Last Tuesday evening, I picked Harlow up from Kids Club.  It was late, she was loopy, and I was ready to get home.  I was hurried and quick — knowing we were way past bedtime as it was.  As I was scooping Harlow into my arms, her teacher hugged her goodbye and said, “don’t forget your memory verse!”  To which Harlow replied, “I wif you always.” {Matthew 28:20}

I stood there, a bit stunned, and thanked her teacher for reminding her about this verse.  We practiced it a few more times as we walked out to the car where Andy was waiting.  Taking a bit more time than usual, all the while hearing my list-loving-self, “hurry up! it’s late. Got to get her home and in bed, because you have a lot to do tonight.”

Quit hurrying, Kacia.

I was hit with the harsh reality that I hurry and rush our already too busy lives.

Slow down.  See the small things.  Notice the little.


Sunday morning, late for church once again.  Small argument, little frustrations–why always on Sunday?  Met with an angelic voice as I opened the front door, I made my way downstairs to drop Harlow off in her classroom.  I joined Andy, and we found a few empty seats.  Distracted.  My afternoon to-do list running through my head, battling the desire and need for a day of rest, a day of calm–a day of deep breaths and peace–knowing that today it wouldn’t happen.  Maybe next week.  We’ll start next week with the peace and calm…yes, next week we’ll figure out a way to schedule it in.

I don’t remember the song name or anything else, but I remember hiding my tears as Kassi began to relate God’s love for us to that of a mother’s love for her child.  In the same way that it is my privilege to care for Harlow–loving her in obvious ways, but also through simply caring for her and her needs–cleaning up messes day after day…

He does the same for me. 

As I wonder some days, “where are you, God?  Why?  How will I get through the day?  How do I make sense of what this world offers?  What this world gives?  How?”

I move on to the next item on my list–not waiting for the answer.  Not listening.  I hurry along to the next project or person or text or email.

Quit hurrying, Kacia.


I’ve noticed that over that past few months, I’ve kept things very tidy and neat on this ‘ole blog.  I don’t open up and share much about myself very easily — in person or here — but I know that isn’t a realistic or true picture of my life.

I haven’t spoken about how often I cry about silly things like a messy house, never ending toddler tantrums, or just the weight of balancing it all.

I certainly don’t share about my tears over the big stuff.

I haven’t been sharing about our adoption journey– I haven’t brought up how scared we are, how much I’ve learned through this process–how not in control I truly am.  

I tell myself, “I’ll share when it’s complete.  I’ll share when I’ve figured it out and have some sort of wisdom to give.”

Just let’s get past this interim stuff — let’s hurry and get to the finish line.

Quit hurrying.  Quit hurrying.  It’s what I hear as I rush, rush, rush.



I’m realizing more and more that I struggle even sharing my current stuff with Him.  I want to make it pretty first, I want to package it up in a Pinterest-worthy box.  I’ll sort it all out, straighten it all up, pull myself together….and then I’ll lay it at His feet.

I know it doesn’t work that way.

So I’m slowing–trying not to rush, but giving myself grace when I do.  Grace when I hold on desperately instead of letting Him bear the burden for me.

Quit hurrying, child.  Quit hurrying and rest in me.


Linking up with this gal.





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