I am not always a huge fan of Sundays because they come right before Mondays, right before the busy of another week. Despite that I’ve realized Sundays are kind of a beautiful thing when they become a day for slowing down. They are that inhale before the pressing through of another hectic week.

And I know.

I know I need to slow down more often. I need to find time daily to rest, be quiet, and express gratitude for all this grace.

The grace of crisp Autumn air, blushing trees, raindrops on windshields, hot tea, warm sweaters, laughing friends, sweet kisses, steaming oatmeal, and hugs. I’ve been so grateful for hugs lately.

It’s taken me this Sunday without a to-do list to realize how busy I’ve been.

Things have just been crazy. Eight Nuts BANANAS. I feel like I’ve been a humming bird dashing here and there at a million miles an hour. But I’ve also learned that just because you feel yourself moving faster doesn’t really mean you’re moving all that much.

And I’ll be honest.

It’s hard for me to just take a breath and slow down.

And I realized today that’s because I have made myself busy on purpose.

Behind this organized facade of a woman who seems to be running her life smoothly is a girl who is flat out running away.

Running from the quiet, from the solitude.

Running from ME.

I’ve been afraid to be alone with myself.

And I know I’m not alone in not wanting to be alone.

So I’ve been walking around all day wondering why do we do that?

Why do we fear those moments of peace where we have to face ourselves?

Is it because we know we’re the one person we can’t fool?

We like to pretend we’re alright but deep down we know we’re not. And in the roaring silence when we’re left with only ourselves, that’s when we have to face it all. We have to face the bruises and scars and how broken we are. And maybe we don’t want to look at it because we’re afraid we might be stuck this way. We look at the mess and the lies we’ve believed and sometimes we doubt whether every wound can really be healed. We look at how far we’ve fallen and sometimes we wonder if His love really can redeem ANYTHING.

So maybe we believe that racing around will help us race past the problems.

But it doesn’t.

So if you’re feeling like I’ve been feeling, exhausted and empty and about to have a quarter life crisis…

Just STOP.

Just stop and come back to the God that’s been pursuing you and let Him grab your face and take a breath of His outrageous grace because, girl: He loves you. Scars and all.

So just stop trying to earn that and slow down a bit.

Because when you’re speeding around you don’t just miss the scenery, the beautiful moments in front of you, you also loose track of what the crap you’re doing, where you’re going, and WHY.

Worst of all you’ll be passing by and missing all the little snatches of grace God has placed in your life.

And when we miss them, we miss Him.

So take this Sunday to stop. Breathe and embrace life to the fullest. Embrace Him.

Embrace GRACE.

I am laying here on our trampoline. I am listening to the thunder and watching the rain fall. I like just laying here, letting the rain drench everything. It washes off the dirt and brings life to our flowers.

Sometimes I wish I was a flower. I wish the rain could soak through my skin and into my soul and wash everything away. Wash all the memories and mistakes and put out this flame of shame that still sometimes burns inside me. I wish life and growth were that easy for this mess of a girl.

But I am so much more complicated than a flower.

 

And thankfully God’s grace falls so much heavier than these Summer rains do. And most of the time I don’t even see it but God seems to have His way of wringing out my life to show me how much grace I really have soaked up. And its no fun getting twisted and tightened but sometimes that’s the only way you even realize what you’ve got.

My favorite time is after the rain has stopped. I like walking around and looking at reflections of the street lamps and car lights bursting out of the muck like fireworks.

Beauty from ashes.

I like looking into the puddles that reflect buildings and people and perfect snatches of the sky.

And maybe that’s when we reflect His love the most, when we let our pot holes fill with grace.

And in the morning when I wake up early to a world that has soaked in all the rain, I smell it. That smell of the morning that comes with the rising of the sun. That smell that feels like new mercies and second chances. That smell that is fresh and makes you feel so alive. That smell is always there in the morning after a rain, after the grace.

And I think that must be what HOPE smells like.