grace – Sarah's Table

unnamed (3) I returned from a 26-day visit to my old stomping grounds last Sunday.

If you had to guess what question I keep getting, you’d probably be correct.

“How was your trip?”

If you’d ask me the same thing, I’ll tell you-

It was good.

There was just a lot of richness and life in it, and I’m so grateful I got to do it.

It also challenged me, and I’ll tell you why.

There are two things I didn’t totally expect when I set out to stop trying to solve everything with how I eat and get healthy in my whole self- body, mind, and spirit:

-what a process it is (so much time. This is totally not a quick fix, post-the-before-and-afters pursuit. I am might be walking this road into heaven.)

-that a by product of opening up my mind and my heart to more vibrant health is that I am learning to love people better.

The thing about sharing a house with people outside the normal systems of my every day is that it pushed me to examine the why, how, and what of how I function, because each nuclear family tends to operate differently, so all those things aren’t just “how we do it” anymore. I came face to face with some things that I realized require some change on my part, and it was uncomfortable and absolutely humbling.

I’m so grateful for that.

Because while I love people, loving people up close is more complex. It requires humility, openness, work, and a teachable spirit.

I want to love people better.

You can remind me of that desire anytime this year because I have some news:

We are moving into a small house in the next couple of weeks, with another family. The kitchen, living room, laundry room, mowing duties, and yard are all shared. We all have a willingness to make it work, talk through issues, set appropriate boundaries, and enjoy each other’s company.

I’m excited and a little nervous.

There’s one thing for sure- my holistic table game is about to ramp up.

I’ve been letting go of aaall my food rules. They are unhealthy ways for me to manufacture control over my own life. It’s been one of those “not easy, but worth it” practices. I didn’t realize how often I feel the itch to subscribe to a particular diet until I said no more.

Last week, I showed up to one of my preferred ways to work bad news out of my body, a Barre3 studio class.

I had bad news to work off of my nerves, shoulders, and gut, and I needed to exchange some words with God. Movement is such a helpful tool for me to do those things in an integrated way, so I woke my husband up for my early class (it was that important to me, and he’d already agreed to it- I do have a heart!) and went on my way.

There are some moments when my inability to micromanage every outcome in my life makes itself obvious, and this was one of them.

I headed into class and was met with a “hey, you!!!” Her eyes were bright with recognition, but mine were dull with confusion. I do have something of a familiar face (I get “you look just like my cousin/friend/roommate” with some regularity), and the words, “do we know each other from somewhere?” tumbled out of my mouth, totally lacking any grace or opportunity to leave this woman thinking I remembered her.

After the brightness drained from her face, I discovered I’d met her the day after I’d moved across the country. We both found our equipment and places in class, and I spent much of the next hour processing through this exchange (and only a fraction on my stress over school shootings).

I was so embarrassed over the exchange that had happened just before class, anxious, even. By the end of the class, though, I landed on forgiveness. I forgave myself for making a mistake, and I decided to ask for a little grace and forgiveness from this woman, too. I acknowledged that I couldn’t control the outcome of the conversation and made my peace with it.

All I can do in my life is make the next best choice. I can’t control someone else’s choices. I can’t control every change in my body. I can’t control when my favorite friends move away. I can’t control what my kids think of me. I can’t control whether an active shooter shows up at my son’s school. I can’t make someone else forgive me.

I want to.

For sure.

But making peace with all that helps me put down some of the weight I’ve been carrying and make more room for what I can do.