Sam's Story
Sam's Story - Finding Rest
 
‘What do you do to replenish yourself, Sam? What are the things that make you feel restedand restored?’ 


The first time Kerry asked me this question, she might as well have been talking a foreign language. I was a stay-at-home mum with two small children; a husband involved in church youthwork (don’t even get me started on Sundays as ‘days of rest’), and I was utterly convinced that the very last thing I could afford was to take some time out for myself. The very idea felt (a) selfish; (b) frivolous; (c) logistically impossible, not mention the fact that I didn’t have the faintest idea of what the answer to her question was. Somehow, in the exhaustion of sleepless nights, the relentlessness of nappy changes and laundry piles and keeping everybody fed, and my (I now realise slightly manic) obsession with keeping the house ordered and tidy, my sense of self had started to beat a hasty retreat. I was now, first and foremost, ‘mum’, and therefore ‘on call’ 24-7. The thought of needing, or, heaven forbid, wanting a break from my responsibilities, my children, or my husband was simply unthinkable to me. If such thoughts entered my head, I hastily and guilty swatted them away. What kind of mum wants time out from her kids? The fact was, I was desperate for rest, but the thought of taking any felt at best like a fantasy and at worst an act of supreme self- indulgence.
I’d permitted myself ‘study / retreat’ days at Kerry’s house occasionally, and loved the head space that gave me, the opportunity to focus on my sermon prep or toddler group planning or that book I’d really been meaning to read without any of the day-to-day distractions that are an inevitable part of life with small people. Even the act of allowing myself to go away to work felt like an incredible, self-indulgent treat. And then one day, Kerry suggested that perhaps I could join her for a rest day.

I felt a mix of feelings at the thought of this: a heady combination of longing, guilt, excitement and uncertainty. How could I justify a day of ‘doing nothing’? Wasn’t that really unfair on my husband? Would it be worth the extra work beforehand? How could everyone possibly survive without me? I was, after all, indispensable.
At the time I was having these conversations with Kerry (and myself) I lived a mere 20- minute drive away from her; so ‘going away’ for the day hardly constituted an epic voyage.Now, I live a three-hour drive away, and I regard my ‘rest days’ as an essential part of myrhythm of life (and book them in the diary well in advance)! It’s been a ‘long walk to freedom’ for me … But it has been *so* worth it! I love the feeling of driving up to that front door, leaving my to-do lists behind, and being in a place where no-one needs me (a rare andwonderful thing for a worn-out mum!) 

It began with baby steps, and to begin with, I had to fight for my rest days. The first few times I had a date booked in with Kerry, we had some kind of domestic ‘emergency’ which scuppered me and stopped me from going. But, with Kerry’s encouragement, eventually, I made it to her house to ‘rest.’ And slowly but surely, the work of healing my worn-out mind, body and soul began. 
I wasn’t sure how it would feel, or what to do with myself, that first rest day. But the fact is, it was bliss from start to finish. At Kerry’s home, I allow myself to stop, to breathe deeply, to find rest for my soul.

And slowly, I’ve learned to rest again. I curl up under a blanket by a log fire and greedily devour novels I have wanted to read for ages but haven’t felt able to pick up. I borrow my daughter’s colouring book (thanks, Miriam!) and ‘play’ with lovely sharp colouring pencils (I’ve always had a thing for stationery)! I nap. I stare out of the window and enjoy the silence. I watch films in the middle of the afternoon. I stay the night, and sleep in in the morning. And I don’t feel guilty.

I still have my L-plates firmly attached. I still have seasons when busyness gets the better of me. But they are getting fewer. I’ve learnt *so* many things about rest from Kerry, but I think there are three in particular that I constantly come back to, and that get richer and better and more life-restoring the more I return to them. 
The first is this: rest is not a luxury. It’s an essential. Yes, really. If you think you ‘don’t have time’ to or ‘couldn’t possibly’ or shouldn’t’ take time out for rest, trust me, that is not true. There is time, it is possible and it is something you are allowed to give yourself permission to do. The world will not explode if you decide to climb off your particular hamster wheel for a bit. The kids will be fine. The work will wait. You are allowed to give yourself permission to stop. This is so important to me now that my husband and I don’t even have a conversation about it any more (he’s always been a massive fan of my doing this – I’m just astoundingly good at getting in my own way)! I just book the dates and tell him when I’m going. And we all are happier for it. 
Secondly: rest has helped me name my work. All of it. The crazy mornings of packed lunches and where’s my PE kit mummy and its time to get up now kids we’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on and how is there no milk in the fridge? Work. The cleaning, ironing, hoovering, food shopping. Work. The cooking, washing up, tidying. Work. But work is also the bits of work I enjoy doing. I love to gather people around our table for a meal. But it takes work. I love to bake. Still work. I love reading and writing and I’m tentatively starting to blog. Guess what? Yup – it’s all work. This has made me much clearer about my times of rest: and much more eager to claim them. Because time was, I’d have done the things I enjoy when I rested, but I would still have been ‘working.’ Resting has helped me to name my work; and naming my work has helped me to rest. 

And lastly: it’s important to save Sabbath (something Kerry and I have talked about *A Lot*!! Rediscovering the ancient, biblical, life-giving wisdom that says ‘take a day off every week.’ This one’s all kinds of complicated, especially if you’re a parent. Let me explain …
Before I started exploring rest and work, I felt like my ‘Sabbath’ ought to involve my kids and husband in a Day of Fun. In my mind, our Sabbath would be on a Saturday, we would wake up slowly, enjoy a leisurely breakfast, play board games, go for a walk in the countryside, and frolic in fields full of buttercups before sitting on a picnic rug sipping ginger beer and eating a beautiful picnic in manner of Enid Blyton families. Spoiler alert: my Saturdays hardly ever (what am I saying – NEVER) looked like that! I used to feel terribly guilty about this. I used to feel like I should be able to rest with my kids. And Enjoy It. I do enjoy time with my kids. But often, the fact is, it feels suspiciously like work! 

So I’ve started having Fridays as my Sabbath. And it has been life-changing. On Fridays, I don’t do any ‘work.’ Matt cooks the dinner (and Friday night is roast night in our house, so that is an absolute WIN)! Often the two of us go out for brunch. I nap, I sleep, I read, I catch up with friends in my favourite coffee and cake shop. I pray. We go to the cinema to watch films for grown-ups, or for a big long walk in the countryside (embracing the joy of doing this without the smalls asking ‘how much longer have we got to go?’). On Fridays, I abscond from my life for a day. Which means on Saturdays, when my kids have their ‘Sabbath’ (which begins with our Friday night Sabbath roast), I am able to ‘work’ to help them rest, without feeling exhausted and resentful. Absolute win!

I vividly remember how impossible and beyond my reach all of this seemed to me in the beginning. But if, like I did, you’re feeling worn out, overwhelmed, resentful, and (the icing on the cake) guilty about all of the above – can I gently suggest that a life-saving prescription of rest might be just what you need? 
.
Share by: