Are we there yet? The Gift of Perpetual Practice.

It’s a crisp thirty-four degrees outside. In the car, all toasty and warm, my two-and-a-half-year-old grandson,

buckled in the back seat, sings Jingle Bell Rock. While driving, we point to the Christmas decorations outside, the momma cow with her little calf, the digger, scraping the dirt, prepping for a few new homes to be built in this northern suburb of Atlanta.

“Memaw, are we there yet?”

“Not yet.” I say.

We have plenty of time to make my yoga class. I strategically park on the side of the Forsyth YMCA, next to the front walk, to avoid the parking lot and crossing any streets with my little guy. He knows the routine—usually he runs as fast as he can for the front door.

Not today. Recently transplanted from hot and humid Houston, his feet move uncharacteristically slow. He’s enjoying the chill in the air.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“No, Memaw.” He studies his feet, walking at a snail’s pace as a brisk wind cuts through my hoodie—one I claimed after my youngest daughter discarded it a decade ago. Eventually, we’re inside, and he’s signed into childcare with a sticker attached to the windbreaker he refuses to remove. Note to self: remove the sticker right away before it gets into the wash!

All November, Nita, our yogi, guided us with meditations of gratitude. The habit has finally kicked in. I unravel my mat, dab essential oil onto both wrists, recline into shavasana, and intentionally name the morning’s grateful items: the vivid, blue sky, my grandson’s enthusiasm as he pushed the blue button so the YMCA front door magically opened, and the warm smiles which greeted us once inside.

There’s so much more I’m thankful for and I name these gifts, aware things can change on a dime: health, solid loving relationships, a safe roof over my head, food in my belly.

The lights are now dim, the room heated. Nita opens our practice with soothing music, directing our breath. I once had a yoga instructor say practice makes practice. I think of my grandson’s words, “Are we there yet, Memaw?”

Are we ever?

Today, Nita begins our practice by speaking of gratitude, but it’s a new month and a new meditation, so her words are different. “We’re thankful, and also beginning December. How can we review the past 12 months? Where have we met peace and gratitude? What are we pleased with? What can we change?”

This is not so different from the Ignatian Examen I have done in the past and would certainly benefit from practicing it more. In the Examen, we also name our gifts, acknowledge our actions, and trust we’ve done things right. But we also recognize sometimes we are short in meeting the mark. We need to name those places of improvement, in order to grow.

The coupling of gratitude and review, of acknowledging our gifts and pondering where we can improve, rest in my heart-center as we continue class. We recline into child’s pose, working to remain present. We raise

our hands to the sky then swan dive down to the earth.

The highs, lows, in-between’s all make a day, a month, a year, a lifetime.

“Are we there yet, Memaw?” My grandson asks as we drive home, the air outside now a tropical 38 degrees.

“Not yet. Love, not yet.” I smile at him in the rear-view window.

There’s no hurry.

I need more time to practice.