Anchored In Her Pace

A quiet celebration of slowing down, finding rhythm, and flourishing in the middle of life’s seasons.

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She’s the girl who likes
her tea served in fine china,
breakfast on an ornate silver tray.

She’s the girl who had a lie-in today,
the girl dressed in cozy linen,
walking barefoot around the house,
collects flowers from her back garden,
fills vases with wild blossoms.

A time ago, she was the girl
living at some other pace,
to some others’ expectations,
some others’ methods and ways.

She was the girl who lived hastened,
her pockets of time filled with demands plenty.
For far too long and lengthy,
until one day she woke in burnout,
realised all her air had been snuffed out.

She did not know how to find her pace.
She wandered,
wondering where her anchor lands.

So today looks different.
Today, she woke from a lie-in,
practicing some of her favourite ways:
the way of a slow morning,
the way of breathing deep,
the way of emptying out haste
with pockets of sacred time,
the way of her Creator’s grace,
set to a well grounded pace.

Like pauses that make music pieces profound.
Like simple things becoming
the quiet luxury of relinquishing striving,
the gentle practice of reconnection
to the beat and rhythm of her own.

So today,
she dresses in cozy linen,
walks barefoot across the floor,
collects flowers from her garden,
smells the roses and hydrangeas in wonder,
picks and plucks as some blossom in season,
watches and waits as others flourish
in real time.

She slows,
to listen to her rhythm.
She slows,
to notice the flowers
flourishing in their suited pace.
And she too
— is flourishing.

She’s the girl still firm in goals and pursuit,
yet trusting in her Shepherd and softer on life.
The girl fierce and striking in her blooming,
yet gentle and grounded with her soul.

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