Living in the Tension: A New Year’s Invitation to Slow Down
Slowing down at Nantasket Beach.
Some days, it takes everything in me just to stay present. I live by the ocean, but there are times I haven’t had the energy to step outside, hear the waves, or feel the sand under my feet. Instead, I stay inside, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, with coffee in hand and a purring cat on my lap. Who wouldn’t?
Slowing Down to Notice Life
Yesterday, I walked. The December air was unseasonably warm, and as I wandered along the shore, I felt an invitation to slow down. I realized how fast I was moving—my feet, my thoughts, everything. I noticed my tendency to live this way, rushing forward, focused on what’s next, trying to figure it all out. It’s a habit I’m beginning to see more clearly and one I want to change.
I slowed my steps and let the sound of the waves guide me. I felt the ground beneath my feet. I noticed my breath in my belly. I removed my shoes and socks and put my feet in the frigid water. Oh, my! That was burning cold. As I slowed down I wondered: How often do I miss the life happening all around me because I’m too busy striving for what’s ahead?
Standing in the tragic gap? Or just ice cold water!
The Tragic Gap We All Live In
This tension, I think, is one many of us feel—especially as professional women. We stand between what is and what could be—the tragic gap, as Parker Palmer calls it. For me, it’s the space between a job that’s ended and the uncertainty of what’s next.
Maybe for you, it’s a relationship that isn’t what you hoped, a career that feels stalled, or simply the sense that life should be different than it is.
And then there’s the broader weight we carry: grief for the climate, the state of our politics, or the suffering we see in the world. It’s enough to make us want to retreat, to hide from it all.
What Our Faith Teaches Us About Living in the Gap
As Christians, we know something about this tension. Ours is a faith rooted in the already and not yet—living between Christ’s resurrection and the fullness of God’s kingdom. We are called to keep our feet on the ground and our hearts turned toward hope, trusting that God is present even in the waiting.
We’re tempted to push forward, to fix, to achieve our way out of discomfort. But what if the invitation in this tension isn’t to do more, but to do less? To slow down, to breathe, to notice?
The Gift of Being Present
This Christmas has been a blessing for me. Staying home with my husband, cooking waffles and zucchini bread, knitting, and even going to CrossFit. Encouraging him to work on his dissertation while I cooked dinner.
These small, nurturing moments have been life-giving. But they didn’t happen because I was achieving; they happened because I allowed myself to be.
I wonder if this could be a New Year’s resolution for all of us: to go slower, to need less, to notice more. To be present with God, with ourselves, and with the people we love. Less “what if-ing,” less striving, and more feeling the ground beneath our feet.
And when we don’t get it right—because we won’t—what if we chose compassion for ourselves? What if we embraced the tension as a place to develop courage, presence, and faith?
A Simple Practice to Start the Year
Here’s a practice you might try:
Go for a walk, even if it’s just around your neighborhood or your house.
Walk slower than you normally would.
Feel your feet on the ground with each step.
Notice your breath.
Look around—really look. What do you see, hear, smell?
As thoughts come up, let them pass, and return to your steps and your breath.
This isn’t about fixing anything or achieving anything. It’s about learning to live in the tension of what is and what could be. And maybe, in the process, discovering that God is already present, right here, in the middle of it all.
If This Resonated With You
If this post resonated with you, I’d love for you to share it with others who might need this encouragement.
Whether it’s a friend navigating a season of uncertainty, a colleague reflecting on the New Year, or someone who could use a gentle reminder to slow down, sharing this message can be a simple way to offer them hope and presence.
Sharing this post would also mean a lot to me. If you’ve been wondering how to support my work or help during this season of transition, this is one way to do it. Your kindness in spreading the word not only amplifies this message but helps me continue writing and sharing with others who may need it.
And if you’d like to receive future posts like this, you can subscribe to my blog for updates and reflections sent straight to your inbox. Your support and encouragement keep me grounded, and I’m so grateful to have you along on this journey.
Acknowledgment
The concept of the tragic gap I explore in this post is inspired by Parker J. Palmer’s work on navigating the space between what could be and what could be.
If you’d like to learn more, I highly recommend reading his article, The Broken-Open Heart: Living with Faith and Hope in the Tragic Gap You can find it here.