living intentionally Archives

5 ways to practice being present in the moment

There are some people in our lives who are so totally our opposite, it can feel as though the two of us come from different planets.

We have our similarities of course – or we would never have become friends – but I often find it is our differences that bring us together.

Just like the old saying goes…Opposites attract.

My boyfriend, Dom, and I are exactly like that.

I am a flurry of activity, prepared for every eventuality, constantly thinking about the next step. He is content to remain in the same place, isn’t worried about what’s next, isn’t in a hurry to get anywhere.

I am in a hundred places at the same time, whereas he is always present, living in the moment, inherently mindful.

These facets of our personalities clash spectacularly as you can imagine.

I am tapping my foot, ready to go, waiting beside the front door. He is simultaneously putting on his shoes, checking the oil in his car and sweeping the kitchen floor.

I am carefully writing out and sticking to a shopping list. He is excitedly stuffing things into the supermarket trolley like a kid in a candy store.

I am making everyone dizzy with all of my plans. He is happily pouring his cereal and opening up the next chapter of his book.

How can he be so content just living from moment to moment? Isn’t he worried about the future? Isn’t he concerned about how much milk we have left or whether he remembered to turn the oven off or what he said to that person last week?

My frustration is pointing out what I need to fix, not with Dom, but within myself.

This desperate need to rush, this constant feeling of needing to get something done, the way I resist being still and captivated in the wonder of moments.

Dom doesn’t need to speed up, I need to slow down.

My laser-focus on tasks, productivity and organisation is causing me to miss the big picture or perhaps, the small picture. All those sweet, silly moments that I’m always bulldozing through in my hurry to stick to my rigid plans.

I can feel the time slipping through my fingers like grains of sand in a hourglass. If only I knew how to pause it for a second, to open my eyes to what is right in front of me.

The precious hugs that I hold so briefly before I strain to get back to the vegetables I was chopping.

The satiny, morning sun in the living room that I glance over while I’m rushing to make the house perfect before our friends arrive for breakfast.

That warm, cozy feeling of being snuggled in bed that I jump from so that I can tackle my to-do list immediately.

And this constant rushing feeds my anxiety.

I am always afraid of what is coming next because I am always thinking about, and living in, tomorrow.

What I need, is to start living right here, in today. I need to practice being present in the moment.

So these are my tips for those of you who come from the same planet as me (the hyper-focused, super-organised, stressed-out one). Let’s try to slow down.

5 ways to practice being present in the moment

Stop worrying about tomorrow

I really need to schedule an appointment to get my wisdom teeth taken out and I have been worrying about it for months.

Almost every day I have been worrying about making the call, paying for the procedure, getting the teeth out and the inevitable pain I will feel afterwards.

But the other day I realised something – I am not getting my wisdom teeth out today – and therefore I do not need to worry about all those things today.

Each day has plenty of worries without me adding tomorrows worries too!

So this is my question for you: Is the thing you are worrying about happening today?

If yes, then it is perfectly acceptable to feel concerned about it.

If not, then remind yourself that today you are safe. You have nothing to worry about today.

Rest in gratitude

When something makes me feel especially happy, I enjoy it for approximately one second and then I feel terribly afraid that this thing is going to be taken away from me.

I call this self-sabotage, Brene Brown calls it ‘foreboding joy.‘

A way of protecting ourselves from the worse-case-scenario by playing it out in our heads. And according to Brene, the antidote to this miserable way of thinking, is gratitude. Daring to be vulnerable and choosing to feel the joy over the fear.

When you feel that rising panic about something going horribly wrong- give thanks.

Notice your joy

So often, we don’t allow ourselves to fully enjoy a moment. We cloud our happiness with our pent up anger, sadness and fear.

When a moment strikes you as being absolutely delightful, when your chest swells and your laughter rings out, take a second to soak in that joy.

Notice how it makes you feel. Stay here awhile instead of rushing off to do the next thing.

Be intentional on social media

It can be all too easy to use social media as an escape. A chance to numb ourselves and avoid whatever is going on in our real lives.

We can sometimes let hours slip by as we scroll mindlessly through our newsfeed, without even stopping to notice or connect with anyone else.

Try to be intentional when you are online. Use those apps to actually connect with people. Leave thoughtful comments, share something you found valuable, add to the community rather than skimming over the posts you see.

Focus on one thing at a time

We like to think that if we do two things at once we are being more efficient but in reality, we are more likely just doing a bad job of two things instead of a good job of one.

I am not a fan of multi-tasking. I say focus on one thing and give it your full attention.

When I am driving, I can’t also be texting (mostly because that’s illegal but also because it is distracting.)

When I am talking to someone, I can’t also be editing a photo for Instagram.

When I am studying, I can’t also be on Facebook (although, if I am honest, I never really adhere to this.)

You just can’t be in two places at once. Be all here.

You know I am glad that we aren’t all the same. The world needs both of us. People to make things happen, to plan ahead, to get the job done today. And people to encourage us to rest, to keep us grounded, to remind us of the importance of being present in the moment.

5 Comments

In Living intentionally

How to slow down and enjoy life without feeling guilty

The lazy sunlight yawns through the partly opened curtains.

I pour the coffee grounds into the pot followed by the boiling water.

Three stirs to the left, then three to the right.

The motions of my mornings, slow and serene.

I hop from foot to foot as I wait for the coffee to brew.

I take delight in the effort of plunging, the delicious anticipation.

Gently I tip the coffee into my cup, inhaling to alertness.

It’s deep and bold and makes me feel ever-so-slightly dizzy.

I sit and sip and peruse the newspaper.

Finding rest in the gentle morning’s embrace.

My father is one of those people who just cannot sit still. No matter what, it always seems as though he is on a mission. He has an admirable dose of determination and a laser focus like no other.

I know for sure that it is him I inherited this particular trait from. It is him that I blame for my obsession with to-do lists and my antsy-pantsy need to get every, single task done.

We are like bees, buzzing so quickly from one job to another that if you blink you might just miss us.

But for every doer there is a thinker. A brake that causes us to decelerate. An anchor that keeps us moored to the shore.

They are the ones who urge us to stop for a lunch break. Who remind us that night time is for sleeping. Who will gently bring us back to rest when we are whirling around like spinning tops.

My boyfriend is one of those people.

He knows how to slow down and enjoy life. It comes naturally to him in a way it never has to me, so we often are at odds with one another.

We are forces pulling in opposite directions. We are a paradox. An unstoppable force meeting an immovable object…that’s us.

But I am learning how to slow down and enjoy life right now, in this very moment. I am learning how to sit still without thinking of my to-do list.

I am learning to find peace in those quiet moments and to practice patience in those painfully slow moments.

“Like a hummingbird, we aspire to hover and to savor each moment as it passes, embrace all that life has to offer and to celebrate the joy of everyday.” – Papyrus

I’m terrified that because of my nature, because it isn’t often that I’m not in a hurry, I could end up missing out on life.

I could get so caught up in getting tasks done that I actually wouldn’t take the time to enjoy the seconds and minutes that life is made up of.

The irony is that sometimes I try so hard to make a moment memorable that I actually miss out on the enjoyment of the moment which is the very thing that makes it memorable.

But how do we become hummingbirds? Able to hover and rest in the moment.

How do we actually slow down and enjoy life?

Create a done list

A list of the things you have achieved for each day or that week.

I often find that I can’t stop because I feel that slowing down means I am unproductive. And there is not much I dislike more than feeling lazy and unproductive.

So an easy way to get around that feeling is to prove to yourself that you have been productive. That’s where the ‘done’ list comes in. This means you can enjoy your time off because you know you have already worked hard and earned it.

Make time for it

Schedule that slow, restful time in your diary.

It might sound absurd to someone who is laid-back and doesn’t need to schedule time for rest. But for those of us who can’t sit still, having time set aside for relaxing can be the only way we will actually remember to do it.

Sit still or meditate

I’ve never been so great at meditation because my mind tends to wander and start working instead of resting.

I’m trying to get to the point where I absolutely clear my head and can rest there, but for now I find simply sitting still and absorbing the scene around me is all I need to escape for awhile. This brings my focus back to being present in that moment.

Again, this might sound excessive to some, but maybe try setting an alarm at random points throughout the day and for a minute just pause and take in what’s before you.

Notice the sights, smells and sounds. Be aware of how you are feeling at that moment and consider if there is anything you could do to make yourself feel better.

Do something just for fun

When you get stuck in cycle of constant productivity you don’t tend to leave a lot of time for goofing around. In fact, when other people try to get you to have fun it often ends in an irritated squabble.

One of the best skills to have is the ability to be adaptable. You can work on your flexibility by doing things just because they are fun.

Everything doesn’t need to have an ultimate purpose or a goal for you to achieve, some things (the best things) are simply just fun to do.

Be patient with yourself

Most of all you have to recognise that learning how to slow down and enjoy life isn’t always easy. As we move through life we will always be learning so we have to be kind to ourselves and extend grace where it is needed.

We might not always have as much patience as we wish we did. We might get frustrated by those who put on the brakes and slow us down. We might keep going and going until we burnout.

Eventually we will get to a place where slowing down comes naturally to us.

“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes…including you.” – Anne Lamott

Do you struggle with feeling guilty for slowing down?

10 Comments

In Living intentionally

Reasons for living: looking for the beauty in a messy world

I’ve been feeling haunted lately. Overwhelmed by the frequent visits of the ghosts of anxiety and depression.

I’ve unlatched the windows and left the doors wide open. I’ve welcomed them in and made them tea. We’ve curled up on the couch together and I’ve let them talk me into the same old habits.

The moping. The dreading. The hiding.

I have always liked the quote by Rumi…

Life is a balance of holding on and letting go.

In this bittersweet world of heartbreak, delight, suffering and awe, finding this balance becomes a matter of survival.

I need to hold on to the sweet, the good, the lovely and the joyful. These things are like a life raft, the only barrier between me and the freezing waters below.

I must let go of the bitter, the sad, the unfair and the awful. Because holding them too long scorches my hands, blinds my sight and cripples my whole being.

It sometimes seems cruel to me that we were created with such inquisitive minds, yet left with so many unanswered and unanswerable questions.

I so often wonder why… but I am old enough to know now that there are somethings we don’t know.

Perhaps everything doesn’t happen for reason. Maybe some things just happen.

So as I’m wrestling with my confusion and trying to make sense of the mess I see around me, I have decided that I will refuse to let the darkness win. I won’t be overcome by sadness, emptiness or numbness.

Right now, I am choosing to live. I am searching for beauty in the midst of this messy world, in the middle of my messy life and here’s why I think you should too…

Reasons to live:

One.

When you hold someone you love so much that you cannot help but squeeze them tightly. Willing them to never let you go. And that precious feeling of realising that they are squeezing you right back.

Two.

Sitting outside in the summer with clear, blue skies above you. The sun warming your back and penetrating its warmth deep down into your soul.

Three.

Going to the beach and feeling the salt cling to your skin. The way it leaves your hair matted and lingers on your tongue. The sand that squishes in between your toes, gathers in your towel and spreads absolutely everywhere.

Four.

Jumping into a bed covered with freshly washed sheets. So crisp and clean you feel like royalty.

Five.

Biting into a soft dinner roll that is still warm from being in the oven. Spreading butter lavishly across the bread and watching as it sinks in beautifully.

Six.

Staying outside to watch the dusk melt a glorious sunset into the dark night sky.

Seven.

Getting dressed up to go somewhere fancy. Feeling like a million dollars.

Seven.

Watching a delicate butterfly dancing lightly on the breeze.

Eight.

That fluttery, stomach-sinking feeling of talking to someone you like very much.

Nine.

When it’s cool in the winter and you can see your breath billow around you like smoke from a dragon.

Ten.

When you share a special smile with someone that only the two of you understand.

Eleven.

That floopy feeling you get when drinking cocktails on an empty stomach.

Twelve.

Bagels that are toasted, smeared with thick layers of cream cheese and boysenberry jam.

Thirteen.

Thawing out your fingers beside the fire after braving the icy wind outside.

Fourteen.

Napping in the afternoon and waking up feeling all cozy and yummy.

Fifteen.

Finding a cafe that makes a perfect cup of coffee. Inhaling the soothing scent and buzzing when the caffeine finally wakes you up.

Sixteen.

The satisfaction of eating something you grew all by yourself in your garden.

Seventeen.

Back rubs and side hugs.

Eighteen.

Coming home after a very long day and kicking your shoes off your tired feet. Putting on comfy slippers that melt beneath each step.

Nineteen.

Watching a thunderstorm roll in. Feeling the rumble of thunder echo in your chest. That violent terror that shakes you with every bolt of lightening.

Twenty.

Being out in the middle of nowhere on a crisp night and seeing millions of stars twinkling high above you.

Twenty one.

Finding that deliciously soft spot of fur behind a dog’s ears.

Twenty two.

Toasting marshmallows over a campfire so that they blister and crisp perfectly on the outside while remaining gooey through the centre.

Twenty three.

Fresh tomatoes that carry an earthy scent. Rosy-red cheeked and sweet to eat.

Twenty four.

Kisses that almost stop time. Making you forget where and who you are for a teensy tiny second.

Twenty five.

The fresh start of a new day, a new month and a new year. A blank page full of possibilities.

And on and on I go, counting my blessings and remembering the reasons for living. Remembering all the wonderful moments sprinkled throughout the mundane in my every day.

This world is vast.

It stretches on further than our minds can grasp.

There is so much to explore, so much to experience, so much to beauty we have yet to see.

I know that the bitter is very real. Burning our throats as it goes down. Pulling the curtains and blocking the sunlight. Turning our whole world upside down.

But let us not forget the sweet. Let us not become numb to its gentle caress. It is the sweet that makes life worth living.

There are so many resolutions we could make this year. So many promises to ourselves and to others.

But for me, there is only one resolution I will be making.

To search wholeheartedly for beauty in my everyday life.

To shut the door on anxiety and depression. To seek help when I need it and give myself grace in abundance.

To refuse to cling onto the bitter but instead, to remember the sweet.

5 Comments

In Living intentionally

Being present in a distraction-filled world

I have always wanted to be one of those carefree, spontaneous people who lives in the moment. The kind of person who adroitly bounds from one adventure to the next. Who is thrilled with change, delighted with surprises, focused solely on the here and now.

That will never be me.

I have to fight for the here and now.

I have to wrestle with myself to stay grounded in the present.

Because introverts have this whole other world inside their heads. We wander up there frequently without anyone noticing and spend hours getting lost in our swirling thoughts and alluring dreams.

In my head I have this dream of myself in the future.

I’m sitting on a wooden swing beneath a grand oak tree in my garden. Bluebells and daffodils brim over in my planter boxes. The grass has been freshly mowed and the clippings lay in messy clumps all over the lawn.

We live in this perfect, old villa with rocking chairs on the front porch and hanging baskets swinging from the awning. Our mailbox has a blue roof and our fence is white and picket.

In summer I’m always out in the garden, watering can in hand, tending to my plants.

In autumn I sit on the porch sipping apple cinnamon-spiced tea and watching the leaves pile up in the front yard.

I can get lost in this daydream and lose all sense of time.

See, I have a heart that is spurred on by expectation. It beats a rhythm of longing. Constantly demanding more, never satisfied with what it has.

I am forever at war with myself.

I must fight for this moment. This one right here. Sitting at my kitchen table in my dressing gown, sipping coffee. I must force myself to meander back down outside of my head and become absorbed fully in appreciating the present.

And I’m not the only one.

Our modern lives are so cluttered with distractions.

Billboards on every corner, notifications from every app, adverts after every second song. Multitasking has become our second nature, we don’t know how to do just the one thing anymore.

While eating our breakfast, we are scrolling through our emails. While walking we are listening to podcasts. While having conversations we are having entirely different ones on our phones.

But I miss the eye contact. The face to face conversations. The careful, handwritten letters slipped into my mailbox.

Everything these days is so instant and hurried. I hardly ever feel seen or understood, nobody has the time.

Even when we are in one place, we wish we were in another. We watch the sunset through the lens of our cameras, we live our lives to upload on our Instastories, we’ve made a sport out of collecting memories and flashing them around for everyone else to see.

It feels so fake, so inauthentic, so exhausting to maintain.

Putting my phone down feels like a breath of fresh air. Now I hardly post on social media, it feels like I’m coming home, back to the real me. Without the pressure of a billion eyes watching me, I am free to actually live.

What I need, what we all need really, is a new pace. A slower, more deliberate way of living. An awareness of the buzz, the hustle, the impatience. A return to simpler times which were perhaps not so foolish after all.

It saddens me to think that some of the old, slower ways of doing things will soon be lost due to our impatience.

I hope my kids get to experience the joy of opening up their mailbox and finding a package waiting for them.

I hope they get the chance to trawl around a hundred different shops looking for the perfect gift rather than sitting at home filling up their online shopping cart.

I hope they will know the feeling of the worn-out pages of a much-loved paperback.

I hope they will take delight in digging up carrots from their own garden rather than reaching for plastic wrapped, pre-washed vegetables in the supermarket.

There is something to be said for the ease and convenience of our everyday lives, but still I hope that my children will make time for a little inconvenience.

Because I have found that the best conversations happen when we’ve both left our phones in our purses. The most pleasure I’ve taken from a kind note was one written out by hand and delivered to me personally. The best lemon muffin recipe I have ever found was shared with me by a friend of a friend.

Being present is recognizing that the here and now moments are what matter the most.

It’s fighting the urge to move on to the next thing while you are still doing the first. It’s saying grace before a meal, giving thanks for the one who prepared it. It’s noticing the colours of the leaves as you are walking to work. It’s falling asleep to the gentle hum of crickets outside your bedroom window.

Being present is choosing to let go of the past and refusing to be afraid of the future.

So here’s to slowing down, finding moments of solitude in a distraction-filled world and doing our very best to enjoy the here and now.

There is not a whole lot in our lives that we have control over but this one thing is ours to protect. We have the choice every day to fall in love with life.

7 Comments

In Living intentionally

Fighting the fear of missing out

A few weeks ago I was fortunate to be out at the beach just as the sun was setting.

It was one of those lazy summer evenings where you are gathered around the table for hours after you’ve finished eating. Settling into the dusk and drinking in the buoyant conversation.

Most days the sunset is blocked by trees, hills and buildings but this particular evening we were out West with nothing but sand stretching before us. Our view was unobstructed and as we chatted away, we noticed the faint whispers of clouds suddenly flecked with sunlight.

We quickly raced up the hill to get a better view. But as we pulled the car into the lookout spot, the sun dipped behind clouds. We grumbled and were about to give up on the sunset but we figured we might as well stay just in case something happened.

The sun remained encased in clouds for a few more minutes and the coolness of the night seeped over us. But then all of a sudden, the sky was illuminated. Pink, orange, gold. Streams of blazing colour flooded the scene before us. Ocean and sky became one.

A painting streaked and blended with the utmost precision.

We got out our pathetic, little phone cameras and tried to capture the perfection. It didn’t seem to matter what angle I stood at or how much I decreased the exposure…the image was a poor representation of the magnificent spectacle we were witnessing.

As the final glow of sunlight faded into the night, I felt incredibly grateful and honored to have seen it with my own eyes.

And the overwhelming emotion I felt was relief. How lucky it was that my camera was unable to capture this perfect moment. It meant I couldn’t share it with anyone else, this experience, this brief reverie was all mine.

Recently, I’ve felt stretched between too many things, people and places. This need to participate in everything has drained me completely.

No matter where I am, I’m missing something else.

If I go to one party, I have to skip another. If I talk to one friend, I don’t get to chat with another. If I say yes to one offer, another one will surely come along.

I want to be everywhere. I want to see everyone. I want to do it all.

But I can’t… and so I’m forced to make a choice. To prioritize what matters most. To be decisive for once in my life. To commit and stick with it. And sometimes I don’t like making the choice.

Because sometimes duty requires me to be somewhere regardless of what my heart compels me to do. That feels especially unfair. It’s that prickling on the back of the neck I remember feeling every time my mum would ask me to help with chores. But I don’t want to…

If I was looking to slap a label on it, I’d say I’m suffering from the fear of missing out.

A fear that tells me that other people are having more fun.

I’m inadequate, my time is scarce, my friendships are insufficient. It’s a fear that breeds discontentment. Snuffing out joy and leaving an echo of emptiness.

It seems to me that the cure for the fear of missing out is being fully present.

Soaking in the sunset, feeling the rain as it batters down on your umbrella, looking the person who you are talking to directly in the eye.

Because our world overlooks these things. It tells us we should always be on the search for something better. We should be selfishly seeking the next adventure and when we find it, we should post all about it.

We are trapped by this terrible pitfall of seeking validation and approval. Of needing to be where the party is, needing to participate in the action. Needing to obtain maximum pleasure for our greedy hearts.

It’s such a hollow way of living. It’s superficial, flaky and unsatisfying.

Fighting the fear of missing out is a daily battle.

That need to share everything with the world. ‘Hey, look at me, look how great my life is.’

Fight that urge.

Be selfish with moments.

Put down your cell phone and watch the sunset with your own eyes.

It’s a beautiful thing that cameras, lenses and smartphones can’t capture some things. Rainbows, beach sunsets, birthday wishes, falling in love…because that’s the way it should be.

Some things are meant to be experienced. To be felt rather than just seen.

Fighting the fear of missing out means we have to immerse ourselves in the moment. Wherever you are, be all there.

Stop scrolling, sharing and feeling like your situation is lacking.

We can’t be everywhere, but we can be right here. Right now, in this moment.

We have to make a choice to be fully present. Because there will always be somewhere flashier you could be. There will always be someone funnier you could be talking to. But chasing those things will only leave you feeling empty.

We find contentment when we recognize how precious, beautiful and fleeting the moment we are in really is.

Take delight in the intricate, seemingly mundane details…because my friend, this is your life. Don’t blink twice or you’ll miss it.

Funnily enough, the fear of missing out is a self fulfilling prophecy. If you’re so afraid of missing out that you try to do it all, see it all and be it all…missing out is exactly what you’ll do.

So instead, let’s live intentionally. Wherever we are, let’s be all there.

6 Comments

In Living intentionally

There is enough

It’s the best time of the day.

Where stillness and dew on the grass have yet to be broken.

Where the light is soft and floats in

This moment, this space, is all mine.

And I inhale it selfishly.

Because soon the world will wake up.

The lights will turn on, the cars will rev their engines.

The tranquility will be broken.

My worries will weigh down on me.

But for now I savour this moment.

This moment gives me room to breathe.

Rest for a weary soul and hope for a heavy heart.

In the stillness I find peace.

In the quiet I find my strength.

Most mornings I jolt awake as my alarm blares loudly from across the room. I fumble around to find my glasses case and the light switch and then I stumble to my feet. I go through the motions of getting dressed, making breakfast, pouring that absolutely essential cup of coffee and gathering the things I require for the day.

It usually feels as though I am scrambling to fit it all in. My head is spinning trying to remember all the dates, appointments and events. Before I have even stepped out the front door, my feet are weary and my soul is drained.

I feel like there is never enough. I feel like I am not enough. Like I’m spread too thin. Scraped out like the end of a peanut butter jar. Barely managing to reach the ends.

I suppose it’s because scarcity is the mindset running rampant in our modern lives. Time, money, and resources are limited so we have to be the best to secure it all. We have to outsmart everyone else or we will miss out.

We need to be smartest to get the promotion. We need to be prettiest to get the guy. We need to be the busiest to prove we can do it all.

We live in this war against ourselves because we are never enough.

This scarcity anguish runs deep in our veins. It’s venom that corrupts all peace, pleasure and purpose. It’s what makes us jealous when we see others succeed because if they get a bigger slice of the pie, it means our piece is smaller.

It’s difficult for us to share because we’re so afraid we’ll run out. We only have enough energy to listen to one friend’s struggles. We only have enough time to feed our own family. We only have enough patience to make it to our mailbox in the evening.

If we give to this person then another is just gonna have to miss out…that’s how it works. There just isn’t enough. We just aren’t enough.

But what if we are wrong?

What if there is another way?

What if we don’t need to try harder or do more… what if there is enough?

It seems that so many of us are forgetting the simple truth that Jesus came so that we could have life, and have it in all its fullness.

Jesus came so that we could live in abundance…not scarcity.

That means that there is enough for you, for me, for your family, your neighbours and every other human being on this planet.

Scarcity puts a high price on commodities. Abundance breaks down barriers of inequality.

Scarcity turns us inward. Abundance sends us outward.

Scarcity creates fear and distrust. Abundance produces community and love.

When we live from a place of abundance, it changes everything. If we aren’t lacking…we can give everything. We have nothing to lose and so much to gain.

When we understand that it is God’s grace alone that enables us to live we are free. It takes the pressure to perform away from us. We no longer need to prove ourselves. We can just be.

We are no longer in competition…we are on the same team. We cheer one another on and build each other up. We give and give and give and still we never run out.

I don’t want to spend any more of my mornings rushing around with this sense of dread and inadequacy. I want to live in this space of abundance.

Where I can slow down long enough to appreciate the gentle light of the morning. Where I can pause at traffic lights without ranting about how much time I’m wasting. Where I can sit face to face with someone and listen when they are talking to me.

We can rest. We can stop fighting one another. We can share what we have with the assurance that there will always be more.

When we wake in the morning we can rise and give thanks because there is enough time in this day and we are already enough.

This is amazing grace. This is the fullness of the gospel. This is the good news that we have the privilege of sharing.

You and me, our yokes are easy and our burdens are light. We are walking under the wings of grace daily and we know this is the way it is supposed to be. When the world sees us, let them be awestruck by our patience in affliction, our willingness to serve, and our generosity of spirit.

We aren’t like the rest of the crowd hooting out of impatience, shoving to get to the front of the line or taking the last piece of cake greedily for ourselves.

We are the fragrance of grace, the essence of abundance. The reminder for this weary world that there is enough.

And when we fall short ourselves…we can rest assured that His unfailing grace will be sufficient for us too.

3 Comments