I just got out of yoga, and it was so nice.
One of the things I love about Community Yoga is that it doesn’t matter if I haven’t been there in a week, two weeks, or even a month. Every time I walk back in, there is someone I know. Someone I love. Someone I’m genuinely excited to see.
Today I got Ashley. I got Erica. Patrick was teaching. And then there was Kobe.
Kobe is the dog, and let me tell you—a little bit of Kobe sends my mood to an entirely different level. I see Kobe, and I am immediately elevated times a thousand.
All is well.
I’ve taken care of Kobe before, so we have a real bond. And there is almost nothing better than walking into a room full of people and having an animal see you and absolutely lose it.
MY FRIEND! MY FRIEND! MY FRIEND!
That is what it feels like.
He runs over. I get excited. He gets excited. There is no pretending. No small talk. No wondering whether he really wants to see me.
It is just pure, undeniable love.
For those few minutes, I feel like a million dollars. Actually, I feel like I won the lottery.
And maybe I did.
Because while I was doing yoga today, I started thinking about all the different little families I have in my life.
I have my yoga family.
My AA family.
My actual family-family.
My family of friends.
My book club family.
My gym family.
And there are more.
They’re almost like little constellations surrounding me. Different groups of people connected to different pieces of who I am. Each one gives me something different. Each one teaches me something different. Each one allows me to explore another part of myself.
And these aren’t “yes people.”
They are real people.
They love me, encourage me, challenge me, tell me the truth, make me laugh, teach me things, and sometimes tell me things I don’t particularly want to hear.
That is family, too.
I started thinking that I created all these little families, but then I corrected myself.
I didn’t create them.
God did.
God gave them to me.
I nurtured them.
God gave me the people, the opportunities, the places, and the tools to nurture those relationships. And somehow, over time, I looked around and realized I had communities everywhere.
What a blessing.
Maybe I’m thinking about it more because the holidays are coming.
I am extremely family-oriented. I’m a Cancer, for God’s sake. Give me Christmas tree lights, a fire, warm pajamas, Christmas Eve, people I love nearby, and I am DONE.
That is heaven to me.
And maybe that is also why I can get a little overly sensitive around the holidays.
Because underneath all the shopping and decorating and rushing around, I keep thinking:
Don’t we remember why we’re doing this?
Love.
Family.
Community.
Showing up at someone’s house.
Singing songs.
Eating together.
Making memories.
Bringing joy into each other’s homes.
Being together.
And every year, I get myself into a tiffy over presents.
Who got what?
Did I get enough?
Oh my God, I got her two things and him one thing.
Quick! Order something from Amazon!
I literally cannot do it this year.
I think this Christmas is going to be different.
Maybe I make something.
Maybe I write a card.
Maybe I give somebody something that actually means something.
Maybe I take someone somewhere.
Maybe we go to the Festival of Lights.
Maybe my present is simply:
Let’s spend time together.
Because I don’t want the pressure of presents to distract me from the presence of people.
Especially when I already have so much.
I have all these little families.
These communities.
These constellations of people God has scattered throughout my life.
And today, standing in Community Yoga and seeing familiar faces—and getting loved on by Kobe—I remembered just how rich that makes me.
Good things pass, just like hard things do. I won’t see Kobe every day. I won’t see every friend every week. We move in and out of one another’s lives. We get busy. We disappear for a little while. Then sometimes we walk through a door after a month away and somebody’s face lights up.
And suddenly, we’re home again.
I am so grateful to God.
I am grateful to the angels and the archangels.
I am grateful to the universe for all the blessings I can see, all the blessings I can’t see, and all the blessings I have yet to see.
Most of all, I’m grateful to know that community is alive and well in my life.
I see it in my own life, and I see it in the lives of countless other people.
And that is a really, really good thing.
So love your people.
Nurture your little families.
Show up when you can.
Come back even when you’ve been gone for a while.
And when somebody—or some dog—runs across the room because they’re that damn happy to see you, let yourself feel like you just won the lottery.
Because maybe you did.
Kiss your community.
