Minnesotans like to joke that we have two seasons: winter and road construction. This often means slow driving conditions year-round. Lately, due to my prolonged grief journey, I’ve felt like my life has been wavering between two seasons: sorrow and an elusive sense of normalcy. This has resulted in everything slowing down. Grief is a contradictory experience of time seemingly continuing at top speed with its own agenda while bereavement slows personal life to a crawl. With each additional unexpected loss that has impacted my family over the past year, grief has compounded into an all-consuming slowdown journey.

Processing this slowdown feels like being in a thought traffic jam: my brain has seemingly applied the brakes since I can’t move forward on the usual route, but turning away from the anticipated plan and trying to navigate a detour feels impossibly out of the way. Sometimes, I pause and wait for the path to clear so that I can move forward. This idling can make the days feel interminably long and utterly draining. Other times, I take the detour over the bumpy back roads. The alternative route, unsurprisingly, is cumbersome, because nothing about grief is straightforward. The uncertain, narrow passageways seem to require countless unplanned stops in order to reflect, process, and mourn, thus further extending the duration of my journey.

However, sometimes the detour offers an unanticipated path toward healing. It is the strangest experience when I come across surprising beauty in the midst of my slow plodding. Beauty that catches me off guard because it appears in the most desolate of places, during the darkest and heaviest moments. Like the rose bush in the front yard that suddenly blooms despite having produced no flowers for months, as if signaling a message of hope from beyond. Or the wildlife that appears out of the blue, lingering close by as if sensing sorrow and wanting simply to offer a quiet contribution of peace. Seemingly small and insignificant signs take on increased importance in the search for hope and healing. Sometimes having been slowed down by grief, it’s easier to pick up on the subtle hints that gently redirect the heart toward peace. I have often wished the path forward was obvious, the detour clearly marked, but grief doesn’t work that way. And, in the slowing down comes the opportunity to travel all the roads, learning, relearning, stopping altogether as needed.

When I share that the grief journey slows life down, I am distinctly aware that this goes against the prevailing preference for life’s typical speed. A quick internet search provides countless articles on following three or five quick steps to achieve instant results to overcome every conceivable issue or struggle. Simple solutions and immediate answers are prioritized, instant feedback and quick progression to the next step is craved. Slowing down really cramps the pursued approach for dealing with life. Prior to this season of grief, I found myself buying into this push for everything to be fast. I had developed a tendency to move through my day at a breakneck pace. Many days I hardly slowed down to take in what exactly I was doing, I often just ran on autopilot as I frantically attempted to accomplish all my to-dos, trying my best to incorporate techniques in efficiency. I needed constant reminders to slow down and live into the moment, rather than simply plan for and anticipate the next thing. I needed constant reminders to simply be.

As a way to better integrate more being into my life, I have incorporated quiet time into my daily routine. Despite my relatively consistent practice, I still find myself almost rushing through the very time I’ve dedicated to center myself during this season of slowdown! I catch myself thinking that if only I could just be more productive with my limited quiet time, I could efficiently process various emotions, store up rest and renewal and more quickly achieve a new level of inner peace. In the midst of my quiet time in my slowdown season, I still need reminders to simply be.

Even though I’m still learning how to move forward in this slowdown, over the past year I’ve also noticed a change in myself. I’ve reflected on how my grief journey has forced me to refocus on the daily basics and evaluate my priorities, giving me a renewed perspective on how I spend the minutes in my day. In a strange twist, grief has reminded me to be more intentional about how I spend my time. This current journey is far from over, I’ve learned that grief operates on its own pace. But I’m learning to extend grace to myself in the slowdown. “For One Who Is Exhausted, a Blessing” by John O’Donohue, a poet and priest, was shared with me recently via https://onbeing.org/blog/john-odonohue-for-one-who-is-exhausted-a-blessing/. The following is a compilation of excerpts that especially spoke to me as I continue to navigate this slowdown in life’s pace and continue to search for peace through it all.

When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,
Time takes on the strain until it breaks;

…You have been forced to enter empty time.
The desire that drove you has relinquished.
There is nothing else to do now but rest

…You have traveled too fast over false ground;
Now your soul has come to take you back.

…Gradually, you will return to yourself,
Having learned a new respect for your heart
And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

Wendi is co-author of The Unexpected Ever Afters blog and enjoys sipping extra hot coffee, sharing a love of reading with her kids, and exploring bike trails.

photo credit: personal photos