Dear God, deep inside me is a quiet space that you have built. I become distracted by all the competing tasks and demands unfolding all around me. Hurry. Perform.
My attention darts from object to object; I kick up a whirlwind of panic.
Lord, let me move slowly. You are speaking to me inside that quiet space, and my running footfalls drown your voice.
I perversely run from you, when your sweet voice would instead give ne peace. Let me act no more swiftly than will allow me to hear. Slow. Ease.
Let me slowly do your will.