Caring: Choosing to Slow Our Pace

As a child, I loved Cream of Wheat. Before I served it to my young children for the first time, I told them of its wonders: its soft, sweet texture, and the fact you could slurp it up through a straw. I placed steaming bowls in front of them and watched them dig in, spoon in one hand, straw in the other. Much to my surprise, dismay and confusion distorted their faces.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Lumps,” they mumbled. “They’re kind of hard to . . . chew. And it won’t come up the straw!”

At the time, my husband was working two jobs. I worked part-time and felt the strain of raising our three offspring largely on my own. My attempts at relating to my children were often, sadly, like my attempts at making Cream of Wheat—hurried and not very palatable.

After the deaths of my grandmothers, I navigated a good deal of soul-searching, which led me to realize both women had left behind something of incalculable value. Their tireless efforts had created a legacy of devotion and caring both inside and outside family circles. What legacy would I leave? My life had been one of trying to prove myself, of being hard on myself; I hadn’t always been patient. I came to discover that taking proper care of a family—and making Cream of Wheat correctly—require loving attention and care.

Fear of not measuring up to the expectations of the world can cause us to enter a cycle of hurry and impatience. Choosing to consciously slow our pace so that we can contemplate the individual needs of family members and friends can have a lasting impact.

Love and nurturing can’t be rushed.