Slow Steps

I went down to Ensenada, Mexico today with some friends to explore starting a photo project among kids in a community there.  Okay, some of them are going to do a photo project; I tagged along.  The purpose is to highlight the talents, hearts and perspectives of children in this community-- a human settlement established about 20 years ago.  The project would have kids doing basically the same assignment in several locations worldwide simultaneously.  Drawing them together in an exhibition will be fascinating and rich.

That's all incredible.  But what I thought about, as we walked streets so much like other settlement streets I've walked in Latin America, as we had conversations by front gates, as we let a community speak to us through its members, as we got to know a school director who really cares for his students and lights up at this opportunity, what I thought about was keeping my pace slow.  Literally.  I always forget that I'm an americana who walks like she needs to get somewhere.  Even when I don't.  This was the second or third time this week that I've needed to slow down to really walk alongside whoever I was with.

In that situation, I'm presented with two options.  I can either keep the pace that I like-- brisk and efficient-- and then pause periodically, or I can recalibrate and walk in agreement with my companion(s). 

Of course, I'm not just thinking about taking a stroll anymore.  =)  I'm thinking of ministry and partnership and my job and my lifestyle.  I'm thinking of the pastors I want to get to know, the people I might mentor, and the Jesus who walks with me.  I'm thinking about the agreement of walking together with God (Amos 3:3).

What if here were the only place I needed to get to?  And what if that covenanted companionship was the wonder and joy and goal?  Of course we'd still be going places.  It would still stretch my legs and expose me to smiles and sunlight and tears and tricky footing.  Yet, it would go at a pace that quiets my mind and settles me into the here and now so that I may hear and do with new faithfulness and trust.

That kind of sounds like a nice walk.