Hurry it up , life.

Unfortunately I am the most impatient person in the whole United States, maybe Ireland too. Oh and Florida, I’ve never been to Florida but I am sure there are more patient people than I. Maybe even people in prison. Geography wasn’t my best subject , mostly because I didn’t have the patience to sit through class. I just left, or didn’t come to class. For lack of patience reasoning’s.

I wish I would hurry up and write this blog so I could take a bath. 

Rhema, counting our chicken eggs before they hatched. Just kidding, we ate them.

Rhema, counting our chicken eggs before they hatched. Just kidding, we ate them. They’re under that cloth. Hiding. Also, isn’t she adorable?


It’s not that I hate the process of becoming a stronger woman, it’s just that I hate the process of becoming a stronger woman. It takes so long. My feet get tired from running to my prize and my jeans grow holes the size of Florida from begging on my knees for my process to my prize to END. I just want the prize, hand me the cookie. 


Slowly but surely the Lord is teaching, even me, the most impatient person alive that the prize isn’t sweet without the process. 

I like to jump the gun. Run the bath water too fast before it’s even warm. Put on my rainbows when the first peak of Spring arrives. I like to count my chickens before they hatch, and I love love to try the cookie dough before it bakes. When I receive good news, I want to tell the ENTIRE world that I am HAPPY, and my face tells of my mood.

Maybe this is why my process time is so long? Maybe He wants to show me to grow low and slow. Maybe he wants to show me that there is strength that comes from the waiting, and a longing for his blanketed presence to fill me as I run.


Laying the kids down for bed tonight, I longed for the moment when I rolled out of their beds, ninja style. Not setting off any of the multiple alarms set up for my attempt to escape. Onward into the hallway I go, not a care in the world except the pile full of dishes to be done, and the laundry to be folded. At least the puppy hasn’t had an accident today. I step further, I find the accident. I scream, and wake up said children. It starts over.

Laying there, rubbing my two year olds hair as she falls back asleep the Lord says to me:

“What if I would have handed you a teenager right off the bat? Welcome to motherhood Rachel, here is your grown daughter. You wouldn’t know a thing about her, or how to relate to her. You would have missed all the times she woke up as you crept out at night.

You would have missed the process of a growing love for her, and a passion inside your heart to parent. Don’t you see I want you to slow it down? Grow low and slow. The process makes a beautiful ending. But do not discount what happens to your character in this season. A seed is very small when it is planted. But water it, and slowly it will grow. Beautiful things grow slow.”

 Well that wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

Ha! 

I love when he corrects me, and wrecks my thoughts. Aligns my stubborn ass. I just said that.


Whether you are at the end of a hard season, or the beginning of a fruitful one, there is something to soak in in each one. I am learning to absorb Him. Meaning I am learning to slow it down, and allow him to slowly but surely pour into me what is needed, even in the hard times.

When we go through difficult times, often we allow them to mold us. What if we handed our minds to Christ, all the mush and the chaos, and allowed him in that hard place to mold us to be more like Him. After all we are vulnerable in these times, right? We are loose and fragile, easily swayed in our tired states.

When we run the race, eyes only on the finish line, we may trip on our fellow runners. We may not notice our shoe that has come untied, or that we are dehydrated, in need of a water break. Is the sun too hot, perhaps I should have worn sunscreen. We must pay attention to the process friends. We miss so much if our eyes are only fixated on the WINNER that we will be. What about the hard working runner you are now? What about the hours of training you did for this very moment in which you would run to your prize?

He always trains us before a big race. He trained me, only I didn’t notice until now. As I run and gasp for water. Will I stop and gulp it down? Allow him to rub my back a bit and feed me a meal before I start running again?

Or will I continue my race, only to have to stop halfway from my exhaustion? Give up the prize, and head home?

Nope. I will take breaks. Smell the roses and drink that water. Because in the end, I will be a seasoned winner.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s