If I had to choose one word to describe the past week, it would be slow.
Slow, slow, slow.
This recovery is going so slowly and making for a very slow week and making me a very slow person.
(Yeah, yeah. I can hear you guys making smart comments and laughing at me. You know who you are.)
It's been one of those weeks where I either choose to laugh or cry.
Every plan or schedule or list I've made, has been changed or thrown out completely.
There have been a few tears but I'm so happy and thankful to say that I've mostly been able to choose laughter.
I've had friends and family ask me if I'm okay because I laugh so freaking hard at such little things.
It's stress relief. And it's the best medicine.
But I digress.
Slow has not been part of my vocabulary for a long, long, long time.
But when I find myself canceling (very much looked forward to) plans left and right, I realize just how full and nonstop and crazy and fast my life has been.
The hours and days and weeks and months have been packed with good things: very good things.
There's been canoeing and running and coffee chats and fairs and ministry and cookouts and bonfires and shopping trips and dinner dates and weekend get aways and long hours at work and gun shooting and weddings and parties and and cupcakes and sports and family gatherings and staying up half the night to play a crazy game and trips to the beach and so many more things that I can't even remember because all the craziness runs together.
(For the record, I don't regret any of it. This summer was amazing.)
And then all of a sudden I was laying in a hospital bed and everything came to a screeching halt.
And life is slow.
Very, very slow.
I'm having to learn what to do with slow.
Honestly, I don't think I even remembered what slow is.
And ya know what? Slow is good.
It's slow mornings with candles and books.
It's slow evenings with bubble baths and magazines.
It's slow days filled with writing and reading and studying scripture and watching shows.
It's writing my Compassion kids.
It's getting more sleep.
It's eating the right things.
It's relearning how to feel and truly breathe and actually process life.
I'll admit: I can't wait until "slowing down" isn't quite this slow. This kind of slow can't last forever in order for life to go on as it needs to go on (I need to work more than five hours a day, for instance).
I can't wait until I'm able to run a 5k again because right now doing ten squats leaves me winded.
I can't wait until I can go help a friend clean or paint or bring someone a meal.
I can't wait until I can arrive at work before 11:00am.
I can't wait until I can grab all my younger siblings and go do something crazy and active and fun.
I can't wait until I'm well enough that "slow" can include things like a lazy canoe trip down the Rock River or hiking in the Kettle Moraine or meeting a friend for coffee on a Saturday morning.
But really, I can wait.
I'll wait as long as I need to (because Lord knows, I realize that I have to listen to my body or it's not. good. at. all.)
If there's one thing I've learned the past week, it's that I have to let go of my schedules and plans and let God work according to His.
And all I have to say is this: His are very, very, very different from mine.
It grows and stretches and strengthens my faith and trust.
Life is full of different seasons and phases and I know that craziness will very much be a part of my life for the foreseeable future.
But my goal is that amidst the craziness that life brings, I'll remember to slow down and truly live each moment.
Because they go so fast.
Come now, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, to spend a year there, buy and sell, and make profit; whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is life? It is a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away. Instead you ought to say, "If the Lord wills, we shall live and do this or that.
(Photos taken on my iPhone5)