Fast

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Fast.

Immediately, the dual meanings of this word bubbled up for me. I thought of impatience and impulsiveness, of wanting things to change fast… right here, right now without engaging deeply in the long slow work of true growth and transformation. I thought of the fast-paced nature of the world and how I can feel so out-of-sync with it (and because of it), how at times I feel as if I spin in circles from the overload.

As I was wondering about fasting from fastness, I gazed up from my comfortable chair, across the room at my husband, seated in a recliner next to his walker. He has recently had significant surgery and has been laid way low for over a month now. Slowing down has been a true fast for him, giving him permission, perhaps, to set his own busyness aside, to allow grace to happen, healing to occur, and to receive help and care from others. None of these more receptive qualities have been aspects of his more typical nature. He has been a perpetual mover, a doer and a helper. .

It seems sometimes we are slowed down in order to fast. Forced to take a break from our usual ways of moving through life, we are set free to discover who we might be.

I moved the walker across the room, beneath the floorlamp (for the light it cast), to shoot the photo. The open book in the basket beneath the lamp was coincidental. But hey, who am I to name in which realm coincidences lie?

 

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