It takes a certain kind of boldness to slow down.
To choose a pace that cultivates a nourished heart rather than productivity.
To be specific, especially with your dreams.
To lay them down at the feet of Jesus, remembering that what is precious to you is precious to Him too.
It takes a little irrationality to slow down to the pace of our Heavenly Father when He takes His sweet time to tend to the garden of your soul.
It takes heart to wait on the One who would rather make you a loaf of artisan bread, from grain grown in the fields of His Heavenly Kingdom, then to eat what ever quick fix this world tries to offer you.
It takes courage to be unmoved as we listen for the still, small voice after the storm that says,
"Cease your striving, my girl. For I AM already enough for you."
What's funny is that I've spent my entire life afraid of my slow pace.
Slow is often equated with stupidity or immaturity. Thus, I didn't like it when my slow nature was put on display.
It's almost as if I've spent my whole life fighting against the current of my soul. I believed that lie that if I could just produce a little more, a little faster, a little more efficiently, then someone would finally affirm that I am enough.
It's so vague and so silly, especially when I write it out like that.
But I suppose that's how Satan likes to work. Vague fears that push us into the assembly line of striving.
And that's where a bold heart comes in.
To take off the assembly line uniform, the expectations, the false sense of security —to throw it all away in order to gain this one simple thing:
A life well wasted at the feet of Jesus.
"Wasted" according to this world.
"Poured out" according to you and me, because we understand that this life is all we have to offer.
And it is precious. The heart, this body, the silly dreams found in old journals and buried in desk drawers—
—it is all precious to the Heavenly Father who calls you His own.
Today, may you find the courage to wear your heart boldly and go your own pace, my friend.