What do you do in a slow season of life?
I’ve heard them called the lazy days of summer, yet when my kids were growing up, summer felt anything but lazy. We ran from swimming lessons to ball games. Sports camps, church camp, Vacation Bible School, and weightlifting filled the calendar. Summer was full of fun, but it was anything but slow.
My daughter recently reminded me of a challenge I created for my children. As a former teacher, I didn’t want their learning to come to a halt just because school was out. I also wanted them to learn responsibility and contribute around the house. They completed school-type activities and household chores, marked their progress on a chart, and earned a prize when they finished. It added value to their summer, but it certainly didn’t make life any less busy.
I’ve always been a go-getter. Whether through work or volunteering, I’ve found ways to pack my schedule with activities, projects, and accomplishments. Some might call me an overachiever. I’ve always preferred to think of it as being a good steward of my time.
So, now I find myself in a season of slowness, and it feels strangely unsettling.
A slower pace has a way of exposing things I don’t notice when life is busy. I start feeling like I’m not being productive enough. I get antsy and immediately look for something to accomplish. More than that, it reveals how tightly I’ve tied my sense of purpose to productivity. When there is less to do, I question my significance and wonder where I fit.
But this slower season has also shown me something unexpected.
When life moves at a frenetic pace, much of my time is already spoken for. There is little room to intentionally choose how I spend it. In a slower season, however, I receive the gift of deciding what deserves my attention and who I want to share it with. I have more space to enjoy my own company, to notice the quiet, and to embrace the simple moments I often overlook.
I’m not entirely sure what to do in a slow season of life, but maybe that’s the point. I’m still figuring it out, one quiet moment at a time.