life feels much too hurried these days. there’s meetings and appointments, deadlines, an actual schedule. i have to set an alarm, and the moment it begins to beep, my eyes fly open and i hit the ground running.

typically i do well with busy; i think it’s because i equate it with productivity. but in this season, busy is not my friend. it wears me out, wears me down. days and then weeks pass me by in what seems to be just one blink, and most days i feel like a robot, a slave to the clock. and i hate it.

because i feel like i’m missing out on something. i am missing out on something, many things, actually:: the gifts of any given moment. i miss because i’m already looking ahead to what comes next.

in liberia, it wasn’t this way. liberia seems to move at a unique pace, at a time all its own. and after a while, my life in liberia meant that i did, too. there was an ebb and flow there, a peculiar ordering of minutes and days, and over time, i adapted it as my own.

and i learned from my years there that you don’t miss out when you choose to slow down. you don’t miss out on rest, on sabbaths spent in a hammock with a good book. you don’t miss out on the way the light streams in through the windows, or how absolutely lovely a cool breeze can feel. you don’t miss out on the delicious way fresh food tastes after it’s been prepared by loving hands. you don’t miss out on the twinkle in a child’s eyes, or the feel of weathered fingers locking with your own, or how vibrant bright cloth looks against sunned skin. you don’t miss out on the hours spent writing your prayers in tattered journals, and you don’t miss out on the unexpectedly beautiful ways those prayers are answered. you don’t miss out, because you’re slow enough to see. breath is what brings life, yet how can i say i’m really living when i’m too tired, too busy that i forget to stop and breathe?

[Photo by Geraint Rowland on Flickr; Creative Commons]

i’ve spent too many days continually on the go and rushing around from place to place, and i’m tired of it. hurried living is no life at all. liberia taught me that life is meant to be rich. savored. full.

tired work never tells, and a hurried life isn’t lived.

so instead, i choose life. full and abundant. sweet and savory. present in every moment. slow, and able to see.

* also:: some soul-full songs for this slow season…
“slow it down” by the lumineers
“lover’s eyes” by mumford and sons
“watch and chain” by iron & wine


2 thoughts on “[slow]

  1. Pingback: SUMMER LOVIN’ | Blooming Where Blown

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