In numerology, 787 begins and ends with 7 - the number of inner truth and returning to self, while 8 represents the weight, endurance, and responsibility of carrying life through hard seasons. For me, 787 became the distance between who I was before single motherhood and emotional turmoil, the woman who survived, carried, lost herself, and finally came home again.

I felt like 2023 me, but different. Like she was still there underneath, and this new me was layered on top, built on her foundation but deeper, wiser.

I walked through the yoga studio doors. I rolled out my mat. I put my hair in a high bun. I warmed up a bit, then made my way to my back with my eyes closed, my left hand on my heart and my right hand on my belly.

I closed my eyes and began my process of focusing on gratitude and my breathing before class began. This ensures no negativity, no anxiety, no worries or stressors can enter this sacred place that is phone free, worry free, stress free. It's one hour for me to be present in all the goodness of my life - my heart, my mind, my able body.

So I begin with flooding my mind with gratitude. A practice I started years ago that has taken time, consistency, dedication and patience. It is now a natural rhythm I flow into as soon as I step into the space, where the rush of warmth from the heated room, peace from the practice I've created, and joy from the gratitude I know is filling my mind all become one. Even after 787 days, this came back to me naturally, a part of me, engrained in my practice.

Thank you Lord for my able body, the time for this practice, my son, my family, my friends, the toes on my feet, the car to get me here, the health to be present.

We begin our practice and I set my physical and mental intentions for the class: Grace and Strength.

Each class I've made it a part of my practice to set one mental intention and one physical intention to come back to when there are moments my mind starts to drift or my body starts to doubt.

I reminded myself to give myself grace as I hadn't practiced but once in the last two years. I was going to hot yoga four or more times a week up until October 19, 2023, when my pregnancy and then launch into single motherhood prevented me from practicing.

There were 787 days between October 19, 2023 and today, December 14, 2025, when I finally got to step back into this space. My practice. My physical and mental peace.

I suppose when you're an ENFJ (Meyers-briggs) you naturally give so much to others that it's important to carve out spaces to fill your own cup. For me that is church and yoga. Two places where I've practiced so deeply on ensuring my mind is present and protected from any and all outside noise or negativity, that no matter what I'm going through, these spaces can't be touched.

They are my heart's home.

Pouring back into my physical health bucket more often than not overflows into my mental health bucket as well. It's a win-win. It took time, intention, dedication and discipline to ensure these places remained continuous peace for my heart and my mind.

The discipline, intention and dedication have paid off.

Today I got to go back to yoga. A home I've missed for 787 days.

And as I began my practice with my intentions in mind, "Grace and Strength", I felt that deep inner peace, joy and freedom fill me. It felt so good. It felt like me, the true me.

The me that had faded over these last 787 days - not disappeared, but became a shadow - I was coming out of the shadows. The girl who was always quick to forgive, over and over. The girl who never harbored bitterness, the girl who always no matter what saw the best in everyone and hoped for the best in everyone. The one who never ever regretted her generosity, who never doubted her kindness. Who lived with grace, love and Christ at the center of her heart and days.

She was in that studio today.

She was no longer a shadow, no longer a faded version of herself. She was back, brighter than before. At peace. Forgiven. She had forgiven herself. Forgiven him. Cleansed of all bitterness, anger, resentment, confusion. Refreshed with peace, light, joy, hope, love.

But here's what I realized as I moved through each pose: she didn't just come back. She came back different.

Those 787 days didn't erase her—they built on her. The pregnancy, the work challenges, the relational hardships, the moments when bitterness crept in despite everything I'd practiced, the anger I had to work through, the grace I had to extend to myself, in all my life buckets, when I couldn't extend it to anyone else—all of that didn't destroy the foundation of who I was.

It added layers.

The 2023 version of me knew grace and strength in theory, in practice, in the everyday flow of giving and forgiving. But this version of me? She knows it in her bones. She's walked through shadows and learned that the light on the other side isn't just a return to what was, it's something brighter, something earned.

I'm not the same person who last stood on this mat in October 2023. I'm better. Deeper.

I still forgive quickly. I still see the best in people. I still lead with love and Christ at my center. But now I also know my own depths. I know what it takes to protect my peace, to forgive myself, to come home to who I really am even after I've lost sight of her for a while.

As I moved through the practice, embracing the graceful flow of my movements while honoring the strength it took just to show up, I understood: this is what grace and strength actually mean.

Not perfection. Not never stumbling.

But showing up again. Layering growth on top of who you've always been. Coming home to yourself, again and again, no matter how long the journey takes.

So I want to ask you:

Do you have a home for your heart? For your mind?

A place you can go—mentally or physically—that is preserved for your peace?

Have you lost a layer of yourself somewhere along the way that you want to fold back into your life? Have you spent too many nights tossing and turning, battling bitterness, confusion, feeling stuck or hurt by something you no longer want to be weighed down by?

Maybe it's the layer that work took away for a moment in time. The layer that got set aside in a season of dry bones. The layer that became thin when your heart was heavy.

Go back to your peace. Find your place where your mind and heart can be intentionally yours. Where they return to something more pure, to their childlike wonder and that twinkle in the eye at the beauty of the world.

Go back there. Be present there. Reset and reroot. Bring that foundational layer back into you. Add it back.

Because here's what I've learned through it all: layers slip away. They harden. They fade.

Corporate jobs that demanded more than they gave. Relationships that took pieces of me I didn't know I was losing. Outside noise from others that made me question what I knew to be true. Pregnancy and postpartum that reshaped not just my body but my entire sense of self. Single motherhood that stretched me thinner than I thought possible.

Each season took something. Or tried to.

But every single time, every time a layer slipped away or hardened, I found my way back to the well of water I never let run dry. My spiritual bucket. The one that pours into all my other life buckets. Church. Yoga. Gratitude. Christ at my center.

And that foundation?

It may shake. It has shaken. But it has never crumbled.

Each time I've come back to it, I've been able to build again. Higher. Stronger. With a better view than before. Not because I'm perfect or because I never lose my way, but because I know where home is. And I know how to find my way back.

So if you've lost a layer, if you feel like a shadow of who you used to be, know this: the foundation is still there. It's waiting for you. And when you come back to it, you won't just rebuild what was lost.

You'll build something better.

787 Days Later - I didn't return to yoga to find myself. I returned because I was finally ready to meet who I had become.

787 days. And I'm finally home.