I have been waiting and waiting to post about Salt Lake, the last stop on our Yoga for Congo tour this year.

I haven’t had the words to talk about it.

I still don’t.

For lots of reasons, this event was the most painful one I have prepared for in a long time.

Starting over is never easy, and this event was fraught with more than just a new beginning in Salt Lake.

It is all too easy to focus on everything that is going wrong.

But if you do, you miss the things are that so, so right.

Things like my sister who in a little over a week travelled 1,060 miles completely on her own dime, and usually on her own, just to take pictures for me and to help.  (And after all those miles and hundreds of photos snapped, this is the only one we got with her in it, bless her amazing heart.)

Things like old, dear friends who did so much to help me, even though I was exhausted and a little crazy by the time the last event came around.

Things like my little girl, who woke up very early to come to a second event, though she had gone to bed only a few hours earlier, because Shukuru meant so much to her.

And things like Grace.

Grace is the first Congolese person to ever come to an event.  I have invited many people before, and have completely understood when they weren’t up to coming.  But Grace came, and meeting him changed me forever.

When the event was over, I was both eager and afraid to hear what his impressions were.

Our brief conversation is personal, and I will cherish it always.  I don’t think I can actually say how much I needed it.  I feel completely rekindled and renewed.

And I will never, ever give up.

I have seen courage with my own eyes and hope I will never let my own fail me again.

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