Why I Stopped Waiting for Life to Slow Down
The other day, Ethan and I sat down to talk through our schedule for the year. “Do you think it’s too full?” I asked, reflecting on January, which already felt like it was bursting at the seams.
“No, I don’t think so,” he replied. “Every item we have scheduled has intention and purpose.” Then he added something that stuck with me: “God has given us breath in our lungs. I don’t want to waste time. I want to be a good steward of what He’s given us. Besides, what else would we be doing?”
His response made me pause. I tend to evaluate our schedule based on how much breathing room I feel like I have, while he sees it through the lens of stewardship. Are we using our time wisely? Are we investing in things that matter?
We gather regularly with the church—not just because it’s a biblical command or part of Ethan’s job, but because it strengthens each member of our family. It’s a habit we formed long before he became a lead pastor. Church is where we are shaped, encouraged, and reminded of the eternal picture. It’s where we pour out and are poured into. (Our church is intentional with its calendar, never filling dates just for the sake of it, but structuring Sundays, Wednesdays, and additional gatherings to build upon one another for the edification of the body.) Every activity is rooted in God’s Word.
Jiu jitsu is another commitment in our schedule, but it isn’t just a sport for us. It’s an avenue for reaching our community, fostering discipline, and building resilience. It teaches self-defense, grace under pressure, and perseverance. More than that, it’s something we do together as a family—training side by side, learning, growing, and even laughing through the challenges. And one part I love most is the discipleship I see happening as families from our church gather alongside us.
Then there’s the rhythm of hospitality. Some months, we have the capacity to open our home for fellowship, inviting others in to share meals and life together. Other months, we’re the ones being welcomed into the homes of friends, experiencing the beauty of receiving as well as giving. This ebb and flow of community is a gift, even when it fills up the schedule more than I expect.
January felt packed.
February appears to be slower.
But even in the busiest seasons, Ethan prioritizes quality time as a family.
I realized I need to let go of the mindset that says, “When things slow down, then I’ll…”—because sometimes life slows down, and sometimes it doesn’t. Some days call for spirit-led spontaneity. Some days plans are cancelled. As much as I desire a regular rhythm, life is inconsistent. Waiting for the perfect moment of rest or margin can cause me to miss the purpose of the season I’m already in.
That same day, during homeschool, we read about John Calvin, who, according to historical accounts, only slept four hours per night. The rest of his time was spent studying, writing, or preaching. When a friend encouraged him to rest, he responded, “What! Would you have the Lord find me idle when He comes?” I immediately laughed at our busy schedule—which looks nothing like his.
Later, I picked up Sally Clarkson’s Seasons of a Mother’s Heart and read this:
"Every day, God extends His hand to offer me the gift of another day to live. I have the choice to take that gift and turn it into 24 hours of real life in Christ, or just let it become another 24 hours lived in a broken world. If I choose to accept it—to transform those minutes and hours into life lived for and with my Savior…”
That last line struck me. Living in the presence of God for the glory of God is less about activity and more about heart posture. Left to my own devices, I’d probably choose more rest (if I’m being honest, more laziness) than I need. But submission to His will in all things changes my perspective on rest entirely.
True rest isn’t found in an open calendar but in abiding in Him. Sometimes that means sitting with a cup of coffee in one hand and my Bible in the other. Other times, it looks like listening to Scripture or an edifying book while folding laundry. Or it’s discipling my kids. Or pouring into another woman. There are countless ways to live each moment with purpose.
All of these moments—this conversation with Ethan, this homeschool lesson, this passage in a book—came together to shift my perspective on time.
I don’t want to merely make it through another day. I also don’t want to carry the weight of overwhelm, always looking to the next season as my relief. I want to see the greater vision. To embrace the work God has placed before me with joy. To trust my husband with the stewardship of our family’s schedule. To use wisdom in every “yes” or “no.” To model a life lived in response to God’s goodness towards His children. To recognize that full days can still be fruitful days. And to not squander the pockets of time when life does slow down.
Because at the end of it all, we are not promised tomorrow. And that makes today—full, slow, or somewhere in between—something worth stewarding well.