I hate it when I’m late to yoga. I whip into the parking lot, locate a spot (hopefully near the door), jump out and jog past the front desk. With the room dark and peaceful, and everyone halfway to their happy place, I tiptoe around bodies to grab a mat, find a spot and start relaxing. And swear that I’ll get there on time, next time.
As class wound down yesterday, the music transitioned into Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring and I was transported back into the past. The year: 1979. My dad is walking me down the aisle of a little Baptist Church and the music is Jesu, the guitar version. It was like I was there again. Strange how music does that.
Anyway, post-yoga I’m drinking coffee at Panera and contemplating the relentless passage of time. I can’t believe it’s really been thirty years since that trip to the altar. Alot of water under the bridge. I’ve moved to a different state, married again, become a mom, and now just this week became Facebook friends with that guitar player from my past. Circle of life stuff, I guess… Continue reading