Time is fleeting {a life update}

The morning sun filters through the trees and illuminate the dandelion whisps. The world comes to life as bird song floats on the breeze. Our puppy has me up and out early these days (yes! we got a golden retriever puppy in january. he's 8 months old now. stay tuned, i'm sure he will get his own post). And while my quiet time isn't so solitary anymore, I am forced to be more present. 

Our family is in transition yet again, though we are grateful we don't have to move this time! Transitions always make me more reflective, so I needed to write. Also, the world is absurd right now. An election year. An assasination attempt on a former president. My firstborn spending his summer working at Delanco Camp in New Jersey. A friend calling to tell me about a scary diagnosis. A couple new jobs. Starting my counseling practicum in the fall. It's a lot. 

My mind swirls... How is Caleb old enough to spend a summer away from us? How has our country gotten to the position we are in? How will all of my various roles and responsibilities fit together this year? How does God invite us to navigate suffering? And how exactly do we slow the onslaught of time? And then my mind returns to Ann Voskamp's words: 

“This, this is the only way to slow time: 
When I fully enter time’s swift current, enter into the current moment with the weight of all my attention, I slow the torrent with the weight of me all here. I can slow the torrent by being all here. I only live the full life when I live fully in the moment…. 
Weigh down this moment in time with full attention, and the whole of time’s river slows, slows, slows.” 

I slow time when I give this moment my full attention. I turn off auto-pilot. I put down my phone. I single-task, instead of multi-task. And 'Cease endlessly striving for what you would like to do and learn to love what must be done.' -Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 

I long to live a quiet, ordinary one-piece-life. Where all the pieces are woven together. Where my spirituality and family, work and play are all intertwined. As we sit in ordinary time in the liturgical year, I am practicing gratitude for what has been given and all that lies ahead. It will be beautiful, even when it is hard, because God is a good Maker and a kind Father. 

Slowing to See

I breeze by my son's classroom on the way back to my office- and am stopped in my tracks... fiery crimson petals act like a stoplight to my soul... I must pause and take it in. Appreciate the way the raindrops catch the morning light. The contrast of colors.

I've said it before, but living in Uganda is like living in technicolor. Everything is vibrant and intense- the colors, the scents, the cultural differences, the people (so very friendly, welcoming, and enthusiastic), even the weather (though pretty much perfect year round) is an intense contrast of just two seasons: rainy or dry. And I have a choice. I can allow the harsh contrasts to assault my vision- or I can stop and just appreciate it for what it is. No judgement.

This flower is audacious in it's beauty. And that's just what I love about it. I am not a fan of the color red- and I could have just kept walking... because its not my own personal concept of beautiful... but I slowed to see it for what it is. A canvas for the wild, audacious glory of God.

And I was challenged in that moment- how often do I rush by another person without slowing to see the fingerprints of God on their souls?? Do I just see the things that make them different from me? Do I simply dismiss them as "other"? Or do I see "child of God"... my sister or brother?

It just takes one moment of a day for your world to get rocked. One second to pause and really see.

I want to be a woman who truly sees. Someone who's gaze isn't always on my phone, who's agenda isn't the next item on my to do list, who's got enough margin in her day to stop and actually ask how you're doing, and listen for the answer- to really see you.