Consider Your Season
Years ago, after my husband and I had come out of a chaotic season and were finally enjoying a little more calm, I asked my counselor, “Why do I still feel so tired?” Our kids were sleeping through the night. I was able to exercise somewhat regularly. I finally got back into my cooking routine (for the most part, anyway). We were no longer functioning in survival mode.
But I was still completely exhausted.
“It’s like you just ran a marathon. At the end of a marathon, you’re still tired,” my counselor told me.
Duh. I should have known this. But sometimes you need to pay a therapist to remind you of the obvious.
My first book launched into the world a few months ago. My husband had surgery a month later to repair a torn Achilles. School let out a few weeks after that, which meant all my kids would be home all day, every day. Summer is full of joy and fun and s’mores and grilling and trips to the pool. While there are plenty of hard moments, I can honestly say life is also good and beautiful. But also…it’s a lot. And I am tired–physically, but also creatively.
I started pursuing book writing in 2017, and for six years, I’ve been wandering along the winding road of publishing. I’ve taken detours I didn’t expect, I’ve slogged through the emotional swamp of rejection, I’ve fueled myself with coffee so I could hit a deadline. Now, I would like to plop myself onto a proverbial bench and put my feet up for a while.
Yet while I want to rest and refill creatively, doing so feels unproductive. I see other authors talking about writing their next book no more than twelve seconds after they released the last one. I hear about opportunities for guest posts and articles, and I don’t want to miss those chances. What if I say no? Books won’t sell themselves, and so don’t I just have to keep hustling?
Maybe. But also, in some seasons, maybe not. Maybe I can set down some expectations. Maybe I can say no to non-essentials. Some work has to get done no matter how I feel, of course. I need to do my job and honor commitments. Yet that required work aside, what if I let myself be creatively tired without guilt and without comparison? What if I spent time refilling, making space for input instead of focusing so much on output?
My dad has often said, “Minister from the overflow.” I don’t have much of an overflow right now, and it’s only been recently that I’ve felt like I even have a few drops in the proverbial bucket at all.
I want to be writing and speaking for the long haul, if that’s what the Lord has for me. But in order to do so, I need seasons of rest and renewal. Not every season will be “productive” in the most common sense of that word. Sometimes, the ground lies fallow. Other times, we water and tend, plant or prune.
For the last year, I’ve been in a publishing season. You could even call it a harvest. Years of work has come to fruition, and I get to celebrate and savor what has taken so long to plant and grow. But after the harvest, after the race, my soul feels tender and my body needs care and my eyes could use a little more sleep. And I’d be remiss if I wrote a book on rest and then didn’t accept God’s invitation to practice it.
With four little kids and a loud dog to care for, rest doesn’t necessarily include sipping cocktails on the beach with my husband (but I won’t say no if that opportunity arises!). Yet rest can still be found in small ways as I learn to surrender my life, expectations, and plans to a God who will carry me until the very end.
Those small moments of rest add up to life spent resting in the goodness and sovereignty of God. And I don’t want to miss out on that.
I don’t know exactly what rest will look like during this next season. Our family life is full to the brim and there’s no shortage of tasks to accomplish. But I do know I’m going to read fiction and study Scripture and play at the pool with my kids and soak up long summer nights. I know I’m going to set some unnecessary expectations aside. And I know I’m going to try to do what God has asked me to do in this season–and nothing more.
As you think about your own life, consider the season you’re in right now. What could rest look like for you now?
We’re in this for the long haul, friends. Take care of yourself along the way.
This post was adapted from a piece originally shared with the Exhale Creativity community.
