The Slow Road to Fast Relief

Newcomers to the area around the DC Beltway tell me that life seems much more hectic here. The only way to catch a break from the constant traffic jam is leave earlier and drive faster. The most obvious way to reduce a ten hour workday is to use a Blackberry or Smartphone during your commute and after you arrive at home. And there are so many other things people want to cram into their lives- shopping, working out at the gym, taking the family out for a fun evening- that nearly everyone seems to be constantly dashing from one commitment to another. And I suspect the same thing is true of many other cities and metro areas,

Last week after I returned from Zimbabwe with a heavy heart, Jonnel and I realized we needed to decelerate. We stopped by a restaurant we'd been wanting to visit, and settled in for a leisurely meal. The place was not crowded that evening, so the wait staff were especially accomodating. We looked at photos from Africa and I shared details from the last five years that I have never mentioned before. She got to ask questions she'd never asked before about friends whose names she's heard for years.

We spent nearly three hours there that evening. We enjoyed talking about our children, our family, our plans, and how great the food tasted. By the time we finished dessert, it's true that our waistlines were slightly larger. But that overlapping, shared area of our two lives was larger as well. And my heavy heart was much lighter.

The experience of slowing down was so refreshing that we tried it again last night. The evening was cold and rainy, and the television was wall-to-wall with election news. Living so close to DC, we live and breathe politics 24-7. For a change of pace, we lighted some candles, played some quiet jazz and experimented with a couple of new recipes. We ate slowly and talked about details of our day. Then we picked up our Bibles, put a phone call from my son on "speaker," and talked about the mysteries and truths of Romans 7. It's a powerful yet controversial passage, and we all came to agree on God's message to us. And I'll bet all of us remember that practical conversation for the rest of our lives. An unforgettable conversation is a rare treasure.

Industrial reports indicate that Americans are extremely productive. But research shows we are anxious, disconnected, and discontented. By contrast, in stricken Zimbabwe with no food and few consumer goods, my friends move more slowly but with a great deal of laughter and hope. In their vast need, they have discovered a luxury many "rich Americans" can no longer afford: the joy of the moment.

The heavenly father instructs us: "Be still and know that I am God." I confess that I need to do that more often.