Slower

Via thewheatfield

The pressure to compete was taught to me (and, I suspect, most little girls) alongside potty training and Bible Stories. Every Disney princess and fairy tale reinforced the idea that being good was not good enough; I had to be the best. No little girl wants to hear a story about A pretty girl in the land: she needs to be THE prettiest girl in all the land. The message was unmistakeable: your gifts mean nothing unless it beats out everyone else.

As I got older, this lesson manifested itself in how I lived my life and spilled out into every area. Now, it was not enough to be the prettiest. I needed to be pretty AND smart AND funny AND social AND a hard worker AND successful AND busy. Not only did I need to be all these things, but I had to do them better than anyone else. Otherwise I did not have any worth, or at least not very much. 

When I became pregnant I was surprised how this sense of competition increased within me. Every woman came to me to tell me how they only gained 17 pounds, did not show until 6 months along; how their skin glowed, they had incredible energy, and cared for their 11 other children. Next to them, I felt like I had to compete and prove had I had every bit of grit and determination that they had. Each antidote placed yet another burden on my back. It didn't matter that I had morning sickness and could barely lift myself off the bathroom floor; I needed to go to work and prove I am strong. Then I needed to make dinner, work out, keep the place clean, entertain guests and participate in ministry.

At lunch one day, I was told how one worker at the University worked until she left to go to the hospital to give birth. Now I was competing against a woman I had never even met and felt like a failure that I was breaking down at a measly 7 months. This led to a month of no breaks, endless overtime and taking on the most difficult cases.

I became exhausted, overworked and on the edge of breaking down emotionally. All because I felt a need to compete with the ideal Pregnant Superwoman that not only survives, but thrives, all on her own while growing a person inside of her.

And I gave out. First it was emotionally, with endless tears in the shower and prayers that I could find magical strength on my own. Then my body followed when that did not work. It was finally when I landed in the hospital with preterm contractions that the reality dawned that maybe I am not suppose to handle this all alone.

As I sat quietly before the Lord the next morning, His word came unmistakeable from the book of Ruth:

Sit still, my daughter.

There are times to work and be in motion and there are times to be still. How much of life do we miss out on in our rush to catch it? In my striving to be perfect, how many perfect moments have I missed out on? Instead of slowing down and taking some time to be conscious and thankful for this change of season, have I just sighed, ate another piece of chocolate, and gotten back to work, praying all the while that it be over soon? 

Now, I am heeding the direction. As in other areas of life, there are some women that are brilliant in pregnancy. I do well, but not near as well as them. And now I am learning that is perfectly fine. I do not need to shine brighter than everyone else. I am enough as God created me to be. The same is true for you, dear reader.