Originally published 1/18/17
I have decided 2017 is the year in which I will slow down time. You may laugh here. I laugh as well when I read that statement. I have made declarative statements before (I will become a brain surgeon. I will play piano at Carnegie Hall. I will write a novel. I will have two kids. I will lose 10 pounds). I'm sure God has appreciated them for their creative and aspirational nature, but they have not come to fruition in any shape or form. In fact, usually the opposite happens. I became a journalist. I play viola with a community orchestra. I write short blogs. I have one kid. I only gain weight. But this, I'm going to do. I'm going to slow down time this year. 2016 was a whirlwind year in which Michael and I actually lived apart for the better part of 6 months. Our business took a hit both on the software and client sides, impacting our team deeply. So, frankly, I'm glad that year is over. Michael and I have reintegrated our lives, and our business is recovering. But the first half of seminary went with 2016, too, and we are preparing to say goodbye to a very singular group of seminarians and their families this spring. Our landscape will change again.
This is one of our favorite landscapes, Hawkins Cove, the view from Memorial Cross. Jackson and I walk out here several times a week.
So as we began this year, Michael and I decided we would "slow down" this year and really live in every moment, languishing in the place and listening carefully for the still, small quiet voice of God. Sounds nice, right? But in addition to working every day, I have to help plan Children's Crossing, think about senior recognition, help organize a mini-retreat, plan for guests during Come and See, serve at Otey, attend board meetings, start new knitting projects, commute back to SC to work, attend basketball games and tennis matches, cook dinners for those in need, and oh yeah, read the book for book club. Maybe I should define "slowing down time." When Isabel was born, older moms told me to enjoy her first year, that it goes by so fast. There was nothing fast about endless sleepless nights, pails of dirty diapers, piles of tiny clothing and the constant warming of bottles. I could not wait for that child to go the potty and lift a fork!
She was cute, though. And everyone loved holding her, especially her Aunt Renee, left.
When I was in college, adults would exclaim to me how college was the best time of their lives!! Well, it was fine, I thought. Two hours of class a day, nap in the afternoon, drink most of the night, work a little part time job at the Statehouse. I mean, that was fine. I really didn't get why adults were so crazy about college.
At USC, football games weren't nearly as interesting as tailgating. At right, senior year, with my roommate and long-time best friend Lair.
Of course, now that I look back, that first year did go fast. And I miss it. I would like another first year. I would enjoy it differently. And college was great, compared to real life. Two hours of class a day? Seriously? What was I thinking? How did I not totally appreciate that? Maybe it's youth. Maybe it's me. I have a difficult time appreciating the moment I'm in. I'm always planning for the next moment, to make sure I'm ready. I plan meals in a specific meal calendar. I have a work calendar that keeps track of all future meetings and events. I spend a good portion of my day looking forward to the next portion of my life. But as we see this time here in this particular place coming to an end, I have resolved to slow 2017 down. (Because, of course, I've already looked ahead to 2018 and know that it will entail two graduations, a new job, a major move and a college admission.) I'm calling it a carbo-load for 2018. I want to revel in this place, these moments, this time in our life. I want it to go on for more than one more year, I want to squeeze every mile of trail out of this place that I can. I want to enjoy every stoplight-less trek to the Piggly Wiggly, and every courageous basketball game that Isabel plays in. I want to share all I can with this singular group of people I would not know but for this place and our church. I want to soak in the last times I'll get to sit next to Michael in church. I want to bathe in the quiet rhythm of work I do each day, laughing at strangers who stop to take a selfie with our Jesus on the fence. I don't want to miss a minute of it this year because I'm worried about what's next. Already, of course, I'm having difficulty. A flurry of planning for activities in May has spun up today, college tours are in the offing, and work is a constant source of busy-ness and worry. Be still and know that I am God. Ps. 46:10 I'm trying to be still and slow down this year. It doesn't sound like it, does it? Michael and I walked Jackson out to the Cross tonight and talked about slowing down and living in the moment. Living in the moment, he said, does not involve talking about living in the moment. So we talked about something theological. I forget what. And we looked out at the cove.
Michael at the Cross tonight, right. You can see Jackson's tail beyond him.
I had the knitting/book club over last night, and we all sat quietly and talked about birth, death, life, planning, dinner, being tired. I slumped in my chair, drank tea and ate pound cake. We don't really knit that much. And we talked about one short story. And we talked about life. It was slow, we were still, and we listened and thought, just in those moments. I'd like more moments like that this year - maybe I'll plan some.
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