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Thursday, August 8, 2013
The Wisdom of Slow
It’s been five years since The Mother of the Cottage said, “Yes,” to the Lord of the Heavens and opened her home to The Three Little Girls.
Time. Where does it go? In those five years, I’ve moved from my early forties to the later. Fifty is approaching. Fast and furious. Crazy!
And the girls are growing. Growing in stature. Growing in trust.
They didn’t trust us when they came. Nor should they have. I knew this going in. Each reaction, each day, was going to be a test. And sometimes I passed. Sometimes I failed. I knew in my heart of hearts that as much as I wanted to be a healing balm, I am not the Healer. I would add my own flaws to the mix.
I pray they are few.
My husband’s exam was even more challenging. He had to go slow. Slow to speak. Slow to react. Slow to touch. Father figures weren’t safe.
So he went S.L.O.W.
And one day he received his blessing for slow.
The eldest, she saw much, experienced much. The protector of her little sisters. The eight-year-old mother.
We were hanging out on the deck of my sister’s vacation home. Playing a game. Our older kids doing their thing. Acting out words, so others could guess.
That’s when I witnessed his blessing—the A on his exam.
And it took my breath away.
She was giggling. A joyful, no holds barred moment. And just as naturally as all my kids, she forgot her reserve and hopped up on his lap, her arms surrounded his neck.
And, for me, time stopped … just long enough to capture a memory.