Live Slowly

I’m here to walk this path with you, showing you what I’ve both learned and then unlearned. Helping you—so you don’t have to repeat my mistakes.

My story is important not because it is mine, God knows,
but because if I tell it anything like right, the chances are
you will recognize that in many ways it is also yours

One would try to pull me into the land of hurry—of never enough and the fear of missing out, focused on striving, people pleasing to fit in

analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.”

Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last

Mary Oliver were here, she would most likely say: “Tell me what it is you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.” It’s a lot to ponder.

the way, although most poisonous spider bites produce awful scars, I don’t have one—and cannot even recall now which foot was bitten.
Not every hard experience leaves a scar.

Through various seasons of having to slow down, to not be in control, and to move at a slower pace, the only thing that helped me see rest as a true gift was coming to a place of acceptance.
Often we cannot see what God is doing at the moment; we must trust. This posture of acceptance gave me the ability to have open hands. I started to slowly unpack the gift of rest and waiting that was often disguised as suffering.

But your story isn’t finished being written yet. And that in itself is a beautiful thing to hold on to. A good word that I come back to often comes from Bob Goff. He says: “Embrace uncertainty. Some of the most beautiful chapters in our lives won’t have a title until much later.”

Pastor Kenny’s Advent invitation that Sunday was a balm in a busy season as he offered these thoughts:
Words are very important to God. Do not be afraid. Give God the recognition of