Have you ever noticed how many ways the idea that we are rushing through life seems to show up in how we talk about our days or our lives. We refer to life as the rat race, or we use terms like racing around, running from place to place. We say we are running late or that we are always rushing around. We describe driving to and from work as rush hour (even though there is more standing still than rushing). It seems we have developed an idea that life is a game to be won but only if we are willing to race through our days.
Now while ancient Greco-Roman philosophers often used racing terms, including life as a marathon, their focus tended toward the idea of trying to create a good or moral life. Likewise, many early Christian writers, especially those in the New Testament, used similar imagery in their letters to fellow believers: there are clouds of witnesses, there is the striving for imperishable crowns contrasted with crowns that don’t last, and running the race of perseverance and the race set before us. In these examples, the idea of life as a race is a bit different—it is focused more on purpose and effort and not so much on the frenetic pace we have adopted in our more modern interpretations of life as a “rat race” where we are desperate to “keep up” with the Joneses.
We are a people who are spread pretty thin and we end our days exhausted only to get up and do it all again. There is always something to do, somewhere to go. We have developed a hustle culture and we are always on the move. Personally, I find this approach to life exhausting. Given this perspective for how many of us tend to live our lives, is it any wonder our teenagers feel a sense of weariness, a sense of pressure to move through their lives in this same way? If you’ve ever watched the 1980s movie, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, you may be familiar with one of its most famous quotes from Ferris Bueller: Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
He’s right. Life moves pretty fast and we have managed to speed it up to go even faster. Perhaps this line is so memorable because it pierces through our always-on-the-move personas and strikes our heart with its truth. It’s like a rallying cry of the ancient Gospel writers and Greek & Roman philosophers, calling out to us to slow down. To look around. To drink in the beauty and the wonder and the possibility that surrounds us. And I, for one, am willing to take them up on their advice. For several years now, I have opted to slow our family’s pace, to build in pauses and downtime. In other words, I have chosen to adopt the idea of the ancient Christians and see life’s race as a marathon. As more of a journey focused around intention and purpose and possibility.
That’s one of the reasons I love having the opportunity to unschool our girls. Despite that they’ve internalized the idea that hitting a certain age translates into having to have life all figured out, I have been assuring them that such concepts are nothing more than arbitrary ones created at a different time. I remind them regularly that 18 is not a magic number that means they have to move out of our home or head to college or a job or know what they want to do. As we move through our unschooling days, I tell them about my experiences and how I wish I had done some things very differently. To the best of my ability, I am defusing the sense of urgency that has wound its tendrils around them and am instead introducing them to opportunities to explore and even play, like we all used to do as children who didn’t feel rushed or compelled to hustle.
Slowly, I see this slower pace taking root in them and I love watching them consider and explore ideas. I love giving them the freedom and the opportunity to be curious and to wonder what they might want to do down the road. Recently I had an opportunity to chat briefly with a fellow homeschooling mom and we talked about the ways our neurodivergent kids’ school experience not only didn’t allow them to be who they are created to be, but it didn’t allow them the breathing room to discover their talents, abilities, passions, or skills. Because our kids didn’t fit the expectations of the school system, their learning styles were not fully explored. She and I agreed that once we brought our kids home, they were able not only to thrive but to begin understanding who they are and who they want to be.
And here’s the thing. While I appreciate the Ferris Bueller movie quote, I don’t think stopping and looking around only once in a while is enough. I think we owe it to ourselves and the people we love to slow down and to take time for what matters. Because teenagers are the only ones who deserve the opportunity to explore and contemplate and discover (or rediscover) our passions and talents and the direction we want to take next. Life is messy and can be challenging, but it also invites us into its beauty and wonder and possibility. That’s definitely something I want these two remarkable young women to revel in as often as possible.