Heart and Slow

bekah General Leave a Comment

Last night I had a dream about a text exchange. With whom, I’m not quite sure. At one point, he or she responded with “heart” and “slow” but it came out all red hearts.

And I woke up thinking about those words: heart and slow.

When I live from my heart, it’s genuine. Authentic. And when done slow, it’s intentional, deliberate, with consideration.

My natural response, though, is to live reactively. Impulsively. Quickly. Spontaneously. Passionately. Loudly. (Can you feel the anxious crescendo?) In bursts of speed and fast responses.

This season of surrender is teaching me about how to live from the heart. Slowly. Honestly. Vulnerably. Confidently. 

As I pause to hear God’s voice and find a comfortable rhythm- one free of rush – I no longer strive to match the tempting whir of everything else out there.

Life lived from the heart is a life freely given away. In the simplest, most beautiful ways.

Heart and slow.

I mean, can you think of one relationship or action that makes a difference if the heart isn’t central?

Marriage? Nope.
Passion? Parenting? Creativity? Nope.
Sure, we can work and achieve and check the boxes, but if our hearts aren’t in it, we may as well be robots.

Like when my boys are too rough and someone “accidentally” gets punched and the other one “didn’t mean to” call his brother “a poop face.” Sure I can make them apologize but if their hearts aren’t tender and sincere, transformation is near impossible.

Transformation invites a heart to be so entrenched in the core of His Spirit’s, that where His begins and mine ends is but a breath.

Heart and slow.

I’m still sitting in the significance of this dream, and it’s got me asking all sorts of questions:

What’s going on in my heart?
What’s it secured to?
What source is it dependent on?

Am I rushed?
Am I purposeful?

Do my feelings match truth?
Does my cadence connect to His pace?

Heart and slow.

At the end of the day, it’s about the heart.

About how the heart conveys love.

About slow transformation.

Like little seeds coming up when no one is watching.

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