Jodi Palmer (7).png

The  hustle of a hurry makes us hurt.

I tend to race the clock. There is something easy about planning everything out. But in that, there is not room for moments to pause. It is easy to get caught up in the commotion. Getting to the next thing without fully entering the thing in front of me.  

Every summer, there is a group that returns to Guatemala with an agenda. Even though this agenda is made with love, sometimes the hustle can get the best of us. On our last morning of camp, time stood still.


What seemed like a waste of time turned into a time filled with purpose.  As I looked around the room, there was a low buzz of silence. The roar of the summer breeze encompassed the brick based room. There was paper being torn followed by the clack of the marker lid. Giggles bounced off of the cement floor and filled the room. Sweat filled our palms, making it hard to grasp the marker. Each girl tenderly colored in silence. In each stroke, color was added. What if we just stopped? Stopped in the chaos of life to return to the simplicity of a moment. 

I cannot think of a single advantage from being in a hurry but a multitude of missed things.

This was a moment I did not want to miss. We easily could have quickly ended this time. Going down to Guatemala, we are pressed for time. We try so hard to fit everything in five days; have deep conversations, share the gospel, but what we tend to forget is the unplanned moments. What we really want is enough time. Time for deep belly laughs and time to see creativity and time to listen, time to see Him in the gentle touches of the girls and just enough time in the humid summer day to not feel hounded, pressed, driven, or burdened to perform.

All these girls desired were moments to slow down. To forget what was happening back at home and step into a creative realm. They yearned for someone to just stop and color with them. They wanted someone to join together with them in turning something mundane into something beautiful. Because we gave them this opportunity, they practiced community. These women were vulnerable. They laughed at the Gringos as we attempted to speak in Spanish; they asked questions that were hard to answer. Where we shared the markers, we also shared in suffering. This exact moment was what they longed for. A moment that is instantly degraded was highly praised.

In that particular moment, the slowness of living, turned into a greater sense of fullness and satisfaction. This time, our souls were filled, over pouring in the simplicity of life. 

Dear friends, I urge you to slow down. Several weeks ago, my mom made the comment that I was running around too much. Those words were not meant to guilt me but warn me. My mom's tender words ring in my ears as I say them to you. Slow down dear one. The last thing we would want is to miss out on an unexpected joy. What would that look like for you? 

courtney wetzel