Slowing Down This Summer

Written By Jessie Thompson, LMSW, LCSW Lasting Peace Counseling

It is finally summer here in northern Michigan. As much as I have looked forward to the sunshine, I've also been longing for something else: to slow down. To lessen the chaos. To breathe a little deeper.

But if I'm honest, this summer has been anything but slow.

Once again, I find that I've overscheduled myself, my family, and my kids. My calendar is full, my mind is racing, and I'm running a little crispy.

I've learned something about myself over the years. When life becomes too full, I slowly lose sight of God. Not because He moves, but because I become too distracted to notice Him. I miss His voice. I miss His leading. My soul begins to ache for Him in ways I can't quite put into words.

I don't always recognize it right away.

Instead, my body tells me first.

It shows up as sadness or a heaviness I can't explain. Sometimes it even feels a little like depression. It shows up in my lack of patience with my children, in the tone I use with my husband, and in my inability to slow down long enough to truly connect with the people I run into.

Author and counselor John Eldredge refers to these warning signs as our "barometers." Just as a barometer measures atmospheric pressure and signals when a storm may be coming, our souls often have barometers that let us know something isn't right.

For me, it's the pressure building in my heart. It's the subtle shift that begins to threaten the relationships that matter most. And honestly, thank God for those barometers. Without them, we could spend years living mindlessly, neglecting our souls while unintentionally damaging the people we love most.

In this season, the relationship I've watched take the biggest hit is the one with my 14-year-old daughter. We've been arguing more. I've been more critical than I want to be. I've missed sacred moments when she wasn't asking for perfection or advice, she was simply asking for me.

I've noticed that when I allow the world to take over my schedule, I become more aware of the mess around me than the hearts inside my home. The dishes. The overflowing trash. The dirty counters. The toys scattered everywhere.

Instead of seeing my children's emotional needs and quiet cries, I see another task that needs to be completed. Nothing, and I mean nothing, hurts my mama heart more than when God gently reveals this to me.

It makes me stop and ask myself a hard question:

How am I revealing God's love to my children?

Because the first experience our children have of God's love is often through us.

Let that sink in.

Am I showing them a God who is distracted?

A God who is too busy?

A God who doesn't have time to stop, make eye contact, and listen?

If that's the picture my children are seeing, it's a lie.

That is not the heart of our Father.

Every child longs to be seen, to be heard, and to be known to be delighted in. Especially our daughters.

They don't need us to have a perfectly clean house. They don't need every errand completed or every item crossed off the to-do list. What they need is for us to stop the constant rushing, set down the phone, leave the dishes in the sink for a few minutes, and look them in the eyes as if nothing else in the world matters. Because, in that moment, nothing else does.

A few weeks ago, I realized just how disconnected I had become from God. I couldn't hear Him. I couldn't sense His presence. I felt lost, even though I knew He hadn't gone anywhere.

So I finally stopped. I sat down, prayed, and simply asked Him to speak. And He did. The picture He gave me wasn't one of disappointment or frustration. He simply opened His arms and said,

"I've missed you."

I've thought about those words over and over. The Creator of the universe, the One who holds billions of hearts, oversees the oceans, commands the wind, and sustains every living thing, stopped everything to remind me that His greatest desire wasn't my productivity.

It was my presence. He wasn't concerned about my dishes. He wasn't asking why the laundry wasn't folded. He wasn't disappointed that my counters were cluttered. He just wanted me.

What if that's what our children are longing to hear from us too? Not, "Did you clean your room?"Not, "Hurry up, we're late."Not, "Why did you leave this mess?"

But simply...

"I've missed you."

Maybe slowing down this summer isn't about doing less just so we can feel less stressed. Maybe it's about creating enough space to notice the people God has entrusted to us and to notice the God who has been patiently waiting for us all along.

This summer, my prayer is simple. 

"Lord, slow my heart before You slow my schedule. Help me notice You. Help me notice my family. And help me remember that the greatest gift I can give the people I love isn't a perfectly managed home, it's my presence."