Is it difficult for you to slow down this time of year? It is for me. And I loathe it. Partially, my disposition is truly sensitive to the hustle and bustle around me. It is easy to get caught in the spin, looking for a way out, to stop and breathe, rest in the grace and precious gift that this approaching season is truly about--yet, I find myself here far too often. Spinning, spinning, spinning.
And instead of just dealing with it, and accepting that in a month or so I'll get to breathe and stand firmly on two feet, I need to make myself stop. A pulling against gravity has to happen to get me there, and make me slow down. Do you ever feel that way?
I found myself this past Saturday afternoon, thinking I could pile on a mile high to-do list, and that after the to-dos were checked off that Matt and I would meet up for a night of Christmas decorations, finding the perfect tree, hanging twinkle lights across our front window, and snuggling up for some eggnog and a movie. But my piling on, that list I made that was only of my doing and of my high expectations, burnt me out. Come 9 o'clock I was exhausted, and nearly in tears as I had no drop of energy left for decorating. My heart was broken. Broken all because of my doing, and my inability to slow down. I look back now and ask myself why I had to get those things done. Why were they so important--and to the extent of burning me out enough to have nothing left for my favorite thing of all time--decorating for Christmas? Not in the slightest.
Tomorrow we head out to Kansas for Thanksgiving. Matt's entire side of our family will be together in one place. And for me, right now, this is a gift. A reason for me to slow down, a pulling against gravity that will pick me up out of my busy little Denver sphere and plop me in a town with expanse fields, corn stalks for miles, homemade pies, and family. I want to have a season, or a life really for that matter, where I can slow down and easily get out of the spin. I don't want my own anxiety or need to accomplish things get in the way of new memory making, traditions culminating, and the simplest things I find so much joy in. Wouldn't that be the best gift? A box of encouragement wrapped up with string and parchment paper, that would overflow patience, a slowing down, a heightened sense of joy for the little things, and a buffer that would warn you if you were getting pulled in, starting to spin, away from the way you are supposed to live?
I want that for Christmas. And I'm pretty sure we can figure out a way to give it (without string and parchment paper).
