This past Monday evening, after returning from a full day of school and basketball practice, I planned to continue my own exercise routine at home before eating dinner with the community. Like clockwork, just as I began my evening workout, our lovely neighborhood children began banging (no, really. not knocking- banging) on our gate. Either a reserve of endorphins from basketball practice or God’s hand was responsible for my generous and patient response to the gate. I calmly explained that we can’t play right now because we’re cooking and exercising. Case closed. Goodbye. See you tomorrow, when you will surely return and try again.
Surprisingly, and to my dismay- my calm, but somewhat curt response did not deter them . . .
Their response: “Can we exercise with you, teacha?”
My intentionally delayed response: “Are you sure you really want to? We can’t play around.”
Their immediate and enthusiastic response: “YES, YES, teacher! We want to do exercises with you.”
So, intrigued and incredulous about where this could lead, I welcomed them to the porch where I continued with my routine. I figured I would start with a challenging exercise so maybe they’d want to go home early. Of course, my attempt to discourage and tire them out also failed. In fact, it had the exactly opposite effect. They loved it. They laughed, counted together and cheered the whole time. “Another, teacher! Another!”
We did jumping jacks and high knees, lunges and downward dogs; we took turns counting in English and Kiswahili. When I finally gave into their joy and gave up trying to keep my ‘me’ time just for me, I realized that I was having way more fun meowing for paka pose and mooing for ng’ombe pose than I have ever had inhaling for cat pose and exhaling for cow alone in my room. We all had a blast, and, in truth, I probably got a better and longer workout from all of the laughing and the joy distracting me from my tired body. I finally understood what the yoga instructors mean when they say, “have fun with your practice!” Making animal noises and helping some chubby kids find their way into warrior pose was definitely more fun than my calm, solitary practice.
I am now certain that God was in that moment reminding me, yet again, to let go of my plans and make room for joy.
“The simple life is one in which there is always time to remember the divine purpose behind each of our tasks, time to listen for a possible divine amendment to the day’s schedule, and time to be thankful for the divine presence at each moment of the day.”
(from Plain Living: A Quaker Path to Simplicity by Catherine Whitmire)
