some quality chocolate bars, one flavoured with Canadian Maple syrup, and the other flavoured with Hawke’s Bay berries, to show where we’ve come from and where we are beginning our new year. I was so touched by both of these gifts, and our day ended with us feeling so unbelievably blessed at how loved we were this Christmas.

We got to speak to my family over video on our Boxing Day, which was their Christmas. It was special to get to have a chat all together, from afar.

I had been so concerned that we wouldn’t have friends, or wouldn’t be invited for Christmas, and all for naught. We were part of SO much celebrating, and received so many generous and thoughtful gifts. I even got my sunny, warm beach experience, despite the weather forecast saying it wasn’t going to happen. Christmas Day, a day to remember the birth of baby Jesus, was one more example of God’s blessings in this move. ❤️

It was a very wonderful, blessed, Merry Kiwi Christmas, and one I’ll remember as long as I live.

(Pictured above is a Pohutukawa Tree, that blooms in beautiful, bright red, over the Christmas season, giving it the nickname of the New Zealand Christmas Tree.)

In Times of Waiting

The more people I speak to these days, the more I realize that many of my friends, in Canada, and in New Zealand, are in the process of waiting. Whether they’re waiting for a spouse, children, a job, direction, healing, wisdom, friends, or something else, people are waiting, and it’s wearing them down. I get it! Wow, do I ever understand that feeling.

Seeing as how it’s advent, a season of waiting for Jesus to be born, it felt fitting to post this now.

Below, in Italics, is a post I wrote in the middle of September, when I woke up in the middle of the night. At the time, I was so frustrated that things didn’t seem to be working out towards our move. It seems crazy to think that I only wrote this just over 3 months ago, and that’s the position we were in at that time. We were just on the edge of God answering our prayers, but didn’t know it yet. Here it is:

Doubt; The Struggle is Real

It’s 4:16 am on September 12, as I write this. We already thought we’d be moved away by now. I’m laying in bed thinking about our life and our future and right now, doubt is winning over faith. It’s a daily struggle, because our house has been up for rent for almost four months now, and we’re still in it. We wanted to live in the camper this summer and summer is over. We don’t have plane tickets, or visa applications underway. We can’t even answer people’s questions about what we’re doing yet and we sound like idiots every time we’re asked.

I was just at worship practice last night helping play piano so the new singers, who took our spots on the team we’ve been singing with for over 10 years, could practice the songs for the first Sunday that it becomes their team. It brought up a lot of feelings in me, like sadness, grief, maybe even some ugly ones like jealously, and certainly questions for God.

The kids and teachers all went back to school last week, and I didn’t. God allowed me to be laid off in the spring, and I was so happy at the time, because I was convinced we were supposed to move this fall. Faith was winning at that time, but it’s not in this moment anymore, as I watch everyone else, all my colleagues and teacher friends, plan bulletin boards and lesson plans, set up classrooms, and as I hear them share about their students. I can’t help but feel like I’m missing out.

We still have that damn Beamer too. Yeah, I’m mad about it. It’s so fun to drive, but what would be more fun is selling it for a half decent price and being able to pay off the remainder of our debt. I did the right thing; when we considered trading the truck for it in the spring, I went with my husband’s gut instead of my own, and I was proud of that. He believed that it would sell quicker and for more than the truck would. We prayed that we wouldn’t make the wrong decision. Honestly though, I’ve questioned that decision since the day it was made. I feel guilty for doubting God, and Greg, but I don’t talk about that, or let myself dwell on it. What good would that do? We can’t go back in time and see what would have happened if we’d stuck with the truck.

We’ve given things up. And the holes of those things are starting to feel big and noticeable in my life. And I feel like we haven’t gotten a return on what we’ve given up yet. If we weren’t supposed to go, then why did God let us get rid of the truck for this car we don’t need and can’t sell? And why did He allow my job at a great school to come to an end? And why did He let us remove ourselves from a ministry that we’ve been part of for so long, that we’re good at?

In the spring, at school staff devotions one morning, we discussed faith. A colleague shared how having faith is kind of like a bicycle. There are two wheels: faith and doubt. She said to imagine a balance of both wheels always turning on our bicycle of life, because faith can’t actually exist without doubt. If there were nothing to doubt in this life, we essentially wouldn’t need faith. Our doubts drive our need to dig down and find our faith.

This principle has stuck with me all summer, as I’ve been riding the faith/doubt bicycle for months now. The whole time we were planning this move, I had so much faith. I didn’t doubt. I know that sounds crazy, but it was easy to know that we were supposed to move for years. God made it so clear, so often, over and over and over. A calendar that turned up out of the blue with Italy on it (cause we thought that was the plan), or a road sign, or something someone would say to us without knowing, all pointed us in the right direction. When we wanted to live in the camper last year as a test run, He brought us amazing renters within three weeks of us posting the house, regardless of the saturated rental market and our short term of availability. Even though the world seemed to be against us, and our family members were angry, and our friends told us horror story after horror story of renters destroying homes, I lost not one wink of sleep over the house, because I knew we were in God’s will. I knew it to my core, and I knew He was preparing us for this move. To live in a small space. To live without things. To be flexible. To trust Him.

He has proven Himself in the past, so why do I continue to doubt Him now? I don’t know. The struggle is real! The doubt wheel is definitely leading my bike at some point in each day during this season, sometimes each hour, and I have to fight and dig deep to turn it around.

I read a devotional last week about wine that was so beautiful it made me cry. I felt like it was just for me, seeing as it was wine, and God knows that topic gets my attention! The premise of it was that in seasons of waiting and not knowing, God is pressing us, like grapes need to be pressed and crushed in order to make wine. Then they sit and they mature and it’s a process that has to happen in order for the wine to be any good, to be ready. God also has to do this with us sometimes. We have to be crushed a bit, or a lot, and we have to wait for the time to pass until we are mature and ready for what’s about to come. And one day, it will come.

Maybe it’s not what we think it is. Maybe God’s leading us through all of this for some other purpose than to move. That’s hard, because that’s been our dream for so long now. Another devotional I read said that we have to live in a tension between knowing that God may not allow our dreams to happen, but trusting that He put them in our hearts. We have to hold our dreams with loose hands and trust that God is faithful to do what is ultimately the best for us. I’ve had dreams in my past that if He’d given me, I’d have never left Saskatoon; now I’m thankful He didn’t give me those things because I have this new dream of moving! So why do I let doubt win in convincing me that this time is any different? Why do I even question that God has my best interests at heart this time? He can see the whole picture of my life and I can’t. The struggle is real!

During this wine pressing season, this season of waiting and fighting to keep the faith wheel leading my faith/doubt bicycle, I heard a sermon by Andy Stanley, called “In the Meantime.” He spoke of how some of the greatest things we do and the most influential times we can have, are in the meantime. When we’re stuck. When we’re waiting. When we’re doubting and struggling and searching and digging. Paul wrote some of the books of the Bible while he was in prison, waiting in the meantime. That inspired me to at least start writing during this time. I’ve been writing a lot and I started my blog up seriously, but I haven’t written about this. It’s too real, I’m too vulnerable, and I don’t know how any of it is going to turn out in the end. I’m no Paul, and this article is certainly nothing close to the Bible, but I have to write. Maybe one day, something good can come of this meantime I’m in. The struggle is so real.

So there you have it; that was raw and real, in the middle of the night, genuine Chelsea struggle. If you’ve read my other posts on our life in New Zealand, you’ll know we moved here and how it’s turned out so far. Amazing, isn’t it?

I’ve learned through my waiting, that there will always be something we’re waiting for. Waiting can be positive, in that it makes us appreciate what we’re waiting for so much more when we finally receive it. It can lead to anticipation and excitement; however, it can also lead to uncertainty and doubt. Without waiting though, we’d have everything we want right now, and wouldn’t be stretched to grow into better, stronger people of faith. Without waiting, we wouldn’t need trust.

There are still things I’m waiting for. The Beamer still hasn’t sold, and we still have money tied up in that. We have no idea how long we’ll be in New Zealand, or where we’re supposed to go in life from here. We’ll be waiting daily for something for the rest of our lives here on earth. Sometimes it’s hard, and it’s going to be hard again in the future; of that I’m sure. I’ll need to re-read this post, and pray for reminders of what God can do; because He will do it, at the right time… after we’ve practiced waiting. I pray that you, reader, find strength and hope while you wait, and that the wait leads to greatness in your life.

Summer Yoga Experiment – Week Four

After four weeks of Yoga, I agree that there is a physical, mental, and spiritual component to the practice.  In my first Yoga blog, I focused a lot on the physical, and somewhat on the mental; I’ve concluded that Yoga has great physical benefits for me, and some mental benefits.  As I have continued practicing Yoga, writing about it and participating in discussions that have come from my blog posts, I can’t deny that the spiritual aspect of Yoga is a large part of it, or at least, its roots.  The spiritual aspect is largely what I’ll be addressing in this final post.  I was able to get some spiritual benefits from my practice; however, I don’t believe the spiritual benefits were something that I could only get in Yoga.  I believe they resulted from personal intentions of what I chose to focus on for a dedicated amount of time in a quiet space, something I could do (and have done) in other environments as well.

“Yoga is not synonymous with Hinduism…True Yoga neither competes with nor precludes any other religion.  You may use your Yoga – your disciplined practices of sacred union – to get closer to Krishna, Jesus, Muhammad, Buddha, or Yahweh…The Yogic path is about disentangling the built-in glitches of the human condition, which I’m going to over-simply define here as the heartbreaking inability to sustain contentment” (Gilbert, Elizabeth – Eat Pray Love – p.122).

You may not believe the Bible, but I do, and there are some verses that I love in there that support contentment and discipline. Here’s one:

Romans 12:2a “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

Some might use this verse to suggest a Christian shouldn’t go to Yoga.  I’m proposing the opposite; if Yoga helps someone break away from discontentedness and other “built-in glitches of the human condition” because we are so distracted with our lives, then it could be helping us focus on things that actually matter, and it could be used to renew our minds.

I completed my final week in my Yoga experiment with another evening class of Hot Yoga, with my husband in attendance, and a fourth new teacher.  Guess what?  She was different than all the others.  She had her own style, and there were things I liked about her style (lots of movement through a variety of poses, gentle instruction), and things I didn’t (lack of specific tips on postures, and I don’t think Yoga is the place for repeated silly jokes).  I was pretty comfortable during this class, and finally felt that I knew what lots of the poses were, and how to get my body into them.  I had learned my range for several stretches, and knew when I needed a block for assistance.  I noticed I was way better at paying attention to my breath, and actually taking deep belly breaths without having to consciously remind myself as often.  I was prepared with a verse mantra again, and was able to relax my mind and body, and focus on it with intention during the last 10 minutes of the class.

Whether or not you believe in the Bible, you may believe that Jesus existed; regardless of who you think Jesus is or was, historically, he was a rule-breaker for the sake of loving people.  He spent time with everyone that religion said he shouldn’t, did things that religion told him were wrong, and didn’t care what the religious leaders thought of him.  He was representing the Father – love.  I’m not saying that this means everything is okay all of the time.  The point I’m trying to make is that just because there’s a religious rule saying something is evil, doesn’t necessarily mean it is.

I’m not Catholic, but my aunt is, and after reading my previous posts, she dropped off some information for me titled, “A Catholic Perspective on Yoga,” by Terry Donahue (2011).  Although I’m not Catholic, I enjoyed the article, and picked up on some key points Donahue makes.

“The problem with Yoga, and what must be rejected by a Catholic, are the spiritual beliefs… of Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism that are incompatible with the Catholic faith…Practicing Yoga in order to reach self-fulfillment or spiritual enlightenment is to be rejected since it is contrary to the Catholic teaching that such fulfillment and enlightenment are found in Jesus Christ.”  He also explains that Catholics should not mistake all feelings of physical relaxation as mystical experiences, but that relaxation techniques can be appropriate in order to be at peace, less distracted, and able to communicate with God.  “Furthermore, there is nothing intrinsically evil about any particular body pose or stretch used for the purposes of flexibility, exercise, or physical therapy.”  He finishes the article with the stance that “Catholics should not participate in the spiritual practices of Yoga,” but that Catholics “could learn Yoga poses and stretches from a teacher who does not teach or promote Yoga’s erroneous spiritual and philosophical beliefs.”  For him, it’s the teachers that matter, and what they’re promoting spiritually, not the physical and mental practices of Yoga itself.

I believe in God, the Father, and I believe He created the world, and everything in it; yes, I’m saying that I believe God created meditation, stretching, focus, and many other parts of Yoga. (I wonder what backlash will come of that statement?)

People may have given it a name, but God gave us the ability to sit in stillness, focus our minds, calm ourselves through deep breathing, relax through stretching our muscles, and to set disciplines of gratitude.  I also believe He can meet us in the quiet darkness of a Yoga room, just as much as He can meet us in a church, or in nature, or…anywhere?  As my Yoga experiment culminates after four short weeks, I feel confident that the practice of Yoga can be used, like most practices and habits in this world, for good or evil, depending on the intentions and goals of the teacher and participant.   

My position on this is humble, and stands to be corrected if further information presents itself on this topic.  Right now, this is my opinion on Yoga, but I’m open to learning something new, and I don’t like to be closed minded or set in my ways.  I realize that I possess an extremely limited knowledge of Yoga, and that I’m addressing a controversial school of thought within my circle of church-goers, and to be completely honest, even within my own family.

I’m not trying to persuade you into doing anything that makes you uncomfortable; I believe that each person needs to follow his or her own conscience.  I’m presenting what I’ve learned, and what my mind has been opened to during my short experiment, and I’m fighting for more love, and less judgment, in Christian circles on whatever religious rules each person decides are the “right ones” to follow. Just because Yoga/alcohol/(insert taboo Christian topic here) makes one person spiritually uncomfortable, doesn’t mean it should be a write-off for everyone.

I’m also presenting this opinion with my own religious affiliation, and I respect that it may not be yours; however, I’ve learned that unity of people, despite their backgrounds and beliefs, is one of the great things about Yoga. There is so much hate, judgement and division in this world, and I know a lot of people that don’t feel unity in churches.  You and I could be side by side in the same Yoga class, and we could each experience our own physical, mental and spiritual benefits.  You could set your own intentions, and I could set mine, yet we could be unified with each other for 75 minutes, present in the moment we’re experiencing together, regardless of what individual unions that moment held for each of us.  It’s one more way to be a part of a community.

Will I attend Yoga every week now?  No, I probably won’t.  Has my perspective on it changed?  I’d say so.  I believe I’ve found one more tool that I can use in my life for various benefits.  I will go back, when I need a bit of help relaxing, stretching or focusing on a particular something.  I’ve learned a lot, and I’ve learned there’s even more that I still have to learn – and that’s a great thing.

Namaste.

Summer Yoga Experiment – Week Three

For my third Yoga class of this experiment, I decided to change a few things.  I tried an evening class, it was Hot Yoga, and my husband came with me.  I also came across some Yoga history in a novel that inspired me to look at it differently, as you’ll read below.

Again, it was a new instructor, but I know this instructor from staff parties, as I instruct my own classes at the same gym.  It added a certain comfort level being under the instruction of someone I already knew.  She was early and prepared, she started the class off with moments of readiness and preparation, and focused our minds on loving ourselves and others.  She reminded us to be grateful for our bodies, our hearts, and life itself.  She was detailed in her instructions, and gracious in the areas we needed growth.  Her class was also the most physically challenging one I’ve attended this month, with many strength and balance poses that the other two didn’t include; fine this time, but I wouldn’t always want that.

I’m learning that it’s important to find out what I want from a Yoga class, and then choose a time of day, level and instructor that delivers what it is that I need in that season.  There’s a time for everything.

Coming into an evening class felt okay for me, because I’m not a morning person.  I was more alert and had spent more time preparing for my experience.  I had picked a Bible verse I’d come across recently that applies well to my current life space, and I was ready to use it as a mantra.  I was also using this class to help wind down at the end of a day, rather than rolling out of bed into it, another plus for this time.

It was over 30 degrees Celsius in my city at the time, and we don’t have air conditioning in our house.  I had concerns about how Hot Yoga would affect my already over-heated body, so I consumed extra water before going (something I wouldn’t have done well before a morning class). As it turns out, when you walk from 30 degrees into 34 degrees, it doesn’t really feel that different; however, I noticed immediately how much further I was able to stretch into my downward dogs and forward folds, simply from the added heat in the room. I was actually cold when I left the room, which was just what I needed to feel!

Having my husband there was great.  He attends my fitness classes often, lifts with me, or we run together.  I’m comfortable exercising with him in many capacities, so I was aware of him, but he didn’t distract from my focus.  He’s a bit more experienced with Yoga than I am, so I looked forward to discussing the class afterwards with him.  His main observation was that he appreciates the time to slow down and actually focus on breathing.  The average person breathes in and out more than 20,000 times per day, and breathing is an essential life function, but we don’t stop and think about it unless we make the effort to focus on our own bodies and be grateful for a few moments.

I recently read Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, because in the first third of the book, she relays her experiences of life in Italy, a place I hope to move to.  The next two thirds of the book cover her experiences in India and Bali, and I wasn’t planning to read them, but I noticed that the introduction to the India section was about meditation and Yoga, and seeing as how I was right in the middle of my summer Yoga experiment, it captured my attention.  Here’s what jumped off the pages at me.

“Why do we practice Yoga?… Is it so we can become a little bendier than our neighbors?  Or is there perhaps some higher purpose?  Yoga, in Sanskrit, can be translated as ‘union.’ It originally comes from the root word yuj, which means ‘to yoke,’ to attach yourself to a task at hand with ox-like discipline.  And the task at hand in Yoga is to find union between mind and body, between the individual and her God, between our thoughts and the source of our thoughts, between teacher and student, and even between ourselves and our sometimes hard-to-bend neighbours… The ancients developed these physical stretches not for personal fitness, but to loosen up their muscles and minds in order to prepare them for meditation” (p.121).

I love that “Yoga” essentially means “union.”  Sure, it can be a simple physical exercise, surface level stretching, if that’s what you are comfortable with.  But, it can be an opportunity to experience union with other people, or with soul, spirit and body, or with my God, if I set that intention, and I love that.  In the business of this life, this North American culture, and this crazy mind of mine that insists on fighting rest at any cost… it’s a gift.

1 Corinthians 1:10 “I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought.”

I also love that it encourages one “to yoke” to something, and attach to it with ox-like discipline.

Matthew 11:28 “Then Jesus said, ‘Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you.  Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls.’”

Sometimes, I feel weary, like I am carrying a heavy burden, and I want rest for my soul from a humble, gentle God.  There are many ways I can seek His rest, and I would argue that Yoga can be one of them, if I’m setting that intention – to take His humble, gentle yoke upon me and let myself be taught.

“Yoga is about self-mastery and the dedicated effort to haul your attention away from your endless brooding over the past and your nonstop worrying about the future so that you can seek, instead, a place of eternal presence from which you may regard yourself and your surroundings with poise” (Gilbert, p.122).

Phillipians 4:8 “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.” 

Exactly.

Needless to say, after reading all of this, I entered my third Yoga class with a fresh perspective.

“Take my yoke upon you…you will find rest for your souls.”

Does Yoga have to be spiritual?  No.  It can be purely fitness related.  You can walk into that room and let your mind wander through all your to-do lists, and everything you’re worried about, and you can watch the clock and just stretch.  If that’s what you need, then do that.  If you’re not into the Bible like me, you can choose a different focus, any mantra you like, and make it a positive or relaxing experience, where you practice gratitude, or learn to focus your mind a little more.  Or you can use it to connect with yourself, a friend, or God.  I have done all three now.

Yoga keeps surprising me. There is one week left in my summer Yoga experiment, and I’m curious to see what it will bring.

Namaste.