Pausing doesn’t end correctly by concluding with a time of respite and reflection. Those are appetizers preparing us to be the people we truly crave to be. It isn’t all internal. It moves us forward, upward, outward. What do we become? World changers. Lovers. Friends. Those who forgive. Those who move on from past pain. Those who face whatever has haunted them, bend the knees to pray, let grace fill the room, and then stand tall as global thinkers, world changers, hope carriers.
Pausing long enough to be healed can move us toward a world-in-a-hurry. We can keep our internal restful pace while running the miles and climbing the trees and paying the bills and raising the kids. Instead of panicking when it’s time to leap, we’ve readied ourselves to dive into a land unknown. So we can dive as healed, forgiven, loved beings.
Sabbaths have then become part of life—whatever day of the week and whatever is on our schedules for those days. Solitude has been welcomed in our busy homes—even for a song, a story, a bath, a nap. Journaling is now our time of confessions—holding in our pain is no longer allowed. We can sing, we can write, we can watch, we can laugh, we can cry. We can love. We can find true friends who accept our true selves and tell no one else our stories. We can live in a community of fellow travelers all glancing out the window seeking to bring our healing to this world of pain.
Soft hearts and a few tears. Honest questions and deep confessions. Accomplishing much but refusing to be controlled by stress. Pursuing health for the right reasons. Helping yourself—regularly. Helping others—with secure motives. Learning to say no. Learning why you want—or, don’t want—to say no or yes or maybe. Learning the wonder of waiting. Learning we all are still learning.
Not letting an addiction control us—our own addiction, or that of someone else we love.
Gratitude. Gifts for others. Laughter and songs and journeys into the unknown.
Prayer—prayers of requesting and prayers of listening, prayers of worship and prayers of surrender, prayers with faith and prayers amid doubt.
Dealing with our pain instead of choosing denial. Avoiding avoidance.
Waving goodbye—but only when it is time. By choosing that journey of pausing, we can glance out a window and see life differently. Former views might have been a little more judgmental; now the observation through a lens of healing can notice reality while caring correctly.
Go ahead. Walk there. Stand. Stare. Think of what you see. Think of how the new you, the balanced you, the you-who-knows-how-to-pause can venture into a wild world peacefully, joyfully, successfully, securely.
While remembering, notice this: you are not alone. You are loved. You are able to do what seems to be impossible—not through your own strength but through the Creator’s creative work.
Glancing out the window today realize this: a world is glancing back. You can do all you’re instructed to do as you’re empowered by God. Yes, you. Yes, God. Yes, all things He guides you to do.
So, pause correctly. Often. As a lifestyle. And go. In love, in peace, in faith. Now. As a giver of good news to children and grandchildren, friends and foes and co-workers, the near and the far, go. Bringing the wonder of words, the wonder of smiles, the wonder of life.
I pray none of us miss the adventure.
From Chris Maxwell’s book, Pause for Moms. You can find out more here.
