“Hurry, Mama!” he cried as they filed into the elevator, certain the door would close before I could get there, separating me from them. I walked slowly down the wide hallway, enjoying the slow-paced Saturday away.
I tell them, “There is no hurry today.” They hurry anyway. Hurry has become a habit. They are afraid they will miss a moment of play. I am afraid I will miss a moment.
They got the cry of ‘hurry’ from me. I used to be the one who was the slow poke. I was often asked by my sister if I could move any faster than a snail’s pace. Somewhere the slow switched to hurry as I tried to keep pace with everyone else.
Not today. Today, we walk to the therapeutic pace of play and rest. We need to do this.
Play is a form of rest and rest brings relief. I sat and watched it happen with the kids as they played, transitioning from competitive play to cooperative play where they really enjoyed each other. I also go to sit back and enjoy them.
When you take time to rest and play, you will see the worry of hurry begin to fade away. (Tweet this!)
Today, we are leaving hurry behind.
When I was young girl, my grandma had a small plaque on the dining room wall of the old house that read:
The hurrier I go, the behinder I get.
I always loved it despite the atrocious grammar. Its intended meaning could be argued a couple of different ways, but ultimately, it comes down to the fact that something is lost when there is too great a hurry. I have never liked to hurry. I prefer to set my own pace, slow as it may be. I’d like to abandon hurry altogether and do away with the stress it brings.
As we walked back to the elevator, there was no frantic cry of ‘Hurry!’ We are experiencing the benefits of leaving the hurry behind. Embracing slow-paced days takes practice and patience, but the reward is worth it.
What do you see being sacrificed as you succumb to the need to constantly be hurried?