I pressed my back flat on the metal disc and wrapped all my appendages around the vertical bars. “Spin me,” I shouted, and my dad spun the merry-go-round as fast as he possibly could. The wind whizzed past my ears, and I felt the same calm I feel now near a waterfall, when all sound becomes absorbed in the silence of that rushing water. As Dad spun, I laughed and laughed.

Some days, now, I long to do that again (except that now I’m probably get nauseous, alas) – just hold on tight while life spins around me and I laugh. Now, though, it seems that I am the one to keep things spinning.


In those years when I could just go along for the ride, my life seemed divided into three distinct sections – school, church, and work. I could count on being in one of those three places or with people from those three places at almost any moment in my life. I took great comfort in that simpleness.

On days like today, when I have meetings and lots of driving and still the normal load of work I have taken on myself, I crave those simple days when life was just three things.

I’m beginning to actively work toward that simplicity again. I’d love for my life to consist of writing, faith, farm, and one volunteer activity. (I’m an adult now – I think – so maybe I can manage a fourth category.)

As an introvert, I love people but get very quickly tired by all your loveliness, even online. So I need this simplicity to be effective in what I do. I need lots of down time by myself to recharge. Some people, it seems, take energy from being around others, and sometimes, I wish I was built that way – but I’m not. I need most evenings at home with just some quiet music, a book, a movie, time in the garden, or some sewing.

To get what I need, I’m going to have to give up some of what I want.
And some of what I don’t want but do because I feel obligated to do it. The transition will be a little rocky, I think, but it will be worth it.

This move to my farm (still can’t believe I can almost say that definitively) will be the perfect opportunity to slow this life down a little, to enjoy the feeling of riding the merry-go-round instead of spinning it.

The farm will be named “God’s Whisper,” after the verse in 1 Kings 12 where Elijah has to stop and stand still to hear God’s voice in the smallest of sounds. It’s hard to hear that sound when you’re running frantically in circles. But I sure can hear it when I just lay back and listen – it sounds like the whisper of wind or waterfall.

It’s the sound I hear when I write.