Walk a Little Slower

What a privilege it was to have Tanner Olson for our NYC conference devotions. In his second talk he read the following poem, published in his book Walk a Little Slower (which can be purchased on Amazon or — more cheaply — from his website store).

Walk A Little Slower

I think today I’ll walk a little slower and breathe a little deeper.

I’ll leave my phone face down, inside, and
give my eyes a rest to see beauty beyond a screen.

I’ll grab a light jacket so I can still feel the cold wind, hold your hand until it gets sweaty, and I’ll let go, but I’ll never let go.

I’ll walk below and between shadows, cut through the field, cross the street when the cars clear.

Today I want to find myself beneath the limbs of the trees and later on below a few million stars.

Maybe we’ll see a dog or bump into old friends or both.

I’m not counting steps or miles, but I’m just walking because for now …

I can.

And I don’t know what the future holds, if my days left are long or short or, well, you get it.

Maybe grief is around the corner or a missed call on my face-down phone back inside.

Maybe there is good news in my inbox or a miracle waiting in the welcome of next month.

In the morning, I’ll sit a little longer and drink a little deeper.

I’ll watch the light make its way through the dark morning.

The light always finds a way.

And I’ll remind myself life won’t always look the way it does.

Change is coming, and it might even be here.

I’ll remember the steps forward and the steps back that led me to where I am and before I begin to move these feet once again, I’ll slowly breathe in grace and exhale peace, knowing that every piece of me is here to be.

And whatever may become, well, for now,
for now, I’ll walk a little slower and breathe a little deeper.

Because right now, I’m alive.

And everything is okay.

It’s not perfect, and that’s okay.

And that’s what I’m learning to tell myself these days.

Everything is okay.
It’s not perfect, and that’s okay.