Like Oxygen!

Arise

On laughter, breath, and learning to be gentle with myself

Laughter.

When everything feels so serious. When everything seems to need auditing, critiquing, fixing. When life turns fast-paced — assignments piling up, and that feeling of being driven, driven, driven.

Some days I can sing and pray and dance my way through it. Other days, the silence is the more comforting thing.

Some nights I sing to my children until they run clean out of song ideas, and I squeeze them tight and tell them how special they are. Other nights I fall asleep exhausted, quietly beating myself up over everything I didn't get done.

Some mornings I manage my own little a cappella beat-box rhythm — clapping, stomping, dancing, my whole "one-mama band" coming at them with that old song about all of us needing somebody to lean on. The kids laugh and cover their faces. Other mornings aren't quite so lovely.

This dance of life.

The greater pain, I've found, comes when we forget to breathe — when we grip too tightly to something that hurts, when we just won't let go.

When my emotions get too heavy or my thoughts too tangled, I've learned to reach for the many gifts God has placed on this earth for our good. I'm not perfect at it. I'm always learning. But I'm so grateful for everything I've been given to help me through this dance.

Essential oils are one of those gifts for me. When I smooth them onto my skin or breathe in their aroma, it can feel as though unseen angels are applauding — telling me I can be braver, stronger, that I can love a little more.

If I have the time, I'll rub coconut oil from the soles of my feet up to my neck, then add a few drops of essential oil here and there. Other days it's just one drop as I head out the door. A little peppermint worked into my scalp — oh, so refreshing. And wild orange… I think that one might be my very favorite; I just love breathing it in.

Seasons come and seasons go, and the way I reach for oils shifts right along with life. At night it makes me smile when my husband comes down and lies beside me, a soft trace of peppermint and eucalyptus drifting over — relaxing and invigorating all at once. (And on a purely practical note, he tends to rest more peacefully with it nearby — a lovely bonus for me.)

I glance at the orchid my husband bought me, and it makes me smile. He's learning. It's maybe the third time he's brought me flowers in our fourteen years of marriage — and true to his practical heart, his gifts are always the living kind that won't wilt in a week. He's beginning to understand how happy flowers make me. (I've learned to buy them for myself now and then, too.)

When things are orderly and clean, I can think clearly. And that's when my thoughts drift back to where I first learned these ideas of self-care and self-acceptance. Thank you, Tiffany, for teaching me to take better care of myself — and to create a little order in my life.

Tiffany Peterson is — well — amazing. A kind of modern-day Mary Poppins for grown-ups. She recently shared two things I've been turning over ever since, and I want to pass them along:


One. She pointed out that the old Hebrew sense of the word creation carries the meaning of organizing. I love that. It means that whenever we're in creation mode — building a life, a project, a piece of art, even dinner — we're really just gathering things into order.

Two. She offered a shift she believes many of us stay stuck without: moving our focus from self-improvement to self-acceptance. Endless improvement, she says, can keep us chasing a horizon of "not quite enough," while acceptance honors us exactly as we are — and from that steadier, kinder place, more good tends to flow. It looks like making your own wellbeing a real priority: your rest, your health, time to pray or journal, joy simply for joy's sake. It looks like being your own best friend and, in her lovely phrase, changing the inner critic into an inner cheerleader. I've carried that one around like a smooth stone in my pocket.

(You can find more of Tiffany Peterson's coaching work online — I'll always be grateful for what she's taught me.)

So, from my heart to yours: please, be kind to yourself. If no one else sees how hard you're trying — God does. You are amazing.

Here's hoping you're taking good care of yourself. And never, ever stop searching for answers. Choose to arise — the word I've made my own quiet motto. The answers you've been looking for just might find you today.

With much love,

Steffanie

A little note: I'm a doTERRA Wellness Advocate, and some links on my blog may be affiliate links — I only ever share what I truly love and use. I'm sharing my own experience here, not medical advice. Statements about essential oils haven't been evaluated by the FDA and aren't meant to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease.