God Never Asked You to Live This Fast

This past weekend, I went away on a little writing retreat with a dear, old friend who now lives in Charleston. It was exactly what my soul didn't know it needed.

We talked.

We ate delicious Thai food.

We exercised.

We drank good coffee.

We slept in.

We perused Target.

We wrote.

Mostly, we exhaled.

We sat in our own quiet writing spaces, side by side, and just… breathed again.

We ended up talking a lot about pace.

About how, between motherhood, writing projects, work, family responsibilities, and trying to take care of our own health, we’re both realizing how desperately we need to slow down. To be choosy. To stop rushing. To be present.

We related.

We encouraged each other.

We laughed about it.

We shared resources.

Because we’re both extroverted visionaries with big ideas and full calendars, andddddd a growing awareness that burnout is not a badge of honor.

That weekend reminded me of something I’d been forgetting:

Life isn’t meant to feel like a sprint.

We live in a culture of races.

We race to work. We race to the school pickup line. We race through the grocery store to grab something--anything remotely healthy--for dinner. We race through the must-dos of the day: wipe the counters, fold the laundry, unload the dishwasher… again.

It’s exhausting.

This past November, I remember hitting a point where I felt like if I had to race to one more thing, I might actually pull my hair out in the Costco parking lot. I decided then that something had to change. In the new year, I had to slow down.

Everything couldn’t be an emergency.

And the truth? It wasn’t. It just felt like it was.

We, women, are especially good at turning everything into an emergency. Our bodies keep score for it, too. Elevated cortisol. Disrupted hormones. Insulin resistance. Hair shedding. Irritability. That short fuse we swear “came out of nowhere.”

Our bodies remember what our minds try to ignore.

You’re exhausted. Of course you are.

I don’t know if you need this reminder today, but I’m going to share what I keep telling myself: You are just a person. From dust you came. To dust you will return. (Genesis 3:19). As much as our world tells us otherwise, you have limitations. You have to drink water, or you will die. You have to sleep, or you will die. You have to eat food, or you will die. You are just a person.

That deadline? It’s not eternal.

That form you forgot to sign? It does not cancel your motherhood.

That friend coming over? She doesn’t care about your baseboards. She just wants you.

You’re still a good mom. You're still faithful. You're still loved.

You’re exhausted. Of course you are.

And then there’s comparison.

We scroll.

We observe.

We quietly measure.

Her kids are in three sports. She makes her food from scratch. She volunteers. She works out. She somehow still looks rested. How is she not tired?

Meanwhile, you’re trying to nourish your family well… while running on fumes.

And suddenly, just existing feels like falling behind.

What happened to sitting on a porch and talking?

What happened to showing up messy?

What happened to connection over performance?

You’re exhausted. Of course you are.

We also live in a world of constant access.

Breaking news.

Weather alerts.

Amber alerts.

Texts from Instacart.

Notifications from work.

Reminders from apps.

Algorithms telling us to “be consistent.”

Our phones never sleep.

No wonder we’re tired.

You were not designed for this level of input. Your nervous system never signed up for it. Yet the apps are designed to be addictive.

You’re exhausted. Of course you are.

Want to learn how to crochet? YouTube.

Paint a realistic sloth? Tutorial.

Cook tofu five ways? AI’s got you.

It’s helpful. Truly.

It's also… a lot.

Information is everywhere.

Rest is rare.

You’re exhausted. Of course you are.

The other night, I was sitting on the couch, rubbing Maybelle’s head—my sweet Sheepadoodle...and it hit me.

She’s present.

Dogs are so wonderfully, unapologetically present.

No five-year plan.

No anxiety about tomorrow.

No guilt about yesterday.

Just here, now, in this moment. And full of gratitude.

Gemma wrote recently about gratitude, and she’s right: gratitude and anxiety cannot coexist. They are oil and water.

And this “hurry up, do more, achieve faster” culture is costing us something.

It’s costing us our peace.

It's costing us our health.

It's costing us joy.

You’re exhausted. Of course you are.

Maybe, like me, it’s time to practice saying “no.”

No, to overextending.

No, to proving.

No, to pretending we’re limitless.

You are human.

You have boundaries.

You were never meant to do it all.

That was never the assignment.

You’re exhausted. Of course you are.

It does take a village.

You need help.

You’re allowed to outsource.

You’re allowed to decline good things.

Every “yes” costs you something. Maybe it's the right yes, but maybe it's not.

And yes, Christ poured Himself out.

But nowhere did He ask you to pretend you are God.

It does not all rest on you.

You’re exhausted. Of course you are.

You cannot pour from an empty cup.

You must rest.

You must Sabbath.

We must slow down.

This pace is unsustainable.

These days, when a friend tells me, “I can’t,” I applaud her.

A good “no” is maturity.

It’s wisdom.

It’s self-awareness.

A no might mean:

“Yes to doodling with your child.”

“Yes to breathing.”

“Yes to a walk in the sunshine.”

“Yes to slow coffee with your spouse.”

“Yes to your own soul.”

Sometimes, no is holy.

And listen:

You are not loved more by God because you’re busy.

You are not loved less because you stepped back.

You are not failing if you choose wisely.

You are loved. Period.

Let Him guide your yeses. Let Him free you from guilt. I'm learning to stop and pray before my yes comes out.

I’m done with guilt.

So this year, I’m choosing presence.

I’m choosing gratitude.

I’m choosing to live like my dog—honest, attentive, thankful.

Not perfect.

Not impressive.

But full.

However that looks for you, I hope you choose it too.

May you slow down.

May you breathe.

May you remember:

You don’t have to earn your worth.

You are enough because you are.

XoXo,Catherine

Baby Maybelle and little Vada because they are both just so cute!