We were driving home from church yesterday, on Easter, when I noticed how very green everything was getting around here. The grass in some yards was already full and lush, and all the trees except the oaks had those bright little pops of chartreuse that mean the leaves are so, so close to popping out. It's been happening for some time, I know--my daffodils have been blooming for nearly a month now--, and it’s one of my favorite times of the year, but for some reason, I hadn't really taken the time to absorb it until then.
I was deep in the middle of brainstorming--I'd just gotten edits back for the novel I'm publishing later this year, Thief By Trade, and I was mulling over the few things I'd managed to sneak a peek at during our church's Easter breakfast, when the green suddenly caught my attention.
When did it get so green? I thought.
That's when it occurred to me that perhaps I should pay more attention to my surroundings. But not just in a general way, either--believe me, I notice very quickly when my kitchen is a wreck and the kids have scattered laundry down the hall! I mean in a more specific, seasonal sense. Every year, I feel like the budding of the trees and the greening of the grass catches me by surprise. I'm also always shocked by the way the grass "suddenly" becomes golden in the summer, and way the leaves turn from mature dark green to a multitude of colors in the fall.
It struck me that perhaps I should try to be more intentional as I go about my everyday life. This is not a new thought--since the first time I heard the phrase 'slow living' online, I've been intrigued by the concept. For many years, I feel like I've been living at a galloping pace, even though we don't even leave the house most days. Every day, there's so much stuff to do--even more, now, since I'm trying to build an exercise habit and to make sure I'm eating healthily and not just grabbing a a few crackers out of the pantry and calling it 'lunch'. Even daily living--school, laundry, dishes, cooking, writing, study time, exercise--feels like it fills an entire day, so I'm never left with quite as much time as I'd like. Add in the commitments we keep--Bible study on Wednesdays, co-op on Thursdays, choir and gym on Fridays, church on Sundays, small group every other Sunday, and D&D night every other Tuesday--and it adds up to pull away even more time. On top of all that--as if that isn't enough--my husband's job means he works variable shifts, and sometimes emergency shifts.
(I could give up my hour of Minecraft every day, but given it's something that helps my creative brain function, it feels like it would be more detrimental than anything.)
I'm grateful to have all of these things. They are blessings to me, all of them. And I'm doubly grateful to have the energy to enjoy them nowadays. This time last year, getting out of bed and doing basic hygiene was beginning to feel like a chore, and I desperately looked for the smallest reasons to renege on my commits every single day. I'm grateful my husband has a good job, even if it's become harder and harder to keep up with the demands of variable shifts.
But it doesn't stop me from wishing I could figure out a way to slow down my life. To feel as though I have time to breath and to do the things I want to do, instead of just trying to keep my head above water with the basics.
Maybe that's just part of life. Maybe that's the stage I'm in--my kids are eleven and eight, full of energy, loving life, and enjoying being with friends. Maybe I just have to make some sacrifices right now and not get as much slow time, alone time, and rest as I'd prefer.
And maybe, perhaps, I should change my mindset, because as I'm writing this article, I realize that maybe it's not 'slow living' I want so much as I want 'restful' and 'intentional' living. (I never know what I really think until it comes out in my writing.) Rather than focusing on carving things out of my schedule (or wishing I could), maybe I should focus on having good routines, and habit-stacking, and teaching my kids the same. Maybe on my daily walks with the dog, I should learn to pause, to put away the earbuds and audiobook. Maybe I should finally dive into those books I have cluttering up my TBR list about liturgical, seasonal living, and use that as a springboard to craft the kind of life that I want, and that still have enough room to fit in all the things we do as a family.
Maybe then, I would have the time to notice the buds beginning to green out every year.