And then I had children.
And my children take note of the small things because to them they are huge things. They don't walk with a purpose. They enjoy the processes and seem to drag them out even longer than I thought humanly possible. Their pace is one of simplicity, delight and discovery.
When we go on a walk I find myself getting annoyed with the innumerable stops to look at a particular flower or rock or piece of dirt. I feel the angst and tension building inside me. I worry that we're wasting time. I remind them that we need to keep moving ....
Keep moving to where? Why? What's the rush?
Several months ago I came to the realization that I had some serious, deep-rooted changes to make or I would regret it. I was about to miss out on most everything that was crucial and meaningful and vital right now.
Thus began a journey to slow down. Those two words still make me feel a little woozy at times and sometimes I feel that if our walk to the corner takes any longer I'll have to bring camping supplies.
I am here to facilitate peace. I am here to take my time. I am here to encourage and nurture and lead by example. This is a heavy calling, my friends, for someone like me. A calling that has brought me the most fear and the most joy all at the same time.
I'm thankful for a husband and children that have mastered the art of a slow-pace. They have taught me so much in such a short time. I'm learning how to find beauty in the process and learning to let the rest go. Ever so slowly.