What About Yoga?
As a kid, we went to church to meet God every time the doors were open. I loved the church, and I still do. But the gift of my 31st birthday - a stroke and impending brain surgery - changed my life and how I met God. I found the gift of yoga - a gift I never knew I had been seeking. Yoga helped me learn to quiet my mind and discover God as close as my breath. And while yoga as a practice was not easy for me to discover, I am so glad it found me.
My 31st birthday, in December of 2005, should have been celebrated uneventfully - simply at home with my spouse and our 22-month-old son. Instead, it included an MRI scan of my brain after I woke up that morning partially paralyzed from a stroke. Next, a whirlwind of tests took place before scheduling me for surgery and preparing my husband, myself, and my parents for the worst of outcomes. According to the scans, there was a mass, at the base of my brain—one they expected to be cancerous.
As if delivering the gift I did not know I needed, it was during one of those scans that I began practicing breath prayer. I had no idea where the prayer came from or how I had learned about breath prayer, but it met me at a vital time.
God whispered to me and invited me to pray.
I inhaled: Jesus.
And I exhaled: Give me peace.
Over and over again. For hours, I prayed that prayer, and Jesus did give me peace that day. A peace that passes understanding. A peace that carried me through the unknown and all the decisions that would lie ahead.
God’s voice can be majestic no matter the volume, yet we must be willing to listen. During one of the loudest and most stressful and chaotic moments of my life, I heard the clearest whisper of a prayer and offered it back to God as a request. God’s whisper was not audible, but there was no mistaking God’s voice that day. I often wonder if I heard so clearly that day because I was in crisis or because there were no other distractions. There was no escaping the small space where I lay or the very loud noise of the MRI machine. Thankfully, God’s whisper was clear and offered a prayer I have clung to for years since.
Surgery was scheduled rapidly, but not before my body began having seizures. After the surgeons removed the mass, a roller coaster of emotions greeted us as we heard some unexpected and joyful news: there was no cancer. There was, however, a long road ahead of healing. This career mom who juggled a full-time job, home life, and community volunteering was halted in her tracks. And amid the surprises that followed my discharge from the rehabilitation unit came anxiety and chronic pain.
Quickly, I became diligent at caring for my body in new ways. There were new foods, supplements, and routines. And prayers, there were lots of prayers! If there was a suggestion made for how I might feel better, I looked into it and gave it a try. But little was helping my anxiety after the surgery, and life felt overwhelming.
Attending church became hard as it heightened my anxiety, so we found smaller services or TV preachers to glean from. I missed my church. I missed meeting God in worship.
One day during a doctor’s visit, my physician listened to my woes about my anxiety and chronic pain. And as if he were at the end of his idea list (I had tried it all), he paused and said, “What about yoga?”
Yoga? This question was surely an afterthought. He sent me to a physiatrist - a physical medicine and rehabilitation specialist. She evaluated me, offered a basic sequence, then recommended I contact a yoga instructor to help me with both movement and meditation on an ongoing basis. All I could think was, “What about yoga, really?
Indeed, this was a crazy idea for a recovery plan. How could breathing and being quiet, and stretching heal this extrovert’s anxious mind and help calm the pain in my body? Because I was miserable and willing to try anything, I called a local yoga instructor, Leighanne, whom I had met previously. She taught a class I had taken in a gym once. I knew enough to trust her and “try” to see if yoga could help me (with an eye roll). I knew she used scripture in her classes, and I liked that experience. Maybe it was worth my time to try this thing called yoga.
With a bad attitude and little hope, I met her for my first session. I told her my feet hurt and I would not take off my shoes. She told me that was fine, so we began from there. I cannot imagine what would have happened if I had not called her or if she had told me I was being too stubborn (I was). I am grateful for her patience and the practice that helped my body find its way. Today, I can call Leighanne my friend and teacher, and I’m grateful she shared yoga with me.
So, what about yoga?
The gift of yoga helped me connect with my body and spirit again post-trauma. Yoga helped me meet my Creator in an accessible way when the way I knew before was not working.
I love to go to church again (thankfully, no more of those panic attacks, which I credit largely thanks to meditation) but I’ve also learned how to meet God anywhere thanks to the gift of contemplation - whether on my yoga mat, in meditation, with my Bible in my lap, in a pew, or under a tree in nature. Yoga, as a practice, taught me how to meet God anywhere. It even led me to train as a spiritual director and a yoga teacher.
Many years later, that breath prayer has become one I turn to often. It became transformational not only for my life but also in my calling. Now this is my work. I lead others to listen with their bodies through the ancient practices of yoga and spiritual direction every day - sometimes on a yoga mat, sometimes in my writings, sometimes on my podcast, sometimes on zoom, sometimes at a retreat, sometimes from a pulpit.
“What about yoga?” Well, that question changed my life.
And, thankfully, my body and my spirit are more integrated. For my birthday, I may have experienced a traumatic health crisis, but in the end, I was given the practice of yoga and, ultimately - the gift of peace that only Jesus gives.
To learn more about how Whitney incorporates breath prayer, visit her podcast here.
Featured image by Max van den Oetelaar @maxvdo via Unsplash
