Psalm 46:10 "Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted in the earth."
This is what I saw. And this is what I learned.
I was sitting on an almost comfortable examination table. My feet dangled just inches above the pull out step that had helped me reach my perch. The nurse practitioner read off my info and surprised me by stating that I measured at 5’4 ½”. Really? I thought I’d stopped growing five years ago. I had never measured over 5’3” in my life. 5’4 ½” and my feet still wouldn’t reach the metal step.
The problem with the world, I decided, is that it always wants you to be bigger and taller than you are.
At that moment, I felt very small. As he continued to read off the info, I looked down at my feet, feeling sheepish. Then, my eyes traveled across the floor to his feet. The rest of him was dressed in typical Seton blue scrubs. But his feet- they had on lightweight hiking shoes and Aztec print hiking socks. I suspected they were the only things about him that were truly “him.”
I wondered at that moment who the world had told him he needed to be. Had it told him to be taller, stronger, or smarter? Had it told him to get a medical degree and work at the clinic so that he could help people? Had he heard that he was supposed to make something of himself, to not waste the opportunities he had? Who was he, really? Before I had even begun to address my own questions, he came to the end of his and we were moving on.
Quickly--move on. Keep going. Don’t stop.
What if I slowed down? What if I stopped altogether? Who am I when I’m standing still? Who are each one of us? Without our hustle and bustle to fill the empty spaces, we seem lost. We’ve defined our identity by our pursuit of more. More stuff, more achievements, more people, just more. Without our constant movement towards more, do we truly know ourselves?
I didn’t learn very much about the nurse practitioner at the clinic in the grocery store, other than the fact that he has fun socks. But, I did begin to think. At a time in my life when everything and everyone is telling me to speed up, I feel the need to slow down. As I’ve thought more about it, it’s begun to seem hilariously imperative to stop and ask people where they got their socks and why they wore hiking shoes to work. Those may not seem like important questions, but I have a hunch that they are. And slowing down may be the only way to find out.
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