Lately, the subject of rest has been sitting heavy with me.
I don’t know if it’s because I grew up in England or if it’s just how I’m wired, but I find myself quietly resisting our culture’s obsession with busyness. Everything feels urgent. Everything feels monetized. And somehow, resting has become something we have to justify.
Recently, while paying our bill at a restaurant, I asked our server what time he was done for the evening. He said five minutes — it was already 9 p.m. — but then added that he doesn’t get days off because he works three jobs. Most likely to cover rent, a car payment, tuition. Survival, not ambition.
And it made me wonder when this became normal.
We see it everywhere. Parents running nonstop, shuttling kids from one practice to another, one lesson to the next. Without meaning to, we’re training them early for a future where working 50–60 hours a week is just “how life is.” Hustle now, breathe later — except later never really comes.
What happened to kids gathering in the neighborhood, making up teams, playing until dark — not for scholarships or scholarships-in-waiting, but just because it was fun?
Maybe it’s time for a sabbatical —
not in the Instagram sense, but a real pause. A few weeks or a month to step back and ask honest questions about where we’re headed and why. My husband and I have done this, and it’s been surprisingly life-giving. It sounds like an oxymoron, I know — a “productive” sabbatical — but when you give yourself permission to stop striving, creativity has room to breathe. Ideas surface. Clarity returns.
Or maybe it’s time to reclaim a Sabbath —
one day a week to rest on purpose. A day for things that actually restore you: reading, fishing, painting, listening to music, being outside, being present.
Or maybe — and this is where it gets uncomfortably real — it’s time to take a lunch break.
For some of us, the first two options feel wildly unrealistic. But even a simple, uninterrupted half-hour feels out of reach. Too many people eat at their desks. Or in their cars. Or not at all.
Let’s pause for a second.
If this is your normal, isn’t it fair to say we’re too busy?
And will it change on its own? We love to tell ourselves, It’s just a busy season. But most seasons don’t end unless we decide they do. Without intentional choices, something eventually gives — our health, our relationships, or both.
So maybe the invitation isn’t to do more, but less.
To stop striving.
To create space.
To take time… just to be.
If you’re drawn to visual reminders of rest and presence, I share my artwork as a natural extension of this journey. You’re welcome to explore it in your own time.