I am walking to a more trustful place. A place where I don’t have to have it all planned out, don’t have to try so hard, don’t have to work on it so much. A place where life is easier because I trust that, in each moment, I will have what I need in that moment. Not what I need five minutes from now, but what I need now.

Trusting that, when I need guidance on something, like why Joseph is eating tissues (called PICA – the eating of non-foods – common in autism), I will get an answer. Maybe not the whole answer but definitely a first step, a direction – like calling our old naturopath, who’s moved out of town but who can possibly work with us long-distance or steer us to another doctor.

How do I know it’s right to reach out to the naturopath? Because after I did it, I felt sooo happy inside. Like those heavenly helpers who hover around sent a message of confirmation: Way to go, Yoga Mother. Thanks for listening!

If, indeed, I am so supported by the Universe, then it is a given that so is everyone else. This includes my friend’s grown son serving time for murder, and another friend who just crashed into a tree and has 16 broken ribs, and my father who recently died of Alzheimers — and of course, Joseph, who has autism.

Held, supported, loved, looked-after Joseph.

What if we could see them, these angels, these helpers. What if we could trust our hearts, which feel them when they’re open enough. What if we listened to those little whispers of love, of guidance, and felt their truth all the way to the core of our beings.

This is the way I’m walking.

To me, being present is acknowledging how much of life is beyond our senses. It’s getting a glimpse of how much more is going on than our minds can understand. It’s being open, listening, and trusting in all of that.

The path ain’t always gonna be pretty. The kid I expected – the one who was precocious and clever and talented and communicative – that one didn’t turn out to be my kid. The more I rue the past and rant and rage against what is, the more miserable I make myself. Really? Am I being clever and talented myself?

Done with that in this moment. Joseph is a gift. It all is, but Joseph’s the one with the huge bow on top.

This is the way I’m walking. A bit on the outside looking in still, but trying out a step or two and liking the way it feels.

Liking the way I feel when I turn more to God – turn it over to God. Liking the person I’m becoming when it’s less of me and more of God.

It can only happen in this moment. It can’t happen five minutes from now because that’s not where I am.  So here I am, present to the Presence, and filled to overflowing.