I Am Not Yet Done Becoming


Holly Grantham -The Becoming6

I’ve always been one to relish the flipping of the calendar page at the start of each new year. I like beginnings and clean edges and wide open spaces. I like the opportunity to begin again. This year has been no different.

Except that it has.

I’m coming off a year that, if I’m completely honest, aged me.

Parenting and homeschooling children in very different life stages has required a substantive creativity and an expansive grace that, too often, I did not have. Some days blazed bright, surely. But other days that bloomed with promise, ultimately found us collapsing in upon one another.

I am still deep in the process of deconstructing a faith that defined and shaped me for the last 25 years. Although all is not lost, I did spend a great deal of last year sitting with more questions than answers. I have never liked not having answers. Sitting with unknowns feels like a deep rattling that echoes in my bones.

I also walked a fiery path last summer that was both necessary and confusing. Perhaps it was my version of a midlife crisis, for I certainly found myself looking for new ways of being. I dyed my hair blue. I got a tattoo. And I kept reaching for things that were not mine to have. Most days, I kept looking for the exit because I just wanted to run. It strained relationships to the point of near breaking and I cried a new wrinkle into being, just below my left eye.

Last year aged me.

So, with this year’s arrival, I felt the need to move into spaces that allowed for deeper breathing and opportunities to quench my fervid heart.

I have found that in yoga.

I am showing up, every day, and I am doing the work.

I am sore and spent from the demands that holding a balance pose puts on my muscles and ligaments and the very soles of my feet. I have been frustrated at my lack of flexibility and the ways that my body seems hell bent on staying a course that is out of line and in need of correction.

But I am doing the work.

The practice of yoga is just that, a practice. So, I am slowly learning the poses and I am developing a flow and my body is slowly, slowly responding. I may not be able to stop the passing of years or their inevitable mark on my skin, but I am embracing the days with a new fierceness. I am pushing myself into a new strength.

Last year taught me that I am not yet done becoming. I’m not content to settle into fixed shapes or colors. I am moldable. There is ruby-fired blood coursing through my body. And I am strong.

So, I’m just going to keep showing up on my mat, be present and do the work. I’m going to practice new shapes and new postures and I am going to continue to find new strength. And perhaps that voice, the one that has felt shaky in the wake of a hard year, will finally be unleashed.

Perhaps it is actually a roar.

Holly Grantham
Holly is a wife, very relaxed homeschooling mom of three boys, snapper of photos, coming of age writer and a soul drowning in grace. After years in Atlanta where she attended college, married the love of her life and lived in an intentional community, she found her way back to her home state of Missouri. She now lives in an antebellum stone house, raises chickens (sometimes) and pretends that she lives in the country.
Holly Grantham

Latest posts by Holly Grantham (see all)

Holly Grantham


  1. I run and do yoga. I love them and do them because it makes me feel strong. In a world that breaks my heart, and especially in living overseas and working with vulnerable people, I desperately need something to help me feel strong when so much makes me feel tired and weak. These are great words! Thanks for sharing.

  2. “I am pushing myself into a new strength.” Holly, there is nothing short of a roar in that gorgeous line, that determination. The word that came to mind as I read was ‘magnificence’ – I have no doubt that your constant becoming is a magnificent thing for those around you to behold. Thank you for sharing – and emboldening us with – your words.

  3. I love that life is changing. That we can choose new directions and interests. Begin again or let go of what is not working.

  4. Amy Hunt says:

    The deconstructing . . . oh, the deconstructing! Of what we defined as purpose. Of what we defined as “right” and “good”. Of who we thought we should be. Of who we thought we want to be. Of who we think everyone else ought to be. Of how we think life should be. Oh, the deconstructing. The opening up. The giving way to more spaciousness. The guteral roar, as in childbirth. The stretching. The pulling. The death in becoming. Oh, giving way to more life . . . to lightness . . . to freedom . . . to simply, life as it is. Hugs, dear friend.

    • In my yoga practice, just this morning, the instructor said the following, “sometimes, it is in the letting go that we find our strength.”
      That statement will not let me go.
      I believe you already know this.

  5. Oh, I hear you — sometimes homeschooling feels like a mummy-sized straight jacket. The routine, the repetition, the daily discipline can feel suffocating, even if you try to keep it light, and the older kids get the more “Important” school has to be and the harder it is to make it “Fun.” My daily walks do for me what I think your yoga is doing for you — a stretching, breathing, “I-am-NOT-a-machine” time.

    I’m willing to bet that your roar will — somehow — sound like poetry.

    • That stretching…that breathing…it is so very necessary.
      And, oh, how I hope that my roar will be laced with poetry.
      Thank you for hearing me.

  6. Bev Murrill says:

    Holly, I’m a good deal older than you, and my year of 2016 has been totally …. tough, but I have come to a similar conclusion. I’m doing strength training and balance (yoga type exercises) and determined to to be strong and stay strong. And… I let my hair go white and now I colour it varying shades of silver/purple.

    Good on you, girl… life continues, doesn’t it, so we may as well continue with it!

    • Bev,
      Your strength in the face of, well…everything, is phenomenal. The way you are choosing to move through your days, despite everything you are enduring, is nothing short of gorgeous. Thank you for being such an incredible example of strength for me and all of the SheLovelies.

Speak Your Mind