This season of being still
For the first time in a long time, I feel relief.
Not the kind that comes from finishing a task or reaching a goal but the kind that settles in when something heavy is finally set down. Stepping away from obligations I once carried, dissolving businesses and nonprofit work I never imagined I would release, has been unexpectedly freeing.
What surprised me most is how attached my identity had become to what I was building.
For years, I moved forward out of responsibility, vision, and faith and all at once. I carried ideas, callings, plans, and people with sincerity and intention but somewhere along the way, I didn’t realize how much mental exhaustion had quietly taken residence in my body.
I was functioning, capable, faithful but I was tired in a way I didn’t yet have language for.
In this season, I’ve also laid down something deeply personal that has brought an unexpected lightness.
The weight or urge to constantly post, to be seen, to feel acknowledged or relevant has decreased significantly. I’m noticing how much space that pressure once occupied and how quiet it has become now that I’m no longer carrying it.
As the striving has slowed, I can feel what has been waiting beneath the surface. The strength I’m getting back. The focus and clarity returning. The growing desire to take care of myself consistently and not just when something goes wrong in my body.
My attention is shifting!
Instead of pushing through stress, fatigue, lack of motivation or moments of forgetfulness, I’m learning to honor what my body and spirit have been signaling for years. Rest is no longer reactive. It’s becoming intentional.
This season has asked me to wait and listen, sit in my home, be present, and resist the urge to rush into the next idea, the next move, the next assignment.
There is something sacred happening in the quiet. Listening to the Lord speak without interruption and without the pressure to act immediately feels like a breakthrough I didn’t know I needed.
Being still has softened me.
It has reminded me that my worth is not tied to productivity, titles or the things I stewarded well but was never meant to carry forever. Some assignments are seasonal, even when they feel permanent. Releasing them doesn’t mean they failed…it means they were fulfilled.
Right now, I’m not reaching for what’s next.
I’m waiting, resting, and listening.
