Have you ever fallen to your knees in gratitude?
Two weeks ago, when our retreat group practiced its last healing flow together at Menla, I experienced something amazing.
As I moved through Urdhva Hastasana, I looked up, and something profound came over me. I couldn’t help but begin to sob.
Rejoicing in the moment, I continued my practice, as my teacher, Erica—in an act of kindness—brought me some tissues.
It was a miracle I was there, after all. The last seven months were spent recovering from major surgery, blood transfusions, and six rounds of chemo. But, I was—in that moment—moving my body, breathing, feeling, growing.
All of the glorious signs of being alive.
Overcome with this gratitude, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of humility.
How do I deserve this?
A similar thing happened to me this morning, when I was praising God and thanking Him for all of the lessons I’ve received on this journey, for being cancer free, for giving me a second chance at life. For all I have to live for.
As I dropped to my knees in tears, a call came in from a number I didn’t recognize. The school where I am hoping to volunteer was calling to set up an interview. As I wiped my eyes and nose, I put the phone down for just a moment. Realizing there are no coincidences…
Lord, I thank you for this offering.
My heart is so very full. I am astounded. I have to, at times, pinch myself to confirm my existence. The gifts I’ve received—the doors that have opened—have been nothing short of miracles.
I knew my life would change after cancer. I just didn’t have any idea.
Namaste.

May the Lord continue to bless you as you praise him.
Thank you both so very much. I am grateful for your continued prayers!
These moments of gratitude are everything. I feel this way at times when I look down at Hannah lying in my arms or when I make her laugh. Knowing the struggle and uncertainty you went through, only to be given this gift in the end. It is an act of Gods grace and favor upon you, like a tattoo that marks you forever and keeps you pure.