I don’t know if I ever really take the appropriate time to have a heart of gratitude towards a season life until it has already passed.
I get caught up in the thought process of, “when this happens then I will be _________.” I never find myself thinking of the present, being grateful for what and who is in front of me at the moment. I’m always thinking about what is next. Even when I’m eating breakfast I’m like, I wonder what I will have for lunch…?
But, how do I even practice slowing down when we live in a world that is constantly on the go? Our human nature is ingrained with how to keep up, not how to slow down, take a moment, sit and focus on what is good.
About a year ago, someone challenged me to write down three things every day that bring me joy. And every couple of weeks, when I get the chance to sit down and reflect on what is bringing me joy in my world, I have a consistent answer- slow mornings. I love slow mornings, but they are so rare. Waking up without an alarm, no agenda of a place to be, drinking coffee out a real mug, not a to-go mug. Those are the best for me. I have better days when my mornings are slow to start. Because I have taken time, time for myself, with God, with coffee, and nothing requiring my attention except what is in front of me. I’m a better version of me those days. But time doesn’t set itself aside. I have to do it. I have to make it happen. Be intentional and disciplined to not be out the door, on the go, getting in the cycle of constantly moving towards the next hour of the day.
So, how do I do it? How do I be present? There is so much goodness in my life right now. First year of marriage, in the second year of a job I love, creating community with young, married friends, appreciating family more than ever, living in our second one-bedroom apartment. These are some of the best times. The times when life stages seem so new. I don’t want to miss it while wishing I was on the other side of it. I never want to go through the day-to-day just getting through until the next stage comes. I want to appreciate what is right in front of me. I want to embrace figuring it out. I want to trust the process when it seems like I have no idea what I’m even doing. No one writes a manuscript for your twenties. I have nothing to go off of except for my own experiences and those around me.
I hope that when I look back on where I am in life right now that I am able to say, with confidence, even though I had no idea the right answer or what was to come, that I had a heart of joyful gratitude embracing it.