The rush
I've mentioned a time or two before the fact that I'm a product of the "microwave" generation; I'm used to getting what I need pretty quickly, whether it's information, food, something from the store. And I think it's how our culture is in general now. We're always in a rush. We live in overly caffeinated states, drinking Starbucks' venti coffees with five shots of espresso, so that we can be more efficient with our time and so that we can be these superhumans who get more done in a given period of time than anyone before us ever has.
But what about those of us who don't want to rush? I still want things pretty instantly, don't get me wrong. I love being able to see the faces of my family members and my dog on the other side of the country via Facetime after punching in a few buttons on my phone; I love the ease with which I can download movies and music from the Internet, in enough time to update my playlists on my phone before running off to the gym. I love being able to Google information and find hundreds of links within seconds of typing in my request in the search engine.
But I am also a little old-fashioned in other ways. I want to read books instead of synopses and Buzzfeed articles; I want to hear the shrill whistle of my tea kettle as I patiently wait for the water to boil before my nightly cup of Earl Grey. I want to bake my own bread, sitting it out the night before so the dough has time to rise overnight, instead of running to the store to grab whichever loaf is on sale that week. I want to go on a long, slow, run outside instead of just squeezing in a quick workout on the elliptical between work and dinner. I want to use all of the vacation time I'm allowed to use at work, and I want to spend my vacation time with family and friends and the people that are dear to me so that I don't miss out on those big important moments of laughter and love. I want to labor in a yard that is my own over plants and vegetables that come from tiny seeds instead of making numerous "quick trips" to the grocery store each way for produce. I want to sit by my window each morning sipping on coffee while reading my Bible or a good book instead of gulping down my coffee as quickly as I can in my ten minute drive to work.
I don't want to miss things because of the rush. I don't want to miss the small pieces of joy that God infuses in each day because I was too busy trying to get somewhere quickly or finding a shortcut to get something done. I want the long, slow processes and the old-fashioned ways of life. I want to appreciate each moment for what it's worth, to let each moment have its glory without being eaten up by the next one.
A big part of grasping this is being present in each moment. And the other part is being still.
But what about those of us who don't want to rush? I still want things pretty instantly, don't get me wrong. I love being able to see the faces of my family members and my dog on the other side of the country via Facetime after punching in a few buttons on my phone; I love the ease with which I can download movies and music from the Internet, in enough time to update my playlists on my phone before running off to the gym. I love being able to Google information and find hundreds of links within seconds of typing in my request in the search engine.
But I am also a little old-fashioned in other ways. I want to read books instead of synopses and Buzzfeed articles; I want to hear the shrill whistle of my tea kettle as I patiently wait for the water to boil before my nightly cup of Earl Grey. I want to bake my own bread, sitting it out the night before so the dough has time to rise overnight, instead of running to the store to grab whichever loaf is on sale that week. I want to go on a long, slow, run outside instead of just squeezing in a quick workout on the elliptical between work and dinner. I want to use all of the vacation time I'm allowed to use at work, and I want to spend my vacation time with family and friends and the people that are dear to me so that I don't miss out on those big important moments of laughter and love. I want to labor in a yard that is my own over plants and vegetables that come from tiny seeds instead of making numerous "quick trips" to the grocery store each way for produce. I want to sit by my window each morning sipping on coffee while reading my Bible or a good book instead of gulping down my coffee as quickly as I can in my ten minute drive to work.
I don't want to miss things because of the rush. I don't want to miss the small pieces of joy that God infuses in each day because I was too busy trying to get somewhere quickly or finding a shortcut to get something done. I want the long, slow processes and the old-fashioned ways of life. I want to appreciate each moment for what it's worth, to let each moment have its glory without being eaten up by the next one.
A big part of grasping this is being present in each moment. And the other part is being still.
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