slowing down

and speeding up for what matters most

In the time since I last wrote to you, the internet was out at work for a full week (!!!), I accumulated an absurd amount of library fines, and I decided to move to Indiana for a Diocesan-level job.

That’s right, Rocco and I are moving! Please pray for us, we have a lot to do in the next month and a half.

One of the things I’ve noticed recently about Rocco, though, is that little buddy is slowing down. I find him sleeping in his toy bin way more frequently than I used to. He started actually sitting down a few hours into daycare. He quietly lays down in the car on our way home from work. He’s not a puppy anymore.

Honestly, I feel like I’m slowing down too. It’s now been 2.5 years that I’ve been dealing with serious mental illness. I can remember the very beginning of my symptoms and subsequent diagnosis, when I thought that I would only be dealing with this for a few months. I would get some therapy, maybe go on some meds, and that would be it.

Boy was I wrong. It was hard enough then, but now 2.5 years later, this is what I feel like.

Now, back to Rocco. One day last week, I walked into my office and Rocco was locked in his crate, presumably sleeping. Usually when I leave my office to run errands or have meetings, this is what I do. It’s a good set-up.

But as soon as I walked into the door, Rocco started whining. I figured he wanted to knock over my trash can or maybe chew at the feet of the chairs in my office. But when I opened the door of the crate, he just stayed right there. He didn’t fall asleep. He just watched me. It was adorable.

Later in the week, I decided to let Rocco run around the building at work a little bit. It used to be that when I did this, I would have to chase him around and out of trouble. This time though, I chased him through a couple of rooms and then he just walked around while I got some work done. When it was time to go back to the office, I said, “Rocco, come!,” little buddy came running down the hallway. He heard my voice. He knew it was important and he came alive.

Rocco doesn’t have as much energy these days to get into trouble (thanks be to God). But he knows what’s important. He knows my voice. He knows the sound of a treat bag. And he comes with great joy.

This has me wondering: in these days when I am so exhausted just with *gestures wildly to everything*, what moves me to come with great joy?

I’m excited by very little these days, but when I decided it was time to move, I was filled with energy. Since then, I’ve been filled with energy to get pieces in place for the move. I’m excited to work for the first time in a long, long time. I’m hopeful when I thought I had exhausted my hope.

Moving isn’t what has me excited. I don’t have an illusion that I’m leaving my problems behind. The job isn’t even what excites me. I certainly am not excited for lake effect snow.

What has me excited is the possibility of following the will of God and building the kingdom. Since leaving the convent, I’ve felt like I’ve just been passively going along with things. Actually getting to choose where to follow God (to Indiana, I guess), is life-giving.

What gives you life? Is it enough to get you moving even when you’re weary? If not, consider asking God to show you where He wants to lead you so that you can run to Him even faster than Rocco runs to me when he hears that treat bag crinkle.