Life is a whirlwind.
It starts moving—slowly in the mornings—with a groggy cup of coffee. Aging eyes that take longer to focus make the newspaper a challenge some days. A pen, my journal, an open heart, an open mind.
In the summer, an open window and the lilt of songbirds are my soundtrack.
The coffee starts to kick in and the eyes figure out what it means to be open again and then things start to pick up pace.
Gaining momentum when the kids wake up and things begin to whirl. Get dressed. Make breakfast. Make lunches. Brush your hair. Pack your bags. Remember this. Do you have that? Quick, into the car, and off we go.
And it continues, faster. There’s always something that needs to be done. Laundry to do. Tidying the house. Errands to run. Meals to plan. Groceries to shop. Appointments to keep. Kids to pick up. Dinner to make. Activities to attend. The hours in the day disappear.
And suddenly it’s finished. I get swept up in the whirl of activities and expectations of the day and when it’s all done it dumps me unceremoniously on my bed, exhausted.
And eight hours later, it begins again.
I don’t want to live in the whirlwind. I don’t like the fact that it just picks me up and tosses me around and then deposits me where it will. Like I have no control over it.
Intentional living. How many times do we hear about it?
Moving through life at a pace where we live making deliberate choices—choosing our actions and activities with intention—not just being swept up in the frenzy.
Making moments count, even if they’re small ones.
Looking for opportunities to meet God along the way. In the beauty of a flowerbed that we breeze past in our hurry. In the smile of the grocery clerk as we wait in the line.
In the interactions with our children, seeing His nature reflected in their zest for life that occasionally adds to my exhaustion. His creation.
Perhaps it’s in seeing someone who just needs the same. Can we move slowly enough through our obligations to offer them that?
A kind word?
That’s my goal for today. Just breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.
I’m feeling overwhelmed with the impending whirlwind today.
At the moment, I’m reveling in the quiet time and the birds, and dreading when the gentle breeze becomes a whirling dervish.
Just home from a week away, I’m looking at a list. It’s long.
Still battling sickness in our home – though, not as severe as before, symptoms still linger. I’m feeling battle-weary.
But Scripture reminds me that His mercies are new every morning. (Lamentations 3:22-23) And my worries? He’ll take them. (I Peter 5:7)
I don’t need to determine what my whole day will look like right now. I just need to move my feet.
On solid foundation.
I just need to breathe.