Four zucchinis lounge on my kitchen counter awaiting their fate. Soon, they will be peeled, shredded, and folded into a batter of flour, sugar, oil, and eggs along with a sprinkle of cinnamon and a dash of vanilla.

Their sacrifice will be worth it: The aroma of freshly-baked zucchini bread will waft through my house carrying undertones of spicy cinnamon. When my kids return from school, instead of store-bought cookies and processed chips, they will be thrilled to discover the zucchini bread, more so because of the generous amounts of chocolate chips I’ll sneak into the batter. I’ve invited a neighbor over this afternoon and I’ll serve some thick slices of the bread to go with steaming cups of coffee.

When a recent writing prompt for an assignment included “your favorite place,” my mind skimmed the gamut of fancy restaurants and quaint cafes I’ve visited recently and then landed back on my all-time, hands-down, best-place-I’ve-ever-been-to location: my home.

It’s not that I have a perfect, Pinterest-worthy, Martha Stewarty house filled with fancy artwork and precious porcelain. It’s not even that I bake delicious treats daily so my house smells like butter, sugar, and vanilla (although, wouldn’t that be heavenly?). But home is the place where I feel rested and restored. It’s a place of calm and not chaos. It’s a place where I’m learning the art of slowing down and creating moments of stillness. It’s a place where I get to do little things that make my house a home.

At the risk of sounding like a housewife from the 1950s, I’m taking back the joy of creating a home by slowing down.

Some days that looks like gently folding in grated zucchini and waiting for the heat of the oven to turn it into perfectly golden brown bread. On other days it’s as simple as noticing the brilliantly pink bougainvillea sunning themselves on my terrace. Or just breathing in the aroma of my jolt-you-awake-strong coffee dripping into my trusty old pot.

In a world where busyness is viewed as a badge of honor, perhaps the old-fashioned, usually-dismissed, inconvenient, time-consuming things like folding the newly-washed sheets or whisking together a lemony vinaigrette for the salad (instead of squeezing it out of a bottle) teach us the art of slowing down.

So, this afternoon, I will bake golden zucchini bread from scratch. Maybe I’ll take a moment and straighten out the snack drawer so it is not a tumble of plastic jars. Perhaps I’ll wipe down a shelf and give some of those dusty plants some TLC. Maybe today I’ll just put my phone away and breathe. I’ll be still and know that He is God. When that truth is deeply implanted in my soul, I am at rest. My home becomes a sanctuary.

Friend, could I invite you to reclaim those quiet moments and simple joys in your home? Could we remind ourselves that we don’t need to rush from one appointment to another, from one to-do to another, from one text message to another?

Could we be intentional about creating those cozy, unhurried corners in our homes? Nooks where we can slow down and be creative or just immerse ourselves in a good book?

For far too long, I’ve been deadline-driven. But today, I long to be joy-driven.

To me, that looks like unhurried rhythms. A walk in the cold morning air even if my pace feels more like a stroll than a sprint. A deep dive into God’s Word. A long entry in less-than-perfect cursive writing in my journal about how He counsels my heart with His truth.

None of those things look important to the world. But those things nourish our souls and our homes.

So today allow yourself to be restored by a slower rhythm. Appreciate the process. Resist the tyranny of the urgent. Remember that your worth doesn’t lie in multi-tasking and checklists. Breathe a little deeper. Reclaim those things that make your house a home.

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A version of this post was first published on Indiaanya

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