We live in a world that moves fast. Faster than our souls were ever designed to travel. Most of us wake up already behind — scrolling before we’ve even looked outside, rushing through the day, multitasking our way to exhaustion. Somewhere along the way, we’ve mistaken movement for meaning.
But there’s another rhythm available to us. It’s quieter. Slower. Truer.
When I stop long enough to pay attention, I start to notice the simple beauty in the ordinary. The sound of birds when the kettle boils. The light shifting through the window mid-afternoon. The way conversation feels when no one’s glancing at a phone. These are small moments — but they’re the ones that actually make a life.
Slowing down isn’t about doing nothing. It’s about doing what matters with your whole attention. It’s about allowing space for wonder to return. It’s giving yourself permission to be human again — to breathe, to listen, to notice what God is doing right in front of you.
Every time I pause, I hear that familiar phrase echoing again: “Let there be…”
It’s more than the start of a story — it’s an invitation.
Let there be light in the way you see.
Let there be sound in the way you listen.
Let there be ease in the way you move through your day.
Let there be presence.
Maybe the most creative thing we can do in a world addicted to speed is to live unhurried. To be fully present — here, now — in the moments that actually matter.
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