slow living

Things are moving slow and fast at the same time these days, and I am leaning into the slow. Slow mornings with Jesus, slow goodbyes, slow to return to my First Love everyday. As the weeks go by at unreal speeds, I struggle to take in every last drop of this place I have grown to love--and I have fell in love in. There is something quite sweet about this time of year in the Blue Ridge mountains, what with the stunning, slow, transition from summer to autumn in the rusting of leaves and chilling of air. Within the visible elements of autumn are the deeper body, soul, and psychological elements that intertwine in the same slow fashion each year.

God marvelously designed our bodies with a limbic system that engages our affect, emotions, sensory processing, memories, and time perception among other everyday miracles. Autumn is always a time I choose to be keenly aware of what my limbic system is processing. Memories of falling in love with my husband this season 4 years ago, of carving pumpkins with my dad, of becoming excited about fall decorating with my mom, of watching Harry Potter and drinking tea with my best friend, all dance through the [literal] back of my mind without conscious thought. Each of these brings soul-deep feelings of comfort and familiarity. As I will the time to slow, sensory processing becomes one of the best parts of the season, for this is connected with current emotions and future memories. Some favorites include diffusing oils like cinnamon, clove, orange, and lathering on Thieves with the weather change, or smells of coffee shops on rainy days with friends, the way our home feels when we turn off the A/C and open all the windows, and taking in His grandeur on slow walks.

Inevitably, these little gifts slow down my growing list of to-do's and bring me face to face with my First Love again. See my last post to read what He has been graciously, slowly, showing me this season. As I have been mulling over the specific methods God seems to be using to draw me in once again, I am continually moved towards worship. Thank you, God, for little mercies all over this season, which aren't even little at all.

Saying goodbye still moves in slow motion, no matter the aesthetics of the season. Whether to new friends who feel like old ones, long-time clients, favorite places, or the whole Blue Ridge Parkway, saying goodbye hurts. But isn't that also the best part? They hurt because the physical elements of a dear relationship will no longer be near, and a large part will be missing. Memories are incredible miracle-thoughts and their power over us is more than we can handle sometimes. The memories of relationships--whether saying a temporary or forever goodbye, will only be as sweet as the physical experiences were.

Locking in the way the sun sets over that mountain range, the way that crinkle-eyed laugh made me smile every time, the way that car smelled the first time I knew I was in love, or the way that cup of tea tasted as I sat across from that dear friend is integral to a lasting impression of a memory. For good or for bad. But bad memories are for another time on the other side of many more lessons learned.

Strangely, there is peace here because this is but a momentary sadness. Not only do I hold onto the promise of a God who does immeasurably more than all I can ask or think, but I eagerly look forward to investing more of myself into more temporary relationships and making more bittersweet memories in beautiful places. Even if this only brings more painful goodbyes. "'Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take Him at His word, just to rest upon His promise..." Here we go into the last week of our time in our first home together here on earth, may it be ever pleasing to the One who so graciously brought us here separately and is now leading us on as one.