Sustainable First Steps
Frustration often leads us to make drastic, sudden changes—at least that’s my story.
I’m the woman who got so fed up with having kids not potty trained that I practically threw out every pair of Pampers we owned, just to eliminate the option. Without warning, our home became a diaper-free zone. It was underwear or bust!
I’m also the woman who (on more than once occasion) decided on January 1 to lose fifteen pounds, resolving to eat better, run daily, and consume more water. Each time, I came out of the gate strong: drinking three gallons of water, running six miles, and eating broccoli for every meal. But by day five, the running shoes had been shoved to the back of the closet and the water bottle was nowhere to be found.
Why do we do this? Instead of easing our way into a different way of being, we throw ourselves into the deep end of the pool—only to realize we are too out of shape to tread water and our pool is now full of pee because our kid wasn’t ready to live a Pamper-less life.
The thing about the change-everything-all-at-once method is that the transformation is not sustainable. Lasting change requires gradual choices we can maintain. The direction we are moving is far more important than the time it takes to get there.
In deciding to embrace a slower way, Ben and I knew we could not upend our family momentum all at once. The very idea of rushing into a slower pace is completely laughable, if you think about it. Yet, my first impulse was to quit everything, throw out all the screens, and say “no” even before being asked. And if I had given in, the whole concept of a slower-paced life would have already been tossed aside.
Instead, we are easing our way in and embracing a few new rhythms that lend themselves to less hurry. They’re not rocket science, but they make sense for our family culture and our season of life:
Rearranging our library into a sitting room. With all the chairs pointed at each other, we find ourselves actually SITTING TOGETHER. In the same room. Sitting and talking. A room that once housed our books has become a hub of conversation and gathering. It’s quickly becoming my favorite space in the house.
Beginning our work day with pour-over coffee and quiet. I cannot think of a better way to wake up than to hear the roar of the coffee grinder and to come downstairs only to be greeted by the sweet smell of locally roasted beans. Sure, it’s a little bougie. But Ben has told me that the movement and sensory experience of brewing slowly has allowed him to begin the day in a more settled place. Once the coffee is brewed, we settle into our places in the sitting room and sip quietly until the boys come charging downstairs.
Analog cooking. After years of pulling recipes off Pinterest, I am finding my way back to hold-in-my-hand cookbooks. Not only am I finding the process of selecting recipes more enjoyable, but also I am less likely to migrate to other apps on my phone while I make dinner. Instead, I enjoy the gentle rhythms of chopping and sautéing, of breathing deep of cilantro and lime. My mind is more aware of the cooking experience, and my body anticipates the meal that is to come. (Note: I’ve started with the Magnolia Table cookbook, but am open to suggestions as I rebuild my cookbook library!)
A return to reading nights. Several years ago, we were in the habit of protecting a few nights a week for reading and for conversation. It was glorious, but over time, we let the habit slide. While we’re still working out the kinks on finding the right screen-free nights, reading nights are making a comeback in our home, and the space to read, to engage our minds and imaginations, and to talk has already been breathing new life into our relationships.
For now, these simple changes seem to be enough to move us in the right direction, because they’re not only sustainable but also enjoyable. And isn’t that the whole point? To slow down enough to receive the God-given gifts that are already in front of us?
REFLECT:
What’s one small way you can embrace a slower pace in the week ahead?
Note: I’m taking a quick pause from this string of thoughts on slow living for the week of February 1, to allow myself some space to celebrate and to grieve what would have been our son Carter’s tenth birthday. Instead, I’ll be sharing a few words in honor of our son and his story.