Slow

I love slow Saturday mornings. Really, any slow morning will do just fine. Mornings not burdened with alarms or schedules. Mornings not planned for me or requiring of me. Mornings that can drift slowly by while sipping coffee, practicing lazy.

The practice of lazy, is just that. For a recovering “busy bee” it is all about the practice. There was a time when slow was anything but enjoyable. A time when I had to go, had to do, had to be. A time when sitting still seemed torturous. Every moment had to be filled, every ounce had to be planned. And if I wasn’t going, wasn’t doing, I was terribly vexed and unsettled.

I am thankful for my husband in this regard. It is he who taught me to enjoy the quiet. He showed me how to slow down, how to enjoy being still, being content in nothing. Often he asks me why I love him, this is one reason. If not for him, I know I’d be shackled to busy, unsettled and discontent. So thank you my love. Thank you for saving me from busy and showing me slowness.

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