Flexibility

Sure, I stretch daily. I practice yoga and do plies on my concrete floor. My daily run is now confined to circles around an old basketball concrete. But, learn to do without toilet paper? Without cheese? Without BROWNIES? God, that’s asking a lot! Exactly what kind of “flexible” are you asking me to be here? I can learn to take cold showers and be the butt of jokes (more than usual at least). Oh, but there is so much more. The flexibility to say an impromptu speech at a meeting or to sing on command, to bide my time in a classroom with non-English speaking boisterous six year olds for two hours, to set aside what I am doing and just listen to someone. The flexibility to give a devotion to 200 girls with seven minutes notice…during a power outage.
How flexible really am I? Flexible enough to care for someone who is sick? To give up my time? My money? My stereotypes? My resentments?
When I think about it, my newfound “flexible lifestyle” is nothing to boast about. What about those who continue to make it with one-meal days, dirty water, or broken families? Maybe I will stretch to my potential and reach out to others more often. Maybe even find the flexibility to break my pride, lower me, and have the boldness to truly love others.