walk with me
A few weeks ago, I mentioned I was having a hard time writing my new book and sticking with any kind of creative schedule. I also mentioned that my usual methods of buckling down Nike-style Just Do It! haven’t been working for me.
It’s tempting to feel untethered during a season of transition, of slowing down and trying new things, but I won’t give in to that doubt; I know that I am held by the Ultimate Creators—the Ones who made me and every story stirring inside me. They know who I am, where I am, and where I am going, and if They want me to slow down right now, then I’ll practice trusting in Their pacing.
I don’t want to be discouraged by my “lack of progress” when my word count isn’t flying through the roof. Instead, I want to savor each word written as a little victory, a tiny miracle, something worth celebrating.
This is a new chapter in my writing journey. And I’m only on page one.
A few weeks ago I went to Target because that’s where you go during seasons of change (only kind of kidding), and got myself a new notebook and a pack of my favorite black pens. I felt a little thrill as I held them, these simple tools full of possibility.
I took that notebook and those pens home with me and started writing a new scene by hand, which I hardly ever do. Normally, I’m a computer-loving writer; I love the sound of the keyboard clacking, how quickly the page can fill up with words, and how easy it is to delete delete delete when I don’t like something (and let’s be honest—I can’t live without spell check). Normally, I never write like this, with a pen in hand, sprawled on a blanket in my backyard or in the car waiting for school pickup. But sometimes we need to find a new normal, don’t we?
Handwriting forces me to slow down to an almost unbearably uncomfortable pace in which my mind must choose to accept where I am right now without rushing ahead to whatever comes next. It amazes me how even while my soul craves this slower pace, everything in my body fights against it. My shoulders are tense and my jaw is taut as my hand grips my pen, impatiently willing the words to just come faster already.
In short—handwriting takes too long, and that bugs me.
But isn’t this how God paces himself? Think about it: He’s never in a hurry. He always has the long game in mind. He’s steady and sure and unfailingly present. If His hands were holding a pen, His grip would be loose and trusting. He doesn’t rush the process.
In scripture, we read how Jesus walked everywhere, and it seems that He stopped more than He started. He wasn’t obsessing over the destination, He was in it for the walk. For the people and the moments and the lessons learned along the way.
Obviously, God knew far more than I did when He planted the name of this newsletter in my head last year; I love to see His sense of humor in the little details. Notice that He didn’t inspire me to name this newsletter the Weekly Sprint—and I don’t think that’s just because He has a penchant for alliteration (as do I). He gave me the idea for the Weekly Walk because He knew I needed to learn to walk. He knew I needed to slow down. He knew I would start this newsletter and end up taking a much-needed sabbatical from the frenzy of social media. He knew writing this next book would be different. He knew this new year would be full of growth and surprises and goodness I can’t even imagine yet.
He knew. He knows.
I hope as you read these words you feel a little more free to slow down too. To put down your phone and pick up your pen—whatever that means for you. The world is never going to stop telling you that faster is better, that more is necessary, and that you will never quite measure up so you better give everything you have trying, but we both know that isn’t true. There has to be another way.
“Walk with me,” our Lord invites us. “Come and see what I can do.”
Now that’s an invitation I just can’t refuse.
