When It Is Finally Your Time

For years, I told myself, “Someday.” 

Someday, I’ll do that 200-hour yoga teacher training.

Someday, I’ll have the time and space to invest in myself again. Someday, I’ll be more than just the caretaker, planner, and giver. But as any mother knows, someday can feel like a moving target, always just beyond reach. There’s always another nap to coordinate, another snack to make, another phase to survive.

And yet, after years of waiting, the door finally opened.

Every weekend for three months, my husband takes the kids while I head off to my training, twelve full hours each day immersed in yoga, philosophy, anatomy, and something deeper: remembering myself. It’s exhausting, yes. But it’s also holy. There’s something sacred about showing up for yourself after years of pouring out for everyone else. It’s like reclaiming a part of your identity that motherhood may have gently tucked away, not lost, but waiting.

It reminds me of Ecclesiastes 3:1:

“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.”

There are seasons of giving, nurturing, and tending, and there are seasons of becoming again. Both are part of the divine rhythm. For me, this training isn’t just about yoga poses or breath work. It’s about remembering that I, too, am allowed to grow. That investing in myself isn’t selfish, it’s stewardship.

Luke 5:16 also reminds me:

“But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed”

Even He, the ultimate giver, knew the importance of retreating to refill. That truth hits differently when you’re a mom who hasn’t had a full day to herself in years. Each Saturday morning, I roll up my mat, pack my snacks, kiss my kids goodbye (if they are awake, which my children usually are by 6:30 A.M.), drive 45 minutes to Dallas, spend 10 hours in training, and drive 45 minutes back home. There’s guilt sometimes, of course there is. But there’s also deep gratitude. Gratitude for a husband who holds space for me to do this, for little faces that cheer, “Have a good yoga, Mama!” and for the whisper of the Spirit reminding me: “This, too, is sacred work.”

Because yes, mothering is holy ground. But so is becoming.

And maybe that’s the lesson this season is teaching me, that both can coexist. That our children need to see us come alive again, to see us learning, stretching, becoming who God made us to be, not just for them, but for ourselves. When they see us prioritize our growth, they learn that becoming never ends, and that motherhood doesn’t erase who we are; it expands us.

So if you’ve been putting something off, a dream, a calling, a desire that keeps tugging at your heart then maybe this is your reminder: Your time will come.

And when it does, step into it fully.

No guilt.

No hesitation.

Just grace.

Because there is a time for everything under heaven, and this time, it’s yours.