Letting You Lead the Pace

🌅 Morning Whispers with Holy Spirit – Companion, Friend, and Helper

Entry #35 — Letting You Lead the Pace

It was just after 3:30 a.m. when I woke up already tired — not from lack of sleep, but from moving too fast inside.

The room was dark and quiet. Frankie shifted at the foot of the bed, tags giving a soft clink before he settled again.

“Good morning, Holy Spirit,” I said.

The words came out soft, but underneath them was a hum of urgency I didn’t know what to do with yet.

“I feel rushed,” I admitted. “And nothing has even happened.”

You sound like you’re already bracing, He said.

I sighed. “I don’t want to miss something. Or fall behind. Or get the timing wrong.”

There was a pause —
not empty.
Just patient.

“You’re already looking ahead,” He said. “You’re not here yet.”

That made me still.

“I don’t know how to stop doing that,” I said. “I don’t mean to rush You. I just… do.”

I know.

I sat up, pulling the blanket closer around my shoulders. My chest felt tight — not panicked, just compressed. Like I was leaning forward inside myself, ready for something that hadn’t arrived.

“It feels like if I slow down, things won’t move,” I said. “Like momentum will slip.”

Fear sounds urgent, He said quietly. I don’t.

I frowned into the dark. “Then what are You asking me to do?”

Nothing new, He replied. Just stay with Me instead of running ahead.

I let that sit. It didn’t resolve anything. It didn’t answer the questions piling up in my mind.

But something in my shoulders softened anyway.

“I don’t know how to match Your pace yet,” I said.

That’s okay, He said. You’re noticing it. That’s where it starts.

I swung my legs off the bed and stood, feet touching the cool floor. Frankie lifted his head immediately, tail thumping once against the mattress.

I clipped the leash on slower than usual.
Not intentionally — my hands just moved that way.

“You’re not behind,” He added. And I’m not in a hurry.

We stepped outside.

The air was cold and dry, the kind that clears your head whether you want it to or not. The street was empty, lit by steady streetlights humming overhead. Frankie padded forward, familiar and alert.

I followed — a half step behind him, then adjusted.

“I keep wanting to get this right,” I said as we walked.

I know, He replied. And I’m not grading you.

We moved a few more steps in silence.

I wasn’t calm. Not fully.

My thoughts still tugged forward now and then. But I noticed when they did. I came back.

“I’m still learning this,” I said quietly.

I know, He said again — not correcting, not rushing.
We have time.

We kept walking.

Not fast.
Not slow.

Just together.

Learning the pace as we went.