A few weeks ago, I posted about Ann Kroeker’s Slow-Down Fast—a way to prepare the heart and soul for celebrating Resurrection Sunday on April 24. This fast was a call to slow down the pace of life during the Lenten season to make room for more reflective, purposeful, worshipful living.
Looking at my lack of regular posting here at The Patch, you might have assumed my Slow-Down Fast included an abstention from blogging and other electronic communications. (Here’s a Wall Street Journal article about this very thing.) My absence here is not due to the fast, but it is indicative of the pace of my life as of late—hence my need for the Slow-Down Fast!
I’m so glad for the opportunity to put on the brakes.
The fast has come at the perfect time. I sense deep within the Spirit nudging me: Slow down. Make room. Focus.
And so I am.
I’ve made some difficult workload decisions that will help me slow down, make room, and focus more than I’ve been able to in the past months. Even as my heart ached to pull back in the areas where I’ve been stretched thin, I know it is necessary. Much more stretching and I’d be sure to encounter a tear. (Translation: melt down.) Rips require great attention and recovery; there’s no sense pushing on to that end.
I am listening to the Spirit, pulling back now, before I find myself in great pain.
The bit of margin I’ve already recovered has fed my creative juices. My mind is returning to feelings of whimsy and thoughts of fancy. I want to write again. I want to do something artsy. I want to pour out my gift to the One who gifted me.
I’m gathering up my stretched places in my arms like folds of fine silk. I draw it near; it’s precious. This is my gift back to the Giver. I gather it up, pleased to give back to Him all that I am.
The Slow-Down Fast caught my attention because I needed to regroup before I got trampled by my runaway life. My life is settling down again, but I do not fast for the sake of fasting or to get control of things. I fast to make room for the Giver and to remind myself that He is why I live.