Slow

(Sorry, folks, I'm waxing thoughtful and verbose tonight. Hope you can bear with me.)

In a contemplative moment tonight, I have been thinking about the concept of slowness. Today I was talking to an acquaintance from church about Clara, and she mentioned she has a grandson with autism. In continuing our conversation, I asked her if she was aware that Clara had developmental challenges, possibly Asperger's or something along those lines. She said, "Well, I knew she was slow like [another of her grandchildren]." I didn't think anything of it until later and thought that it was interesting that I wasn't offended by her saying that Clara was "slow." I know that I've heard through the years someone being described as "slow" as a derogatory remark, often associated with someone being retarded or something like that. But it does describe Clara because it's true.

For the record, Clara is slow. She walks slowly, she runs slowly, she thinks more slowly, she answers questions more slowly (typically), and nearly everything takes longer for her, particularly anything involving motor planning and learning new skills. When she was younger, I frequently carried her because it took for-ev-er to just walk out to the car from the house, partly because she is easily distracted, and partly because she is just slow. I'm not saying she's not intelligent; she's very intelligent. I'm just saying her movements and thought processes tend to be slow. (I'm not going to go in to all the reasons here for her slowness.)

This year I have been trying to make a concerted effort to not carry her as much and to allow her to do things on her own, like getting dressed, for example. This has been difficult for me, because I am not slow. I like to hurry. I like to do things fast. I can talk fast, sometimes so fast that I'll start too many thought threads and then have to back up to finish them one at a time. In so many ways, I'm the opposite of Clara. I like to read books so fast I skim just to get to the end--even (and especially) if it's a book I love. Clara likes to read books over and over and over again. Michael and I talk about how we need to slow down when we eat--it's like we're in a race against the clock and the food will disappear from our plates if we don't consume it in 90 seconds flat. Clara is not too slow when it comes to eating--perhaps that comes from me. I like to get things done--do do do do do. Check it off my list. Check check check check . . . ahhh, I feel my day has been productive.

A quote from Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin has really stuck with me:

"Sometimes we feel that the busier we are, the more important we are--as though our busyness defines our worth. Brothers and sisters, we can spend a lifetime whirling about at a feverish pace, checking off list after list of things that in the end really don't matter.

That we do a lot may not be so important. That we focus the energy of our minds, our hearts, and our souls on those things of eternal significance--that is essential" (emphasis added).

And in Julie B. Beck's talk, she says, "Mothers who know do less." Why is it that I think that getting stuff done = high worth, or being in a hurry = being important or productive? A wonderful talk was given in church on Sunday about patience. The speaker commented, "Heavenly Father is never in a hurry." Indeed, Acts 10:38 records that Jesus Christ "went about doing good," but do you think he ran through the streets, touching all who needed his healing power and scurrying around trying to do all that he could? The idea seems even irreverent. No, he walked among the people. He spent time with them. He helped those who needed it as he went along. And Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us that "to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven."

The poem I quoted a year ago still sticks with me. We live in Holland over at our house. At least, Clara does. Sometimes I think I've still got my bags packed, waiting impatiently for the next plane to take us out of Holland and to glamorous Italy where most moms I know have gone.


But what exactly is so bad about being slow? In fact, there are innumerable things that are done more effectively if they are done slowly, like eating. Or lifting weights. Or speaking. Or driving (within reason). Or studying the scriptures. Or praying. Or breathing, for goodness' sake. I'm not saying there aren't benefits to being quick or fast, because sure, you've got to build those fast-twitch muscle fibers. Watching a slow basketball game would certainly take some of the interest out of it. And yes, taking a fast shower (which I do, to which my roommates can attest) saves water.

But I guess much of our culture and society isn't wired to the way of slowness--an employee can't even bag groceries slowly or people (myself included) get impatient. It seems unfortunate to me that so much of school is timed--"Okay, class, time's up, hand in your papers." For me, I reveled in the challenge of the time limit; the anxiety and stress were just impetuses (impeti?) to strive for greater academic greatness. I'm hoping Clara will get to use the "special ed" card and take her tests more slowly in school. I'm hoping she can find a job that will allow her to be more methodical and deliberate in her thinking.


I'm hoping I can learn to be more like Clara.

And you know what? I know how I can do it: preparation.

You might know that scripture, "If ye are prepared ye shall not fear." If I'm prepared in the morning, I won't be rushing Clara to get dressed. If I'm prepared for dinner, I won't be rushing Clara out the door to get Michael from school. If I'm prepared for the tasks of the day, I will live in the moment and enjoy Clara, instead of waiting impatiently for the art project to be done so we can do something else. Check check check.

Don't get me wrong--I think there is a place for speed. But the wise old tortoise was right:

Slow and steady wins the race.