We all have those days when we simply don’t want to parent, work, or do what we need to do. We’d prefer to get up and go for coffee with a friend, take a walk, curl up with a good book, or binge-watch our latest favorite show … in our pajamas.

Sometimes when my alarm goes off at 6:00 AM I hit the snooze button until the exact moment I know that if I don’t move then everyone else will be late for their day. I throw the covers back and start the process of getting the kids to school. 

And if it’s a really bad morning, I’ve been known to drive to school wearing a baggy sweater covering my pajamas, and always pray “Please Lord, may I not get into any car accidents before I’ve had a shower.”

I’m [too slowly] learning to recognize these moments as a warning that I need to slow down the pace of life, rest, and, just maybe take a nap! 

And I find it so hard to do …  to be still, to enjoy the peace that comes when it’s just the dog in the house with me. Instead, I come home and push forward to get chores done, tackle the ever-present laundry mountain, work (well, that’s essential), or whatever else is on the must-do list. 

Yes, there are moments we need to push on through. But what if just once during the week we chose to actively rest, to pick up our bible and journal, to look through the kitchen window and notice the leaves turning from vibrant green to hues of orange, red, and yellow … or even to drink our coffee or tea while it’s hot? I thought as my kids got older that I’d return to the delight of a hot cup of tea in the morning. Somehow, I still only manage it on rare occasions. 

Even this morning I took my dog, Bingley, for a walk and purposefully left my phone at home so that I could try to quiet my mind. My pace seemed to match my thoughts and we set on a swift march toward the park. As we arrived, though, Bingley halted my pace to take his morning sniff around the bottom of a sycamore tree. 

At that moment I looked up into the golden hills that surround my home. Cows that looked like dots covered the landscape. Birds sang their morning song. And a lantern that our family has unanimously decided should be in the next The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe movie were all in my line of sight.

God whispered, “Where does your help come from?

I immediately responded, “I will lift up my eyes to the mountains,

Where does my help come from?” 

My help comes from the Lord,

    the Maker of heaven and earth.” Ps 121: 1-2 

“Where does your rest come from?

“Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matt 11: 28

And  … Are you coming to me?

With all the thoughts twirling and swirling around my brain, they suddenly quieted as I realized I didn’t have to do the day alone.

Jesus is with me in the laundry.

Jesus is with me as the kids argue on the school run.

Jesus never leaves me … Whatever. I. Am. Doing.

He’s ever present.

But I also have to choose to rest. Rest is an action. It’s a decision. 

Yet … I, not he, had made the habit of pushing on through. And as I stared at the unchanging landscape, it was as if he was reminding me that I had the option of a stop button. 

As a mom, it’s the hardest thing I struggle to do. I’m wired to be attuned to every need of the people in our house. 

I came home, moved to my office where it’s not cluttered by daily family life, and snuggled onto the couch. In that moment, I scheduled a last-minute lunch date with one of my closest friends and picked up a book. 

How we take rest differs from person to person. Rest is not always a nap or sitting on the sofa doing nothing. Sometimes it is. Rest is what allows us to quiet our minds from the daily thoughts, worries, and stress. Rest is not a once-a-year vacation. Rest is what feeds us––time with God, a slice of cake, a cup of tea, a run, time with family and friends. Rest is what restores us to a place where we can serve those that God has called into our lives.

A love letter from God …

Dear lovely one,

This is your permission to stop for a moment and to look out the window. What do you see? This is your permission to switch your phone off and focus on being present with your family. This is your permission to reach for the book you want to finish, to snuggle under a blanket, and to sip a warm drink. This is your permission to open your bible and read my word. It speaks life into who you are. And this is your permission to look at your calendar and work out where you need to plan some rest.

I see you, my beloved; I love you.

And I am with you always,

Love, God